Four pounds heavier, full of food and drink that do not nourish.
It was a blow out. But I think I am beyond the post diet binge. It isn’t even about them any more. I’m rebelling, I’m self sabotaging, I’m doing everything that leaves me feeling crap and guilty, but I am finding it hard to analyse why. The thing is, I now know the benefits of eating more veg, drinking less alcohol, drinking more water. I know that less bread for me means less bloating. I feel the physical and mental benefits when I do these things. But then something snaps, and I want all those foods that make me feel below par.
Is it some sort of punishment for myself? Do I somehow feel I don’t deserve to have good health and happiness? And feel that I need to make it harder for myself to achieve those goals? Or do I self sabotage because I feel I never succeed, and if I don’t let myself succeed, then failure is the inevitable, and I’m used to that, and I won’t be disappointed? Mad, backwards thinking, but somehow it feels like that is the issue at the moment.
I feel on the edge of depression again, not quite falling in, but dangerously close to that edge, and I am desperate to turn it around before it’s too late. So today I am making better food choices for me, increasing the water, and avoiding the caffeine. Tonight is outdoor fitness, and I will treat myself more kindly.
Having food issues is all consuming, and exhausting. And it’s why I get so mad at the Fattist and Sizest tweeters who are dead set on fat shaming. I don’t like myself too much right now, and it isn’t encouraging me to lose weight. It’s led to a week of overeating simply because. And it’s exhausting for not only me, but my husband. Not because I am hideous and too fat to have sex with, but because I am emotional and needy and lacking in the self confidence.
Time for some kindness once more.
