Food and I have not been getting along very well this week. Actually to be frank, we have not been getting along at all. This is not because I’ve come down with a bug or any illness that has me feeling in the dumps. Nor is it because of any internal problem that has me turned off from food (and no Mother, before you ask, I’m not pregnant). To be honest, this week I’ve been struggling a little. Let me start from the beginning.
I mentioned in the other day’s post that I’d recently taken a trip up to Iowa, not that big of a deal, but traveling always makes me a little food wary. And I got to enjoy many wonderful and fun meals out with my mom and friends at some great restaurants all over Des Moines. Again, not a big problem because I mainly was able to keep to vegan if not vegetarian options each place I went, but eating out always gets the anxiety racing regardless. I was able to get a few good workouts in to slightly ease the angst, but they only tamed the beast slightly. What really the nerves firing was cake, lots of cake. (Ok, it equaled out to be about 2 1/2 cupcakes, not the entire sheet cake I had envisioned)
While in Iowa, I took the opportunity to get some checks off the ol’ wedding list. The Train and I still hadn’t decided on our dessert we were going to be serving, so I met up with my mom and headed to the most wonderful and heavenly place ever, a cupcake shop. One hour and 5 cupcakes later – shared between my mother and myself – I not only felt a pang of guilt from eating nonvegan cupcakes, but extreme fear of all the calories I had so willing
pigged out on taken in.
“Shit! Now what am I going to do?! Way to blow it Burns!” was the nicest thing I said to myself the rest of the weekend. If I’d been at home, I may have done an extra workout or eaten an extremely veggie packed dinner to comfort my emotions. But I wasn’t at home. And I couldn’t get an extra workout in or a veggie packed dinner. Shit.
So I battle the feeling inside me all weekend, going back and forth, telling myself I’d be fine, the cupcakes won’t make me gain weight and that I didn’t blow it (But you try telling that to a 9-year-old ED that has kicked you ass for pretty much ever single one of those 9 years – except for this one). Needless to say to put it nicely after the weekend I was an exhausted mess.
After such weekends, I really try to be on top of my game as far as food goes. Getting the most nutritional bang for my buck, I fill my smoothies and my plate with cleansing (and anxiety easing) vegetables. But one night the Train and I did not see eye-to-eye on something which only exacerbated my already spinning mind. Now it felt like I was running a race blindfolded, with one arm tied behind my back, uphill, backwards and naked. Double Shit.
And now it’s Thursday and where am I on this journey of soul searching. It is a good thing the road I’m on is really wide so I am not taken off path easily. I’m still filling my morning – and sometimes afternoon – smoothie with vegetables and fruits that I know I need to get me feeling my best again. And I’m packing my plate full of good-for-me foods, but I am not being as adventurous this week as I have been. I haven’t tried to make a single new recipe yet because I have felt unease about eating something other than my safe foods. I don’t feel as though I’ve taken a step back, but I do feel a little defeat in that I have yet to talk back to the ED this week.
I am proud of myself for not letting the situation completely throw me off track like it would in previous years, and I am pleased that I am nurturing myself with plenty of nutritious foods. But my goal in the beginning of the soul searching was to push myself through uncomfortable situations to finally put this to rest, and although I have pushed myself, it is only to the point at which I feel safe. And safe is not uncomfortable, nor is healing. It is time to up the ante, put on a straight-face, and finally win the match.