This week would normally be a very "dangerous" week for me. I was gone every single evening -- support group, therapy appt, haircut, work...even tonight T and I will be registering couples for the Retrouvaille weekend our community is having. However, every time the mom/wife guilt fairy has popped into my head, I have shushed her firmly. This is one week out of my life, and I will not let stress and guilt drive me to unhealthy behaviors.
I had a very good talk this week with my therapist. I shared my "eating as decompression" theory with her and we chatted about my compulsive/impulsive eating. I told her I haven't binged much at all for the past few weeks, but I sometimes find myself eating something almost unconsciously. I walk past the goodies and work and, almost before I realize it, I'm taking a bite from a cookie. I'm very driven by external cues, so if I come home and T is eating, I immediately want to join him whether I'm hungry or not. She challenged me: the very next time I find myself eating something I had not planned on, I'm to walk over to the sink or trash and throw it away. Eek. I can't imagine doing that if it's something yummy. She asked how I thought I'd feel if I did that and I answered, "Empowered". She said, "Exactly!"
Now I feel as though I'm hyper-aware of everything I eat. I've had a few thoughts pop into my head, but haven't acted on them. For example, R's godmother mailed her an Easter basket of candy. There were some Whoppers in it and I took them to work because no one in our family likes them. The next day I noticed that someone had opened the carton and I started to walk toward them to get one. Then I stopped, literally, in my tracks and thought, "HELLO?!? You brought these in to work because you don't particularly like them!"
Near the end of our session, she said, "It sounds as though the theme "not good enough" has come up a lot for you in life". I had to admit that it had, very often. She told me to journal or write a poem about "not good enough". I haven't started yet, but I've been mulling it over every morning when I walk the dog.
The other morning I weighed 171.2. It's so nice not to have skintight pants anymore.
One more thing I have to share. Last week R said to me, "Mom, I'm finding it so hard to believe in the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus because I see so little real magic in the world. When I read books the wizards and fairies seem so real to me, but I look around and I just don't see it." Sometimes I think she is a 70-year-old lady trapped in a 10-year-old's body.
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