Today, I was having a shit day. Scratch that. A pooptacular week. Nix it. Really, I have been having a craptastic month. Sure, I have been muscling through it and doing my best to keep a smile on this sassy face, but for the most part I have been hanging out in the doldrums. I’ve been going through a lot and it’s been forcing me to to deal with a whole lot of things my fat used to protect me from. Logically, I knew as the number on the scale dropped, so would my defenses against all the skeletons in my closet. Knowing about a future horrible, awful state and having to actually feel it are two wildly different things. I am not sure that if I had really known how hard all this would be that I would have soldiered on so bravely in the beginning. I am not sure I would have gotten this far. I probably would have just given up and had a cupcake (or a dozen). I am so glad I was oblivious.
I suppose the thing I hate most is the worry. The fear that I’ll lose the battle, and that instead of conquering my demons I will return to old habits. I have been so proud of being able to rip away the emotional properties of food in my life, but now they are returning in a weird counter-intuitive way. Food now creates worry, rather than comfort. It’s like a cheeseburger has this power to make me run down the street grabbing my hair like some awkward curly-haired women in an Alfred Hitchcock film. It’s all quite difficult for me to process. I just want a normal healthy relationship with food. Is that too much to ask? Maybe it doesn’t exist.
Today it sure felt like that. Well, it felt like a lot of things. I felt disgusted with how I had let myself get overweight. I pitied myself for what I had gone through. I loathed myself for the pitying. I worried about the future. I got angry about the past. I felt dissatisfied with the present. I was completely and totally overwhelmed with a truck load of conflicting and confusing emotions. I might have snuck off to the bathroom to cry… twice. I am not sure how much it would take to break my determination and spirit, but I imagine right now, in this very moment, I am close. Don’t you worry though, I am fighter, and I won’t go down without one hell of a war. 🙂
As I was sitting in my desk with an inner symphony of battling emotions erupting in my heart, I couldn’t help but want for a sign that not everything was broken in my life. I left the office to find some peace and serenity (or a taco). After my salsa rejuvenation, I came back to just the sign I was looking for. There in the kitchen of my office were boxes and boxes of Zico. I had met one of the marketing managers a week back and she had mentioned wanting to stock my fridge with the tastiness. I guess she wasn’t kidding. While coconut water won’t solve all my problems and it won’t make everything better- it did remind me of something.
When I can’t believe in myself and when things seem totally and completely overwhelming, there are a sea of people who are there behind me pushing me forward. It’s the “work family” that constantly and unconditionally supports me, the friends who remind me how many battles I’ve already won, and the people I have never met who show their support in the warmest of ways through this blog or Facebook or whatever that keeps me going. It’s my one continual piece. Whenever I feel the most shattered and fractured, I remember each of you. You are always there to hold my hand, pat my head, give me a hug and help me through this process.