I have been quiet for a while. A long while really, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about food, lifestyle choices and emotional eating. What I came to about six months ago was that I am tired of dieting, of dieting choices, of thinking about foods I do or do not eat because of some reason important or not. I am tired of spending so much time on why I am not the size, shape, fitness I want to be. My first memory of being “chubby” was when I was eleven. That is a long time to be thinking about this. Yes, it is important. It is vital. Really, how can anything be important if you don’t have your health?
But for me, that isn’t the problem. My health is good. My fitness is good. My eating is good. It is my head-case-ness about eating that isn’t. And this, unfortunately, hasn’t changed through all the experimentation, the great ways of eating and the interesting lifestyle choices.
So, for the last six months I have just done what I wanted (mostly). And (mostly) it works. I am larger than I would like, I am slower than I would like and I eat meat (more than I would like).
I no longer want to be special. Eat special. Be different. I rarely even talk about it. I tell people I am a librarian, even though my license is about to expire. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.
The problem is the problem. It isn’t solved. I still eat emotionally, destructively and without regard for my digestive system. I am still waiting to see when I will just grow the fuck up and stop eating crap. Desiring crap. Needing crap.
I keep trying. Knowing that life is good. That things are definitely better than they were. But that doesn’t help in the moment. That moment of self hate and painful self talk.
So, I stay quiet. I have learned people don’t want to hear this stuff. But ultimately, this is for me. And when it needs to come out. And writing it is much better than eating it.