I've had a pretty good month, for the most part. I'm making good progress with Weight Watchers - almost ten pounds in less than a month - and I feel like I am getting used to both the process and the mentality of what makes the program work. I don't see any physical changes yet, but I know that takes time. I'm pleased to see the number on the scale going down, and I am surprised at how much better I feel after a month of eating a lot more fresh food.
I still have moments when my stress levels trigger strong urges to mindlessly graze on M&Ms or pieces of chocolate...and there have been times when I've given in. I'm only human, and it's a deeply ingrained reaction that is not going to be undone in 28 days. The best I can say about those incidents is that they don't last long and I can stop myself a whole lot sooner than I used to. But I swear there's muscle memory involved, and at times when I'm anxious or just plain frustrated, my hands twitch, my mouth waters, and my mind races in search of something to quiet the noise in my head.
For the most part, though, I don't act on the urge. Maybe it's because I don't have anything within reach that's powerful enough to numb what I'm feeling, maybe it's because I know I'll feel like garbage if I shove any of it in my mouth...most likely it's both.
The result of this is that, for the first time in very long time, I'm feeling. I'm feeling a lot of things - helplessness, frustration, fear, sadness, anger - all of the things that I'd squash with food the second I felt them coming. The other day I was thinking about this - this often crushing wave of emotion - and how awesome it is that I haven't been using food to push it away. And then it dawned on me that the reason I'm feeling at all is because I'm not using food for that purpose. The realization that I was actually eating (almost completely mindlessly) to prevent an uncomfortable or strong emotion was staggering. And now I that I'm not doing that, now that I eat merely to sustain my body through the day, to feed it and treat it kindly, all the feelings have presented themselves. It seems like a rush, a wave, a flood...but the reality is that they were always there. I just never gave them a chance to surface. I shut them up before they could really even make a peep. Putting it that way, it sort of sounds to me like I was being abusive to my own emotions - which, of course, means I was abusing myself.
Well, shit. No wonder I've hated myself for so damn long.
That's a pretty big epiphany. Is it the entire reason I've been treating myself so poorly for the better part of my life? No. But it's a big part of it. Many things - experiences, the internalization of some pretty cruel notions about myself - have taught me that I'm not worthy; that my body isn't worthy of respect and kindness. I've sought those validations from outside sources for nearly all of my life, and nearly always end up feeling disappointed and hollow. So I filled those spaces with food; thus perpetuating the cycle of self-hatred and, in a way, self-destruction.
I can't explain what switched inside of me, what made me decide that I was ready to face the things that come with such a major change in lifestyle. I know that I had no idea how complex and yet how simple it would be to make the changes and follow through. I had no idea how quickly all of the crap I'd stuffed down with food would bubble to the surface, or how that would make me feel. And even that part is complex, because while I'm steeped in frustration and anger and resentment I'm also aware, on some level, that I'm in control. My angry parts don't know that, nor do they care. But I know it. And when the wave passes I realize that I do know how to take care of myself afterward, how to self-soothe. I never realized that I knew how to do that without food.
Case in point: yesterday was a remarkably frustrating day and my agitation had me so frazzled that I couldn't think clearly at all. I just wanted to rage - but raging alone isn't satisfying, so I wanted an audience. One that would tell me how justified I was in my rage; how good it was to be mad and why everyone else was the problem. But I didn't have an audience. I had myself. So I walked away. I shut my work down, put on comfortable clothes, turned on my much-loved 80s Hair Band Station on Pandora and did something nice for myself. I cooked a great dinner made with fresh food. I danced around my kitchen, I did some air-drumming, I sang, and I let myself get taken back to my high school years, when life really was simple.
I carried this self-care through to today, when I went with a good friend to get out in the sun and take pictures. I went to my happy place and right now I feel good. I feel like myself. I feel like I am, inch by uncomfortable inch, getting back to the me I lost a long time ago. Actually, I think it's the me I always wanted to be but didn't know how. She's the one I've longed for, the one I searched for - in all the wrong places, over and over and over again - and she's the one who is going to kick my life into action. I like her. She's a cool chick. She isn't perfect, and never will be. But she's real. She's not hiding. She's ready to live. I can't wait to get to know her.
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