I ask food to do a lot for me, most of which I am sure it was never ment to do.
We need food to live and get nutrients, and food is a big part of bringing family and friends together. But, lately I have come to realize that my several weeks of weight loss success began to come to a screeching halt. I started working out at a place where they have child care and my daughter seems to enjoy the time with other kids, and I have come to enjoy the feeling of accomplishment when I finish a cycle or kickboxing class. Working out works for me, and unless I have unexpected schedule changes it's easy for me to decide to go to the gym. That's not the problem.
I found a great app that tells me how many calories I can eat to lose weight by the date I entered and it factors in the workouts, so, I have all the math in front of me. I know what to do. I did do it. So, what stalled the scale?
It dawned on me that if I eat all my calories by dinner, I can't ask food to be my late night companion anymore. I can't run to ice cream when I've made it through a tough day. A huge piece of cake can't celebrate every big or small event. I ask food to make me feel less sad, more happy, to be with me.
I have a relationship with food. I've built it over the years. I know what I want and I know what foods can get me there. It's overwhelming to see how deep down inside I feel the emotions. I rebel against my new awareness of calories and how many calories I need to lose weight or even just to maintain my weight and the thought that this new way of living does not allow me to continue my old relationship with food causes such a strong visceral reaction inside of me. In order to get healthy and be at a healthy weight I have to give up that old relationship.
I'm in the grieving process. I'm grieving the loss of an ideal - that I can somehow keep my relationship with food, asking it to be and do so much more than it was ever ment to be or do, and still lose weight. It's not possible. I'm afraid. I'm afraid I am not strong enough to give up food. I keep running back, like the ex you know is so bad for you, but it just feels so good.
I'm hoping I can make it through this fear and grieving and come out stronger and healthier. I know the first step is acceptance. Step one - check.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Please Don't Ask Me That Question
Does anyone else experience the phenomenon of becoming so engrossed in something that you forget that no one else knows any of the details? You have been living, breathing, eating sleeping the date/time/schedule that it blows your mind when someone asks "Oh, when is that again?"
Deployment becomes much like that for me. Weeks before Mike leaves I begin to consider all the holidays that will pass while he is gone and what I might do for them. Have a party? Drive to my parents? Sit at home alone with a pint of ice cream? I mark on my calendar month one, two, three. I know exactly when "half way" is and I move it back a week so I don't start getting excited too soon.
Right now I am in month two. The worst month. Its past the time of the initial sadness, but not nearly close enough to half way to start being happy. I get busy. My calendar gets full. I try to forget. Then they ask, "Isn't it about time for Mike to be getting back?" "When is Mike getting back?" NO! I want to yell. Don't you know its only been 9 weeks? Don't you know I'm trying to forget? Don't you know its so excruciatingly far from even half way?
They don't. They don't know. To them it seems like its been awhile, so they ask.
Its hard to feel that they care about you when you feel the hot sting of tears begin to form behind your eyes. I smile, "Fall," I say. They wince.
I try to forget, but at any given time I can give you the whole run-down. He left on a Sunday, its been two months and one week, half way is somewhere around early July and he should be back at the very end of September.
They don't know. But I remember that the question is the caring, so maybe I really don't want them to stop asking...
Deployment becomes much like that for me. Weeks before Mike leaves I begin to consider all the holidays that will pass while he is gone and what I might do for them. Have a party? Drive to my parents? Sit at home alone with a pint of ice cream? I mark on my calendar month one, two, three. I know exactly when "half way" is and I move it back a week so I don't start getting excited too soon.
Right now I am in month two. The worst month. Its past the time of the initial sadness, but not nearly close enough to half way to start being happy. I get busy. My calendar gets full. I try to forget. Then they ask, "Isn't it about time for Mike to be getting back?" "When is Mike getting back?" NO! I want to yell. Don't you know its only been 9 weeks? Don't you know I'm trying to forget? Don't you know its so excruciatingly far from even half way?
They don't. They don't know. To them it seems like its been awhile, so they ask.
Its hard to feel that they care about you when you feel the hot sting of tears begin to form behind your eyes. I smile, "Fall," I say. They wince.
I try to forget, but at any given time I can give you the whole run-down. He left on a Sunday, its been two months and one week, half way is somewhere around early July and he should be back at the very end of September.
They don't know. But I remember that the question is the caring, so maybe I really don't want them to stop asking...
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Intro
This is the blog of a Christian woman, Navy wife, and mom sharing what it is like to be me, and hoping that someone can get encouragement, a tip, or a laugh through my trial and error.
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