No rest for the weary, but they can have delicious meals
I had a long, weird week this week. My husband and I went to our permanent home in Chicago for the week, to do some work out of the home office, and meet with the accountant to get our taxes done. And while we were gone, some shady stuff went down at our job site. Which meant he had to rush back to take care of that, and I had to get our taxes taken care of by myself. Plus, my workout routine was thrown off, so while I *did* go on my jog every day, every single day was a struggle with myself to do it. And also, I’m gaining weight. Even though I am eating exactly the same and working out 5 days a week just like always. The weight gain, thankfully doesn’t throw me into a pit of despair, but doesn’t make me particularly happy either.
And this week doesn’t get any easier. Because we still have to move on to our next job in Oklahoma, which means being out of our apartment in Tennessee and moved into our apartment in Oklahoma by Friday. No rest for the weary.
And the truth is, I’m weary.
When times like this come around, I have to remind myself that that’s life. Sometimes I just tired. Sometimes I’m just sad. Sometimes I’m just worried or restless or cranky. And if there *is* something to change, which, of course, sometimes there is, it’s always me. It’s always my thing to change. Like my eating, or my sleeping, or my attitude, or my expectations. When I was eating compulsively, I was always looking to force change on something or someone else. Then I could be happy.
That never worked.
Regarding my weight gain, I could change the way I am eating, and eat lighter options with less fat, to see if I would lose this weight. But my experience is that it doesn’t always help. And one way that I keep my food boundaries is by fighting the food with the food. I eat foods that I find delicious and satisfying to keep myself from feeling deprived of cake. Because if I ended up eating sugar and carbs, even just a little (at first), the little bit of weight I’m gaining for no reason, would end up being a lot of weight I was gaining for a very valid reason. Because I would never be able to stop at a little. I’d be 300 lbs again in a minute. Ok, not a minute. But definitely a year, and possibly 6 months. And that is *not* an exaggeration.
And I suppose there is a reason I’m tired. Because two 7-8 hour drives in a week, plus all of the life obligations I had to handle in between was a lot. And I will be a busy bee this week, wrapping up the work I can here, and starting up the work I have there. Along with moving a home from one place to another.
But there is nothing to fix. All there is to do is one thing at a time. Keep my food under control. Take care of my body and my mind. Take care of my work and home obligations. Put one foot in front of the other. And refrain from worrying about anything not in my control. Which, frankly, is not as hard as it sounds. And is much easier when my belly is full of guilt-free food, and my mind is clear of shame and worry.
onceafatgirl 