Think of the worst possible thing that your family could suffer. Now back that fear off by about 10%. That’s the stress and fear my family has been living under for the past three weeks or so.
What happened to us is far too personal to share on a blog, but suffice it to say my family is still shaken. We’re muddling through, doing our best to believe that our sense of stability will return. It’s tough, laden with tears, but we’re trying. We’re focused on the goal.
All of this stress and–I’m going there–horror has kicked my already unhealthy relationship with food into overdrive. I have not been to my Weight Watchers meeting since this began and I haven’t been following my points. My mood has scraped bottom enough that my husband suggested I seek counseling again. Depression is not conducive to weight loss, especially when your big goal for the day is just lugging yourself out of bed. I have, for all intents and purposes, stopped trying to lose weight, my weight loss goals seeming so selfish in my family’s time of need.
This week I’m trying even harder. I am probably going to my meeting this week. What’s holding me back is that I have to change my meeting time because of this crisis. I’m not sad because I will do whatever needs to be done to get the four of us through this, but it’s scary for a socially inept person such as myself to take that plunge into the murky waters of friendship. Now I’m starting that process all over again and that is frightening to me. It took me six months to start talking to people in my old meeting. And here I am beginning again.
I know I’m not the first person to have an unhealthy relationship with food. In times of stress I eat. In times of major stress I flip the bird to my goals and eat everything bad for me that I can get my hands on. Good choices don’t just fall by the wayside, they fall off the map entirely, no longer existing, not just being ignored. I’ve eaten loads of food that was bad for me, and I did it consciously.
Why? Why do I knowingly beat myself up?
Some of the reason is that I’ve been questioning everything about myself these past three weeks. Am I a good enough mom? A good enough wife? A good enough person? I have a tendency to be painfully honest and, when I turn that laser focus on myself, I am unusually cruel. And I just can’t stop beating myself up. The easiest way to do that is to consume mass quantities of cake, grease and fully leaded pop, trying to make myself feel better.
Another reason that has not escaped me is that I am, in effect, punishing myself for my failings by doing the one thing I know is blatantly bad for me.
Be patient with me, dear reader. I’m crawling out of a hole right now and I’m doing so with less than just a little oomph behind me. Luckily, we have a support system in place. We have a great family, awesome friends and we’re surrounded by love. We’ll get out of this funk with their help. In time.