I'm trying not to be a downer here, but there's a good chance it'll come across that way.. so feel free to stop reading here. I write these things mostly to get stuff out of my head, or sort through some of my thoughts. I don't honestly expect anyone to read, or care what I write. That's not the point anyway.
It seems that I've evened out now, as far as my meds go. I can't remember whether I've written anything since I started the Wellbutrin, but just to re-cap: Zoloft wasn't working anymore. I was depressed even though I was on antidepressants. So, I went to the doctor and told him this, and that I'd gained back more than 50lb of what I'd lost before. He said, try Wellbutrin. At first, it made me feel weird. And hyper. And a lot happier. But I also suddenly was way more emotional. It was like the Zoloft not only took the depression away (initially) but it also tamped out my emotions all together. Not good.
So, now I'm weepy on occasion, and I've been a lot happier and more easy going. Today, though, I'm depressed. Remember when I told you about the ex? Yeah, I was supposed to stop the nookie and just be friends with him. That worked ONE time after we talked about it. He came up the weekend I changed meds, because I was feeling weird and had to cancel all my plans. Then the weekend after that.. I forget why. Then he came up this week, Monday to Wednesday, because of the hurricane that never really did much here. During the visit I nearly dropped an L-bomb. And now I'm at work, at my desk, trying desperately not to break down in tears, while several friends tell me they think the guy is using me because I'm safe and comfortable to him.
I want to fucking give up. Ever since I was little I wanted nothing more than to be in love, and have that love returned. And not long after I started dreaming about that, I had a feeling, that I KNEW it would never happen. It broke my heart, and it still does.. and this is the part where I can't control the tears. Hopefully no one tries to talk to me before I get it together again..
Anyway.. I have no faith or hope that I will find that amazing love I've always wanted. Or any love at all for that matter. Don't start with the platitudes or the "don't be so hard on yourself" bullshit. You can think whatever you want, just please keep it to yourself. I'm not asking for your pity, or advice, or for you to tell me it'll be ok and I'll see. This is just how I feel, and as much as you don't want to hear it, or don't like me putting myself down (as you may see it), they're my goddamn feelings and I'm allowed to have them.
The reason I have these feelings is that I've never been the girl that anyone wanted a relationship with. I'm not talking about sex. That was true at one time, but that's changed. But sex isn't love, although they're not mutually exclusive either. I was almost 20 before I had my first kiss. That was the same guy I lost my virginity to, and the same guy I was then married to for over 6 years. The same guy that my dad hated, and my mom, apparently, didn't like much either. Then that was over, and for the 7 years since, I haven't been in another relationship. It's not for lack of trying, either. I just never seem to get my feelings reciprocated. And honestly, it seems really fucking unfair. I think I'm a decent person. I don't hurt other people, or animals. I recycle. I give to charity. I give people baked goods, and presents, and my ear when they need someone to listen. I am now the proud owner of two spazz-tastic cats. But here's the rub- I will probably be an old cat lady; childless, alone, forced to leave my fortune to my cats or the SPCA or something.
I say this because this morning while talking to people about the ex that came to stay with me for two days during the storm, it was suggested that he's using me. I am a comfortable, known entity, and he knows he'll have a good time with me. So, while I spent the night, next to him, listening to his snoring, and thinking how cute it is that he steals all the covers and lays diagonally across the bed, nearly forcing me off of it, and thinking how I almost dropped the L-bomb, popular opinion is that he's got a warm place to stay and that's all I am to him.
Talk about a dagger to the heart. This is the second time I've fallen for him and I think this will be the second time he devastates me. And according to one friend, I'm the one to blame. Because I'm "letting" him. So, I will be a fucking cat lady. That is my destiny, apparently.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
The Demons are Back
I'm frustrated. My doctor's appointment on Wednesday didn't help. The scale told me a glaring 230lb. 230??? What the hell happened? Ugh. Actually, I'm disgusted. I'm disgusted by the weight gain, I'm disgusted with myself, I'm disgusted by how bad my eating habits have gotten. I SAY I don't eat that badly, but I don't write it down. How do I really know?
So yesterday, I started writing it down. I was doing ok, until dinner. I ate an entire box of mac and cheese. I fooled myself into thinking if that was all I had, it wasn't so bad. The other day I also discovered that canned pumpkin tastes delicious in mac and cheese, so I threw in about a half a cup of that. A box of mac and cheese, sans pumpkin, is about 1200 calories. Holy hell. What am I doing to myself?? I polished that off with a piece of pecan pie- the LAST piece- and then, I felt sick. Shocker.
So, the compulsive overeating is back. Why? Because I'm frustrated and pissed off. I'm flunking kinesiology, I'm tired all the goddamn time, work is stressing me out again, I'm not getting exercise, and oh, I've gotten fat again. I've started self-loathing and name-calling. Yeah.. things aren't good right now. I'm ahead of the game because I recognize that things aren't good, but I HAVE to get to the step of fixing the problem, and pronto.
I have two 5-mile races between now and the end of the year, and the 4-mile turkey trot. 5 miles should be easy-peasy. (I was going to say "a piece of cake" but decided that wasn't appropriate here.. especially since I can't have cake anymore.) 5 miles is the most I have to train for, should only take me a little over an hour at my SLOWEST pace, and is a good distance to work on getting faster. Once I realized that the first race was only an 8k and not a 15k (which is more like 9 miles), relief set in. I felt like the problem wasn't quite as big. I mean, it's as big as it was before- 50lb plus- but, it seems like my goal is a little more attainable. I want to lose 20lb by the end of the year. The rest will come in time.
So, I was thinking about all this in bed this morning, exhausted as I have been every morning for about the past month or two. I decided that trying to get to the gym first thing in the morning just isn't going to work. I decided I'll go at lunch time. Yes, it won't be a long workout. I can manage 30 minutes of cardio in that time, plus a shower. But you know what? It's better than nothing. It's a start. It should be enough to start to improve my mood. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to get to work at 8am-ish, hit the gym at lunch time, and run on the weekend. I can do this.
Last night I baked 5 chicken breasts in olive oil, white wine, and fresh herbs with a little Montreal steak seasoning sprinkled on top. I cut them in half, froze 6 halves, and put 4 halves in the fridge. I have one half for lunch today, plus some frozen veg. This weekend I am going to buy eggs, and boil a dozen of them. That's a quick, protein-rich breakfast. I shall not eat anymore pasta, bread, or desserts. I may buy some ricotta to mix with pumpkin puree and eat as a sort of treat. I'm not sure how that'll work, but it's worth a shot. I'm going to make soups. I actually saved the "juice" from when I baked the chicken. I plan to skim the fat off the top, boil it up with veggies, a little veggie broth, and maybe some rice or barley or something, and make a nice soup out of it. I might pop in the remaining two chicken garlic sausages in the fridge, cut into little pieces. I'll freeze the sweet Italian ones I bought. I have fish in the freezer, some collard greens and kale in the fridge. Kale makes a wonderful salad. I love healthy foods. I LOVE veggies. I can do this. I did it before, and this weight came on awfully fast and awfully recently. I should.. no, I WILL knock it out.
My demons will not win this fight. Fear, Self-loathing, Depression. You are not friends of mine and you are not welcome here. I will defeat you.
So yesterday, I started writing it down. I was doing ok, until dinner. I ate an entire box of mac and cheese. I fooled myself into thinking if that was all I had, it wasn't so bad. The other day I also discovered that canned pumpkin tastes delicious in mac and cheese, so I threw in about a half a cup of that. A box of mac and cheese, sans pumpkin, is about 1200 calories. Holy hell. What am I doing to myself?? I polished that off with a piece of pecan pie- the LAST piece- and then, I felt sick. Shocker.
So, the compulsive overeating is back. Why? Because I'm frustrated and pissed off. I'm flunking kinesiology, I'm tired all the goddamn time, work is stressing me out again, I'm not getting exercise, and oh, I've gotten fat again. I've started self-loathing and name-calling. Yeah.. things aren't good right now. I'm ahead of the game because I recognize that things aren't good, but I HAVE to get to the step of fixing the problem, and pronto.
I have two 5-mile races between now and the end of the year, and the 4-mile turkey trot. 5 miles should be easy-peasy. (I was going to say "a piece of cake" but decided that wasn't appropriate here.. especially since I can't have cake anymore.) 5 miles is the most I have to train for, should only take me a little over an hour at my SLOWEST pace, and is a good distance to work on getting faster. Once I realized that the first race was only an 8k and not a 15k (which is more like 9 miles), relief set in. I felt like the problem wasn't quite as big. I mean, it's as big as it was before- 50lb plus- but, it seems like my goal is a little more attainable. I want to lose 20lb by the end of the year. The rest will come in time.
So, I was thinking about all this in bed this morning, exhausted as I have been every morning for about the past month or two. I decided that trying to get to the gym first thing in the morning just isn't going to work. I decided I'll go at lunch time. Yes, it won't be a long workout. I can manage 30 minutes of cardio in that time, plus a shower. But you know what? It's better than nothing. It's a start. It should be enough to start to improve my mood. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to get to work at 8am-ish, hit the gym at lunch time, and run on the weekend. I can do this.
Last night I baked 5 chicken breasts in olive oil, white wine, and fresh herbs with a little Montreal steak seasoning sprinkled on top. I cut them in half, froze 6 halves, and put 4 halves in the fridge. I have one half for lunch today, plus some frozen veg. This weekend I am going to buy eggs, and boil a dozen of them. That's a quick, protein-rich breakfast. I shall not eat anymore pasta, bread, or desserts. I may buy some ricotta to mix with pumpkin puree and eat as a sort of treat. I'm not sure how that'll work, but it's worth a shot. I'm going to make soups. I actually saved the "juice" from when I baked the chicken. I plan to skim the fat off the top, boil it up with veggies, a little veggie broth, and maybe some rice or barley or something, and make a nice soup out of it. I might pop in the remaining two chicken garlic sausages in the fridge, cut into little pieces. I'll freeze the sweet Italian ones I bought. I have fish in the freezer, some collard greens and kale in the fridge. Kale makes a wonderful salad. I love healthy foods. I LOVE veggies. I can do this. I did it before, and this weight came on awfully fast and awfully recently. I should.. no, I WILL knock it out.
My demons will not win this fight. Fear, Self-loathing, Depression. You are not friends of mine and you are not welcome here. I will defeat you.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Rude Awakening
This morning I had an appointment with my doctor where he basically agreed with me that I've gotten fat again. And then he told me to eat less. Thank you, Captain Obvious, for your worthwhile contribution.
I could be pissed at him for calling me fat. Except that he did it after I did, and he never really said it. What he did say is "well, you know fat is coming back in style." To which I replied "Rubenesque will never again be in fashion." We laughed. It wasn't that funny. I've gained back 50 g-d pounds! How the hell did that happen?? Popular opinion is that, yes, the Zoloft may have contributed. Also, I'm depressed again. Some of the old social anxiety started to return. If it comes back full force, that will be a sad, sad day.
So, I'm trying South Beach. Or at least, I'll read about it and decide if I want to throw myself into it or just take some tips and recipes, like the egg cups. Something must be done. I was a size 10 and looking gorgeous. I can be a size 12 and looking gorgeous, but I no matter how I look NOW, at size 16 (it is possible to be a gorgeous size 16), I will not FEEL gorgeous until I get this weight off. I'm not looking to be skinny, just comfortable in my own skin.
I could be pissed at him for calling me fat. Except that he did it after I did, and he never really said it. What he did say is "well, you know fat is coming back in style." To which I replied "Rubenesque will never again be in fashion." We laughed. It wasn't that funny. I've gained back 50 g-d pounds! How the hell did that happen?? Popular opinion is that, yes, the Zoloft may have contributed. Also, I'm depressed again. Some of the old social anxiety started to return. If it comes back full force, that will be a sad, sad day.
So, I'm trying South Beach. Or at least, I'll read about it and decide if I want to throw myself into it or just take some tips and recipes, like the egg cups. Something must be done. I was a size 10 and looking gorgeous. I can be a size 12 and looking gorgeous, but I no matter how I look NOW, at size 16 (it is possible to be a gorgeous size 16), I will not FEEL gorgeous until I get this weight off. I'm not looking to be skinny, just comfortable in my own skin.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Ouch
One of the nice things about the Baltimore Running Festival is that they provide runner tracking. I was even able to track myself on my Facebook page, so other people could see that I was still alive and moving along the course. Unfortunately, it only tracks half marathoners at two places- 6 or so miles, and the finish. But, about 15 people commented on/liked my finishing time. I didn't much like my finishing time, but at least I finished! One commenter asked "how do you feel?" My response was "Ouch."
Yeah.. my feet were staging a coup. My legs were tired, my lungs were tired, and my shoulders were sore. But my feet.. it felt like I'd been walking on hot coals for probably the last 5 miles of the race. I really don't think I have ever felt that much pain in my feet. I didn't even have any blisters when I was done! WTH? Not that I'm complaining about no blisters.. it's just that it seems there should be some kind of visual evidence of my suffering, and there was none. Well, except for the wince I carried on my face the whole time it felt like I was walking on hot coals.
Here's a picture of me, pre-race:
Saturday's race was not my finest moment. Not in the least. But, as badly as I felt I'd done, I was also proud of myself. I finished the race. I jogged across the finish line (I'm not sure you could call what I did "running"). I completed 13.1 for the 4th time in my life.
There were a few things that made Saturday even more special, and definitely worth the effort. I had friends who came out to support me. My Alice walked probably a mile or two just to stand at Lake Montebello and clap for me. She was worried when I didn't show at the time I said I'd expected to (frankly, I was worried too!), but she waited that extra 20 minutes or so, and I was grateful. It means so much to see a friendly, familiar face when you're about 7.5 miles into a half marathon. A couple miles later, a tiny white-haired woman that actually reminded me of another friend's mom, cheered for me specifically. I thanked her, of course. And then, just south of Lexington Market, I saw my friend Brandie, in her baby pink team shirt, and purple zebra Underarmour pants, clapping. I had thought she'd leave before I finished the race. I did not expect to see anyone cheering for me at this point. She stepped off the sidewalk, and walked with me. And when I decided to try to run, she ran with me, all the way to the finish line. "You did it!" I did, and I had two fantastic friends with me the whole time.
Something Alice said to me when I passed her stayed with me the rest of my race. "I'm going to be running with you next year. I don't know how, but I'm going to do it." So, struggling through my final 5-6 miles, I focused on how I could help her make that happen. The relay! And at the finish line, standing with Brandie and my friend Andrew who drove up from VA to see me finish (and missed it), I shared this idea, and both of them said "I'll do it!" So, next year, we are Team Alice. And we will do a MARATHON.
Yeah.. my feet were staging a coup. My legs were tired, my lungs were tired, and my shoulders were sore. But my feet.. it felt like I'd been walking on hot coals for probably the last 5 miles of the race. I really don't think I have ever felt that much pain in my feet. I didn't even have any blisters when I was done! WTH? Not that I'm complaining about no blisters.. it's just that it seems there should be some kind of visual evidence of my suffering, and there was none. Well, except for the wince I carried on my face the whole time it felt like I was walking on hot coals.
Here's a picture of me, pre-race:
Saturday's race was not my finest moment. Not in the least. But, as badly as I felt I'd done, I was also proud of myself. I finished the race. I jogged across the finish line (I'm not sure you could call what I did "running"). I completed 13.1 for the 4th time in my life.
There were a few things that made Saturday even more special, and definitely worth the effort. I had friends who came out to support me. My Alice walked probably a mile or two just to stand at Lake Montebello and clap for me. She was worried when I didn't show at the time I said I'd expected to (frankly, I was worried too!), but she waited that extra 20 minutes or so, and I was grateful. It means so much to see a friendly, familiar face when you're about 7.5 miles into a half marathon. A couple miles later, a tiny white-haired woman that actually reminded me of another friend's mom, cheered for me specifically. I thanked her, of course. And then, just south of Lexington Market, I saw my friend Brandie, in her baby pink team shirt, and purple zebra Underarmour pants, clapping. I had thought she'd leave before I finished the race. I did not expect to see anyone cheering for me at this point. She stepped off the sidewalk, and walked with me. And when I decided to try to run, she ran with me, all the way to the finish line. "You did it!" I did, and I had two fantastic friends with me the whole time.
Something Alice said to me when I passed her stayed with me the rest of my race. "I'm going to be running with you next year. I don't know how, but I'm going to do it." So, struggling through my final 5-6 miles, I focused on how I could help her make that happen. The relay! And at the finish line, standing with Brandie and my friend Andrew who drove up from VA to see me finish (and missed it), I shared this idea, and both of them said "I'll do it!" So, next year, we are Team Alice. And we will do a MARATHON.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Less than 24 hours to race day..
So, tomorrow is the big day: The Baltimore Running Festival Half Marathon 2012. Am I ready?? Dunno? Lately I've felt like I'm in the middle of a battle. A battle with myself, a battle of the bulge, a battle for time.. I don't feel like I'm winning. So, that makes the impending race feel all the more difficult. I'm not sure I'm ready. Friends have said they have faith in me, and I can do it. I appreciate the confidence, I really do.. I just wonder where my OWN confidence is? I can't seem to find it anywhere..
I'm not at all looking forward to getting up at 4am tomorrow. I'm also not looking forward to 2+ hours standing around in the cold, waiting for the race to start, and having to pee every 10 minutes from the nervousness coursing through my body. I'm hoping I can keep a good, slow pace, but still make my 3hr 5min goal finishing time. I have to remember to not start too fast, but also keep up a reasonable pace. Then I have to remind myself that I'm really not doing this to make a specific time, I just want to finish.
Long-distance running really is one great big mind-fuck. Most people are not made to run long distances. But we (some of us) do it anyway. There's something to be said for pushing the limit, doing more than we ever imagined we could, beating our own previous best time, and even feeling the aches and pains that go with embarking on crazy endeavors like that. When I finish I feel such an enormous sense of accomplishment that I can't even describe. Even on training runs, I think "I did it!" At the end of my first half marathon, I expected to cry. I didn't. I felt so out of it and tired that I couldn't even think. At the finish of my fastest 5k ever, though, I did cry. Having been the fat kid who couldn't do any kind of physical exercise well, I'd accomplished something I never even dreamed of.
I'm hoping that I feel that way tomorrow, at the finish line. That no matter how slow I ran, or how tired I am, I feel the emotion of the accomplishment. Really, that's why I do it. Just for that one minute of pride I feel afterwards. It's worth all the blisters and leg cramps in the world, just to say "I did it."
I'm not at all looking forward to getting up at 4am tomorrow. I'm also not looking forward to 2+ hours standing around in the cold, waiting for the race to start, and having to pee every 10 minutes from the nervousness coursing through my body. I'm hoping I can keep a good, slow pace, but still make my 3hr 5min goal finishing time. I have to remember to not start too fast, but also keep up a reasonable pace. Then I have to remind myself that I'm really not doing this to make a specific time, I just want to finish.
Long-distance running really is one great big mind-fuck. Most people are not made to run long distances. But we (some of us) do it anyway. There's something to be said for pushing the limit, doing more than we ever imagined we could, beating our own previous best time, and even feeling the aches and pains that go with embarking on crazy endeavors like that. When I finish I feel such an enormous sense of accomplishment that I can't even describe. Even on training runs, I think "I did it!" At the end of my first half marathon, I expected to cry. I didn't. I felt so out of it and tired that I couldn't even think. At the finish of my fastest 5k ever, though, I did cry. Having been the fat kid who couldn't do any kind of physical exercise well, I'd accomplished something I never even dreamed of.
I'm hoping that I feel that way tomorrow, at the finish line. That no matter how slow I ran, or how tired I am, I feel the emotion of the accomplishment. Really, that's why I do it. Just for that one minute of pride I feel afterwards. It's worth all the blisters and leg cramps in the world, just to say "I did it."
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Figuring things out
I've been trying to figure things out for a long time now. I remember having an epiphany, around age 25, that I come from a long line of crazy. You'd think I'd have known this already, I mean I've had my family all my life, right? But that's just it- it's all I knew. I knew that other people were different, sure, but I didn't really see that there were some pretty major flaws in my people. And then it suddenly dawned on me- mental issues are genetic.. I'm depressed, my parents are depressed, my aunts are depressed, my grandparents were depressed.. wait a minute. Ding!
Yeah, so that was the start of me figuring things out. About two years ago, I thought I had it pretty figured out. And then I started gaining weight back, and I started being more and more dissatisfied with my job and my life and my (lack of) personal life. And now, here I am, 45lb heavier than I was at my sveltist, and once again, I'm trying to figure things out.
Why have I gained weight back? Three theories on that one:
1) my Zoloft (which I started taking, oh, about 2 years ago)
2) my hip injury knocked me off my exercise schedule
3) I'm doing too much at once and am stressed, not sleeping enough, and am not making time to do what I need to do to keep weight off.
I'm also trying to figure out what I should be eating. Should I be changing my diet at all? I'm thinking yes. I'm also thinking I'm broke as hell so I really need to make sure whatever I do it's not too expensive..
So, that's why I went and bought a $60 Cuisinart 15-part smoothie maker, along with a green smoothie bible. I know, there's a madness to my madness...
I also just discovered how very close Weber's Farm is to my office and my house. So at lunch today I bought greens, tomatoes, an onion, apples, and some baked goods that I'm already regretting. (Mental note: don't succumb to the bakery) The greens will go into my green smoothie that I plan to work on over the weekend, with my brand new Cuisinart smoothie maker.
I recently reconnected with an old work friend, from my former life. We have a lot in common even though we're sort of opposite in a lot of ways. We've both suffered eating disorders, though hers was she didn't eat and mine was I ate everything in sight (they're FINALLY recognizing that as an eating disorder!). Her family's messed up, but in a very conservative, Mormon way. Mine, well.. they're just mine. We both love animals and have a sarcastic dry wit and love food. Yes, you read that right. We love food. I can't remember why we lost touch, but I think it was something to do with each of us going through a mental breakdown at the exact same time. We've been talking a LOT lately through social media- like every day a lot, and I'm really hoping we don't lose touch again.. at least not soon.
Something this friend has helped me realize/recognize is that almost all the women I know have a bad or weird relationship with food. That's like, the cultural norm these days. What the hell is that about? I'm stressed so I reach for a bag of M&Ms, a muffin, a cookie, a big bowl of froyo.. She's stressed, she punishes herself by not eating food at all. Another friend of mine was a compulsive overeater and has cut out flour, sugar, alcohol, and goes to bible study 4 days a week. I've been looking at weight loss blogs today in an attempt to connect with someone going through the same sorts of struggles, and the posts are littered with comments like "be strong" and "don't eat the bad foods."
Food is SO emotional. It should be fuel, sustenance, something to support life. But no, it is capable of so much more. So, I'm trying to figure out my relationship with food and how to wrangle my own demons so I can feel better about myself again. I am proud to point out that I also bought tomatoes at Weber's, and had one with my lunch, cut up into pieces and sprinkled with a little salt and pepper. It was heavenly. After that, I ate the massive pumpkin muffin I bought from the bakery at Weber's. After a few bites, I didn't even want it anymore, but I ate it anyway, almost as a punishment. I have a long way to go.
Yeah, so that was the start of me figuring things out. About two years ago, I thought I had it pretty figured out. And then I started gaining weight back, and I started being more and more dissatisfied with my job and my life and my (lack of) personal life. And now, here I am, 45lb heavier than I was at my sveltist, and once again, I'm trying to figure things out.
Why have I gained weight back? Three theories on that one:
1) my Zoloft (which I started taking, oh, about 2 years ago)
2) my hip injury knocked me off my exercise schedule
3) I'm doing too much at once and am stressed, not sleeping enough, and am not making time to do what I need to do to keep weight off.
I'm also trying to figure out what I should be eating. Should I be changing my diet at all? I'm thinking yes. I'm also thinking I'm broke as hell so I really need to make sure whatever I do it's not too expensive..
So, that's why I went and bought a $60 Cuisinart 15-part smoothie maker, along with a green smoothie bible. I know, there's a madness to my madness...
I also just discovered how very close Weber's Farm is to my office and my house. So at lunch today I bought greens, tomatoes, an onion, apples, and some baked goods that I'm already regretting. (Mental note: don't succumb to the bakery) The greens will go into my green smoothie that I plan to work on over the weekend, with my brand new Cuisinart smoothie maker.
I recently reconnected with an old work friend, from my former life. We have a lot in common even though we're sort of opposite in a lot of ways. We've both suffered eating disorders, though hers was she didn't eat and mine was I ate everything in sight (they're FINALLY recognizing that as an eating disorder!). Her family's messed up, but in a very conservative, Mormon way. Mine, well.. they're just mine. We both love animals and have a sarcastic dry wit and love food. Yes, you read that right. We love food. I can't remember why we lost touch, but I think it was something to do with each of us going through a mental breakdown at the exact same time. We've been talking a LOT lately through social media- like every day a lot, and I'm really hoping we don't lose touch again.. at least not soon.
Something this friend has helped me realize/recognize is that almost all the women I know have a bad or weird relationship with food. That's like, the cultural norm these days. What the hell is that about? I'm stressed so I reach for a bag of M&Ms, a muffin, a cookie, a big bowl of froyo.. She's stressed, she punishes herself by not eating food at all. Another friend of mine was a compulsive overeater and has cut out flour, sugar, alcohol, and goes to bible study 4 days a week. I've been looking at weight loss blogs today in an attempt to connect with someone going through the same sorts of struggles, and the posts are littered with comments like "be strong" and "don't eat the bad foods."
Food is SO emotional. It should be fuel, sustenance, something to support life. But no, it is capable of so much more. So, I'm trying to figure out my relationship with food and how to wrangle my own demons so I can feel better about myself again. I am proud to point out that I also bought tomatoes at Weber's, and had one with my lunch, cut up into pieces and sprinkled with a little salt and pepper. It was heavenly. After that, I ate the massive pumpkin muffin I bought from the bakery at Weber's. After a few bites, I didn't even want it anymore, but I ate it anyway, almost as a punishment. I have a long way to go.
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