This week has been an Epic battle to simply stay in this. It is not about food or cravings or just wanting freedom from the plan. I actually find security in the plan I am given. I like the structure.
Rather, this week has been a panicked realization that I actually believe that Leif Anderson has the answer for my body and that this plan will work. With my recent losses, the compliments and comments on how great I am looking have resumed and the other night a random man followed me around the grocery store basically hitting on me.
While it has been funny and fun in the moment, the realization of what continued weight loss means has struck fear in my heart. I am talking panicky feelings that have woken me in the night leaving me with little sleep. I know that my fears are not based in reality and after several years of therapy I know that my weight, while on some level served its purpose as a child, is a false sense of safety and security for me as one who has been abused. Being fat offers me no guarantees that I will never be abused again. It does not promise that I will never have trust broken again or that I will never be hurt.
In fact, being fat has just left me with lots of longings and the pain of missed opportunities.
While I know all this to be true and that the fear and panic and all that has come with it are really just attacks of the slimy one, it doesn’t make it any easier to navigate through this week as my go-to coping mechanism that has served me for 30 years has kicked in to high gear. Scared? Eat. Nervous? Eat. Anxious? Eat.
Now, while this pattern has been my desire on some level all week-long, it doesn’t mean I have given in every time it has risen (which is hourly, and sometimes by the minute) It just means that the fight has been huge and my limits have been stretched thin. And I am tired. Exhausted really.
Driving from Point A to Point B has become a battle ground as I pass fast food joint after fast food joint that would have once served my purposes well. I have often felt like I was driving through a minefield, tense and anxious as I scanned my eyes left and right anticipating the explosion of what could be the hidden bomb that takes me out. The urges to self medicate were 1000 times worse if I was hungry, which is about every 2.5 hours I start feeling hungry. So to thwart this, I always had the Leif approved foods with me…and if I didn’t as in the case of dinner, I would go home first as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, this meant that I didn’t necessarily make it back out to go to the gym because even full I didn’t think I could run the fast food gauntlet again…and win.
I am drained and ready for this phase of this battle to be over. Yet, I refuse to give in. I refuse to give up. I refuse to let Satan win this battle by giving in and letting fear of the unknown win.
I might not have won every battle I fought this week, but I will win this war.
OK, now that I have processed some of this, perhaps I will be able to sleep. I will save the Fried Chicken Story for another night, and leave you with this photo that a friend sent me today on FB. Working on this bravery thing.