Reality

Do you know how they say addicts have to hit rock bottom before they change? I resist calling myself a food addict, but I admit I've used and abused food. In fact, I did it again Friday. As you know, I've been fighting urges for junk food and comfort-eating as I grieve Roo. Thursday morning, when I bought my iced coffee, I also bought a small bag of Doritos. I tucked them away but ate them over the course of Friday, all 3.5 servings. 

I love and enjoy the crunch. The salt. The cheese. I don't love seeing the calories, fat and sodium in my daily tally. But most of all, I don't like that I gave in and did some mindless eating. 

Because it *was* mindless, in spite of the fact I thought about it for 24 hours and made the decision. It felt like mindlessly using food for comfort. And I didn't even go to the gym. 

I'm grieving. I'm depressed. I'm hormonal. All true, and yet — they sound like excuses. 

In spite of my unhealthy choice, I ate all my protein and did better with fluid than I have been. And the scale the next morning, shockingly, was down 2 ounces. I'd almost feel better if it had been up — a kind of penance. 

The next day, I got back on track, focusing on protein and mindfully eating, and I did my cardio workout at the gym. I'm reminding myself of all the changes I've made, how different my life and thought patterns are. I bought a small bag (not huge) of chips, thought about it for a full day (instead of eating them right away), and then ate them slowly (not in one sitting) throughout the day. I'm blogging about it (not hiding it like a shameful secret). I went to the gym. I made sure my nutritional needs were met. 

I might not be as far along as I'd like (never struggling — ha! Not realistic, I suspect), but I guess, all things considered, I'm in an okay place.