A week that was all over the place. Some excellent choices, then some bad choices, then some great meals, then some bad meals. Reading to get my good-choice frame of mind in consistent gear. Some praying.
But, really, the decisions were mine, and I chose poorly too often to say this was a winning week.
It's interesting how one can be going along, feeling fine, feeling in control, cooking stuff up properly, watching portions, then, bam, that goes to hell with one self-indulgent choice. The streak ends.
I'm fascinated how I undermine that. I know that I've felt worried and fragile a lot. Worrying about bills and the future and such. Dishing out nearly 7K for property insurance and seeing the checkbook dive, well, that sort of made me wanna dive into the nearest bakery or pizza shop. I went to neither, but I WANTED to.
The OLD ME that binged and relied on food for comfort and joy and hardly took 1000 steps a day, she is still alive and warring with NEW ME, that made sound food choices and got her butt into exercising.
It was years and years of study and work to build up a NEW ME. It felt so good. I was hoping the OLD ME might just go off and die on an ice float or something. I intend for new me to win. But old me is very, very strong. VERY. The anxieties and desire for the brain-hit of comfort.
Anyway, this past week saw me RE-ENTER OBESE ZONE. Yes, I crossed that DREAD BOUNDARY of 185. One weigh in was 185.8. Thursday's. By Sunday, the official weigh-in (listed on my sidebar), it wa back to 183.2. That high weight was partially stoked by tamago and asparagus sushi dipped in super-salty tamari. And the miso dressing. But seeing that number scared me.
And the 170s, which I inhabited for a nice spell and even saw the bottom of, well, that seems so far away AGAIN.
I am also royally ticked off at the doc for reducing my Levoxyl. Ever since she did that, weight has crept up, appetite got up, sleep increased, and I have two vexing new bald spots. It just adds insult to injury. I was already struggling with keeping weight down before she did that. This anger, I do not need.
I find that I'm really sodium-sensitive this month, moreso than usual, the fluctuations, and that might be the thyroid status. No idea. But it's kinda weird. I'm normally not a hoarder. When I had a period, I'd easily go up 4 pounds during the days prior to blast-off, but that was a normal monthly thing, and it would be gone after, so you got used to it.
Anyway, the fight is on here. New Me vs Old Me, and it's fierce. This is the crux. THIS IS WHERE RE GAIN hits the road and become monstruous if not caught and managed. I feel it. I feel that this is where the war is lost or won, this sort of situation where the Old Overeater wants back in, tired of exile. Where the New Me is tired of vigilance and is overcome some days with neurotic thoughts and anxiety attacks. Where food looks like a good old friend who just wants to make me FEEL good again.
Which is, pardon my bluntness. bullshit.
Food Desire is only my friend if it follows the rules of friendly behavior. If it supports me and doesn't become toxic. If it's a positive force, not a destructive one. The Food Desire that wants "in" now wants in to wreak havoc, not do me good. It's not a friend. I gotta kill it.
That's the deal. Old Me let Food Lust be an enabler and a destroyer. A crutch and a deceiver.
New Me wants food as a partner, to grow and be stronger, not weaker.
I've not surrendered. I'm reading lots of articles on regain. I've highlighted and bookmarked pages in Riley's updated version of BEATING OVEREATING to re-tap into my inner choosing mojo. I've reminded hubby not to be the sweet "whatever you want" guy of the past if I ask for him to get me something destructive. I haven't yet sent him on massive food runs full of crap. The Old Me used to do that--pizza and chocolate cake and enough tacos to choke two horses. So, just in case she shows up, I want him to give me the breathing room of a hesitation and question: "Is that what you really want? Isn't that bad for you?" That's all I need, sometimes. Just to have that moment of stopping, re-deciding.
It's part of taking control, asking, "Is this what you really want? Is this what you choose to have? What are the consequences?"
I have a divided will. Sometimes I answer the question as the New Me: "No, this will subvert my plans for good health. I won't fit into my clothes. I'll feel like a social pariah again."
Sometimes, I answer like the old me. "I don't care. It's what I want now. Consequences be damned, I just want that pleasure NOW."
The devil that is the Old Me is out to get me and make me one of the loser statistics.
I've lost too much. For too long. And it has wrecked parts of my potential and years of my life.
Screw you, devil.
Oh, and yes, I prayed, too.
To those who don't have food issues, well, they won't understand how powerful the lure is. Maybe junkies and sex addicts will get it. But folks who go about and don't self-medicate with food or have old bad habits that grab them back into the pit, they don't get it.
You get it, right?
But we do not give up.
Okay, a new day to get it right. I know all I need is a few weeks of really good days and the new habits reinforce and New Me wins again. For a spell.
I guess this fight goes on for life, as I suspected all along. And it's only easy in periods/stages/phases. Then you put on the armor and go on campaign...again. And again. And as many times as it takes.
Til Kingdom come.
I'll post some of the stuff I gather, cause it helps me. Keeps my head in it. Maybe it will help you. Whether it's for scaring or for encouraging or for illuminating. It helps.