Wednesday, January 14, 2009
PT Camp - day 2: Confessions of a warped mind.
This is how I felt leaving PT camp today. Now hold on to your butts kids, this is gonna get ugly. Since this was intended to be an on-line journal of sorts, I'm going to go all cathartic on you and bare some nasty little items about myself.
I'm weird in the head. Yup. Weird in the head.
It all started in high school. Okay, maybe even before then, I could write a whole novel on my childhood, but let's just say, I needed to control SOMETHING in my life. Food became the control issue. Got weird in high school and early twenties. Got married. Marriage good, kids came along, busy with a happy life. Sure struggles, but really, all in all, good things. Stayed active, exercised moderately, and was young enough that I could eat pretty much whatever I wanted.
Then the bottom fell out about 4 years ago. Life = stress and things that were WAY out of my control. Ate myself to an extra 65+ lbs. I'm generally a fairly thin, healthy gal, not at this point. Whoa Nelly! I got a look of myself in a picture and went WHAT THE ??? High cholesterol, high blood pressure, chest pains, anxiety.....
Got serious about some exercising, and started to lose little by little. NOT.FAST.ENOUGH. Not feeling good about it at all. So, oops-a-doodle, look what happened! Old thoughts, patterns and behaviors from my younger self crept right back into my repertoire. What started as a simple plan to get back into shape spiraled right out of control. And then here I am today, battling the same thoughts and struggles. I really thought a miracle had occurred about 6 weeks ago, and thought that I was all better. But, I think it was a temporary reprieve, and that somehow, I will deal with this forever.
So this leads me to this morning. Purdy pulled out the scale. Now I have a lot of rules about food, exercise and the scale. My scale rule is that I only weigh in on Saturday mornings, only the same scale at the gym, and only in the dressing room in my complete skivvies. She made me get on fully dressed WITH shoes. OY VAY! (which for those of you who don't know, means Holy Crap in Jewish).
I realize it's just a number, I realize it's not real. I can tell myself all day long that it doesn't count, it wasn't done properly (according to my rules), I can tell myself that all the live long day, but that number WAS STILL THERE!!
Now, don't misunderstand me. I am not a starver, I eat. In fact I can pack it away like no other AND outeat my husband most of the time. (which by the way, when I do eat like that, I stew about it inside for days)
I am not a thrower-upper. That is disgusting and I really want to keep my nice teeth.
I am however a very controlling, rules driven person ESPECIALLY when it comes to food and exercise.
I've sought help, I have a great support network and Splenda Daddy is a saint. But when I have little melt downs because of the "numbers", well, I'm gonna just have to have them. Telling me to just eat more or take a break from the gym or even to not think about it, would be like telling me to stop breathing. It's like telling an overweight person, just stop eating. Or a smoker to just stop smoking. It DOES.NOT.HAPPEN.THAT.WAY.
So for today, I am the ugly fat girl that has no coordination and everyone now knows it and will stop being her friend because she is so pathetic.
Tomorrow, I will feel better. I think.
Thanks for listening and please no pity comments. I'm all full up here!