Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

It’s Friday.

It’s weigh-in day. 

I’m not weighing in. 

For the past 4 days I haven’t seen my scale. The scale that usually lives here:

My dear husband Jason has hid it. 

I got on Monday and was crazed by the number. I needed to stop. But as long as it was there I couldn’t resist it. The hold it has and the pull on me. 

I feel like I’m going through withdrawal. Yesterday was a bad stomach day and I was curious if it had an impact on the number that would shine on the little digital display. A number made of little lines strung together that help my mood in all their little pixels. 

Today I should be logging my weight. 

I’m not. Because I’ve broken up with my scale. Or maybe we’re on a break. 

Two things have happened this past few days without it sitting there, calling me, raining me... I’ve felt an infinitesimal bit less anxious eating. Eating anything on Tuesday-Thursday usually causes the most anxiety, Monday is a little less that those days, and  eating on Friday-Sunday cuasss the last amount, all relative to how close to weigh-in day it is. 

Without that measure I’m worried I’ll slide back and balloon. My sensible and kind yet exasperated and worried husband says- eat when your hungry, eat what you want stopping when your satisfied or full, continue to be active, and use your clothes as your guide for now. As long as your clothes stay fitting comfortably your doing fine. 

And I’m continuing to try and not track every bite- fruit and veggies. 

Also, I’m trying to control my compulsion to start my walking for the day at 4am when I get up and continue it until I go to bed at 10-11pm. 

* my old walking routine*

• walking/pacing in my room from 4-5am 
• stopped at 5 for my coffee
• walked/paced 5:30-6
• stopped to wake up Joshie and get him breakfast before school (skipped on weekends, no school days)
• more walking until 6:59 to get Joshie ready and into his bus 
• more walking either in my room or out and about during the rest of the day, very little sitting or stopping. I got really good at reading and walking. In the cold or wet I was mall walking, since getting Charlie I do a lot of dog walking.

I’ve for the past week as of today been getting my steps in without the crazy feeling early morning and late night walking around the room. My body is I think grateful. I was sore and achy all the damn time but couldn’t stop. It’s not been easy, I feel lazy and bad and it’s an itch I can’t scratch, this desire to be walking even right now (it’s 5:13am).

I have also stopped trying to know every single (and I mean every single) calorie I eat and then walking off as soon as I am done until I have burned between 2-4 times the calories eaten. Yes for exmaple, I was weighing my salad veggies and then walking after lunch 2-4 times the calories consumed. 

But part of me feels it’s been too many changes at once. Another part feels like I’m regaining control and is terrified but relieved. And yet another part yells at me to stop eating and get moving because I’m fat and lazy and proving it with each bite and each craving/want of something treat like and each minute spent sitting. 

But I’m pushing on. We will see I guess. 

Baby steps. Baby steps. 

Melting Down Like Chocolate In Summer

This morning I cried and had a bit of, ok more than a bit, of a meltdown.

It’s been awhile. I haven’t posted or talked about my struggles with anyone other than my husband (more on that in a few) because the last time I mentioned it on Facebook I got a message from someone saying I had an eating disorder and to get help. It scared me but it also made me censor myself. I’m going to go back to being open. I do better that way. And do I have an eating disorder tonsome extent, probably I do I think at this point but I’m trying to rectify that and venting, sharing, having conversations, that helped. So back to it.

So what’s been going on in my life not directly food/weight related:

• My daughter tried to commit suicide and has been in the hospital for a month and now we are in the process of group home placement and adding back more intensive services to her care. 
• My son has reached the home stretch and will be done with his first year of Middle School in a couple of weeks. That means I’ve survived too. And we’ve learned a lot about setting reasonable expectations and goals. It’s been a very successful year for him. 
• I've read some amazing books and my TBR keeps growing. 
• My husband started a new position at work and I’m quite proud of him. 

Speaking of my husband he’s been trying so hard to be patient with me and I’m grateful. 

Ok so now for where I am food/weight related. I have stopped (for the most part) weighing in more than once a week. I’ve gone down to and had been hovering around 117lbs. Today I weighed in at 119.8lbd. 

Until today. I have been trying to work up to not thinking like I’m still obese (fat) and get into the mindset that matches the body I’m actually in. It’s been hard and I’ve been mostly unsuccessful. For example weighing and measuring everything even lettuce and cucumber. 

So this week I tried something different. I didn’t weight/measure or track fruits and veggies. Keep in mind I don’t use fatty dressings and don’t eat tons of fruit but a couple of grapes or berries or some melon in small bits over the course of the day. I walk on average 21,000 steps a day.  I allowed myself to eat when I was truly hungry and to, within moderation, eat what ever I want. My thinking was that I’m active enough and have a small enough appetite that this should be ok. I wanted to break the fear and anxiety. Going out with friends has become impossible because if there’s food involved I don’t want to have to eat. Even going to events for my kids, food. So I tried this week. I even went to a Family Trivia Night event at my son’s school and ate 1 slice of pizza, 2 small cookies, and some chips. My Fitbit says I walked 22,763 steps and burned 2,536 calories that day. I had FroYo over last weekend and I had some snack and real food over the week. And today I’m up over 2lbs (2.6lbs to be exact). 

So here is where the problem starts. Now I’m scared to eat and worry I’ll go up like this again. And again. And it won’t stop. And my clothes won’t fit. And I’ll be her again, the fat girl I still feel and see in the mirror. Yet at the same time I looked back at my weight, step, calories log. And a little over a month ago, before I started having problems with my stomach, that I’ll spare you the details of but that required a colonoscopy and major amounts of clean panties in hand, I was maintaining week to week 119-120. And was in the clothes I have. And according to my tracker, while still not eating near enough, I know, I was eating a bit more than lately.

My calories intake has gone down. So my husband has been saying the right and sensible things and since he left for work has been texting me and saying to keep doing what I did this week, enjoy the time with family having s’mores or FroYo or just dinner. He said “When you’re older are you going to think back to the times we were around the fire eating sch-mores or are you going to fondly remember pacing around the room eating jello?“ *Please forgive his silly spelling of s’mores. It’s how he says it to get me going and is an inside joke❤️*

He’s right. I’m not sure I can do it. But I’m going to try. One more week couldn’t hurt too badly. I hope. 

So my promise to myself said here so I’m accountable after “saying it out loud”:

• I’ll keep my lunch date with my daughter at the hospital today and I’ll eat as planned with her.
• I’ll keep our fire time plans this weekend. 
• I’ll keep walking/moving. 
• I continue not weighing/measuring veggies and fruit. 
• I’ll eat more than plain salad/jello which means some protein too. 
• I’ll eat, in small, reasonable amounts, as I did this past week, anything I want. Because all things in moderation. 

And I’ll be back next Friday with the outcome.