It is amazing to me how quickly an emotional storm begins and ends. There is no weather man to forecast when one of these things is going to hit or the potential for damage or really how bad it is going to get…and certainly not how long it will last. No wonder I feel crazy when this kind of stuff hits!
I ended the week before last in a good place with a healthy view of the big picture. I was excited to move on to the next week and see what comes. I was not upset by the scale but rather I laughed at it. Then, the storm came.
It took about 2 seconds for me to go from being in this great place, ready to conquer the world to a place where I felt like I was hanging precariously on the edge of a mountain…
…except that I was being beat by gale force winds and torrential rain and as far as I could tell in the moment, I had no belay line attached to me.
As you read earlier this week I lived the last week in a lot of fear and trembling and literally just tried to hang on. Going forward seemed impossible so it became a battle that meant waiting out the storm without getting pushed backwards.
Here is just a sample of ONE of the battles I faced in that crazy week.
On Monday, I already knew that my tolerance for being around foods that were not in my plan was VERY low. I KNEW this like I knew my own name. I also have house mates (2 brothers and mom) who choose NOT to eat as I do and so we make separate meals. Up until this week, I have NEVER asked them NOT to have something specific in the house if I am around.
Monday night, mom and bro and I were driving to my nieces dance recital when we passed a KFC. Now some of you long time readers might remember that I once put my friendship with dear Aaron on the line over some fried chicken. If not you can read about that HERE! Mom suggested we stop and pick some up. As I looked over at her, aghast that she would even suggest that I eat that, I clearly told her the following.
KFC(aka fried chicken) will NOT be in my car. I am not stopping. This is a tough week for me and I cannot be around it. In fact, I am asking that if you really want it, that you get it on a night I am not home and that it all be gone before I get home.
I think I was pretty clear.
Tuesday, mom was watching all the kids and I managed to run the gauntlet of fast food choices back home without stopping anywhere, to the safety of my home where I had a planned and approved meal waiting for me. As I pulled in I breathed a sigh of relief that I was home safely and without incident.
Until I walked in the house and smelled…fried chicken. Homemade. The stuff I grew up and fat on. The stuff that even beats out KFC in my book. But that is ok, it is just a smell. With 6 kids plus 3 adults in the house, it has gotta be all gone by now. As I walked through the kitchen to my room to put my stuff away, I knew instantly I was wrong. Not only was there some left, there was so much left it looked as though no one had eaten yet! There was at least a DOZEN pieces of beautiful fried chicken on a platter on the counter.
Are you F%^&*ing kidding me? Really? Did we not have this conversation the night before? Was I NOT clear that I needed help this week and having that around would NOT be helpful?
Mom comes in the kitchen and smiles and tells me how she made it because she knows the kids like it. I reminded her of our conversation last night. She laughed and said…But it is NOT KFC!
Bro, who was with us the night before and who keeps talking about needing/wanting to lose weight and has offered to pay me to prep meals for him, laughs and also points out how it is not KFC.
I went in the bathroom and cried. Balled really. This…is my family. This is how we support each other…or not. This is why I have friends…to help me deal with them. I sat in the bathroom, KNOWING full well that I wanted that chicken and knowing that would be the worst decision I could make and yet I had to go back out there and share space with the chicken while prepping my own meal all the while hungry physically and in a really tough emotional place.
When I felt ready (after having texted Aaron and Coach in a panic), I went back out and tried to prep my meal on the other side of the kitchen. Unfortunately, all of my usual stuff I use is kept in one cupboard, right above where the chicken was. I moved the chicken around to wherever I was not. I did a ton of self talk. I thought about Aaron and how fried chicken was the root of a lie that could have cost me my friendship with him (thankfully, he is a pretty gracious guy). I thought about Coach and how much time he and Aaron have invested into supporting me through the last 4 years. I thought about Leif and Tate and how disappointed all 4 of these men would be if I gave in. I thought about myself and what I wanted, what I was working for and how this would NOT support my vision for my life. I thought about how hard I have worked and how much I didn’t want to lay all that aside. I prayed. I cried. I got angry. (ALOT goes on in my head in the 12 minutes it takes for me to do final prep on a meal that is pretty much prepped)
and after all of that…
I didn’t win this night.
This was just one of the million battles I fought the last week. I happened to lose this one. And while in the moment, this storm felt like it was never going to end (it lasted about 4 days, 4 awful days), Thursday I woke up and it didn’t feel so crazy. It felt like perhaps just a strong breeze was blowing. It didn’t feel emotionally/nutritionally dangerous for me to simply get out of bed. By Friday, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that anything crazy had happened this week.
Yep, this is why I feel crazy at times.