The In-Betweens

For the last several weeks I've been feeling in-between. I'm learning how to eat effectively for the pouch (as my head hunger has returned and it takes a lot of doing to not eat the table in slow, well-chewed bites), drink my water, hit my stride, take the vitamins, etc. With all the talk of eating disorders and watching (reading) fellow sassy gals discover, manage, defend and defeat their issues with food, I did my own weigh in. And in two weeks I have been the same, up a pound, down a pound, but really the exact weight I was a week ago.*** My brain goes "No No No, you are supposed to be losing 10 pounds a day, never hungry, and you are doing this all wrong wrong wrong." And for about 15 minutes I go on that roller coaster of scared shitless and that I will never lose another pound, dress size or really see the collarbones stick out.

SHUT UP.

So then I start my day with water and vitamins, coffee with protein powder (wow, really try Nectar Cappuccino, because I swear to go for coffee folks like me, umm, it's heaven) and head on into work. And then I work like a mad woman all day, taking a good 1/2 hour to have lunch in the lunch room. And head home at late o'clock. And don't go to the gym......

Yeah. I've been wanting too, but I haven't made the time. Made a bunch of excuses. "I'll go in the tired o'clock, I'll get up take iron and then go pump iron. I'll meet a trainer (hopefully the cute one that looks a little like an old friend I always wished something had happened with) and he will make me work out harder, faster, stronger. And by June I'll be running marathons and be a size 4 and have lost all 225 pounds that I had to lose pre-surgery".

It's disordered thinking. Not eating. The fact that I tell myself these lies on a pretty consistent basis is somewhat funny. Umm, a year ago I was taking my own extender on the plane. I was uncomfortable in business class plane seats because my thighs touched the sides and I would automatically recline (damn chinese airlines). I couldn't purchase a pair of jeans at the LB because I was beyond the highest size. My chair at work had so much pressure on it that it created potholes on the plastic ground covering and I got/get stuck constantly. And then I am doing the same thing as last year-- writing down everything I eat at the beginning of the day, but leaving off the stuff at the end. Powering through "I know this part" and not saying what was right there for me-- "Can someone please hold me and rock me and tell me that this part gets better because I am scared and anxiety ridden? Huh, someone, please?"

A couple weeks ago I did a budget that would have me be in integrity with finances and savings. I didn't put therapy in there "because I don't need it" and it's a big expense. I need it-- I need the community, I need the support. I need someone I can cry and rail at, who can point out issues with big red arrows and go "THERE THERE THERE" and I feel comfortable working with and who can help me sort through the disorder. Fer Crissakes, I pay someone to help me organize my home, clean my house, do my taxes-- why the f would I think I can do the emotional stuff myself.

The good news, I am in no imminent danger of harming myself or property. (Yeah me!) Its like I am on the highway and I see signs for "Happy and Goal Oriented" and "A bad place to be" and the fork in the road is coming up. Soon. Maybe 3 miles. (It's a big highway) And right now, I'm in that middle lane and I know which way I want to turn, but every now and again I loose my attention for a minute and realize I've ended up on the wrong road-- because I've done that before. And no no no, I'm gonna take the steps to stay on the road to Happy and Goal Oriented, on the destination to.... wait. That's right, success is a journey, not a destination. I guess the destination would be getting out of the middle lane. or at least the in-betweens.


*** and then I take a shower, use the restroom and down two pounds. It's a fucking rollercoaster, people. Maybe if I write the bitch blogs more often, I'll drop weight faster.