Saturday, July 27, 2013

From the heart...

Sometimes there are people that on the outside look like they have it all together... On good days, a solid fifty percent of the time, I might be that girl. I keep a clean house, the kids are dressed cute, we're out the door and are busy bodies... and life is good. We have a loving, happy family and I'm living my dream life of being a stay-at-home-mom. I'm really pretty chipper and am not lying when I say I love my life. But trust me, everyone has issues. I haven't met a person that doesn't. Every day of my life, I struggle. Hello, My name is Shelley, and I'm an emotional eater.

So many people struggle with eating disorders. I often joke that I couldn't be anorexic or bulimic if I tried... I try not eating, but by ten in the morning, I'm downing 1200 calories without thinking twice. Never once have I tried to barf my gut... I enjoy the food going down, and a nasty burp grosses me out, so I don't think I could handle upchucking my meal. I say this all lightly, when in fact, it's nothing to joke about. At all. And trust me, I get it. So many people don't get how weight issues affect people. They mess with your head, dictate your thoughts, and there are times that there really is nothing you can do about it... and at times, nothing you want to do about it. In a strange sense, I sometimes enjoy it. Isn't that crazy- I enjoy the very thing that I can't stand about myself. But it's true. Before I feel gross about what I have done to my body, I enjoy the fact that I can pull my car up to a drive thru, order an extra value meal, make it a large, add three sugar cookies and a small nugget to it and not think twice. So many people would NEVER do that. It's invigorating to me that I can just do that when others can't... or wouldn't. And it doesn't cross my mind that it's abnormal until after everything goes down the hatch... and that's when all the emotions start.

I eat. I love to eat. Some people say you need to eat to live and not live to eat... and that's my problem. I eat when I'm happy, mad, silly, sad, and every instance in between. I eat when it's rainy, I eat when it's sunny. I eat when I'm starving, and I eat when I'm full. It's my coping mechanism. It's my way of self-medicating.

In the morning, I head to swim team starting out with a healthy breakfast with the best of intentions to "start my diet today." It's not that I don't try. But then I haul my small gang of children to swim team, get through two hours of practice, have to shower my daughter right when my baby is tired and hungry, and when it's all said and done, I pile us all in the minivan and my car drives itself to Wendy's to ease my nerves with a Jr. Whopper. It tastes good, and for that very minute when I'm indulging, I feel like I'm back on track. Then the guilt sets in. I feel like I've let myself down and things spiral out of control from there. It's like I have these internal voices saying I messed up, so today's not the day. It's just not my day for a fresh start. By lunchtime I've had a few snacks and then I'm in the pantry. Then around naptime, I've had a playdate, or my kids haven't listened and I turn to my friend... Ya know, a Diet Coke and something crunchy... and then end it with something sweet.

Dinner time comes around and with a hubby that travels, on nights that he is gone, that is when it sucks the most... When you see all the other men puling into the neighborhood and you envision sweet dinners around the dinner table and get upset that you're going to have tired kids and probably be running on empty before the bedtime routine. Of course "bad for you" food is the one thing that makes a dinner around your kitchen island where Mommy is standing bouncing a baby in between bites feel better... at least for the time being.

And after the kids are down for the count, and you are so mad at yourself for yet another day where you didn't stick to your diet, the only thing that sounds good when the hubz is gone is a few (or ten) spoonfuls of cookie batter and a coke. And instead of happily ever after, you go to bed mad at yourself for yet another day of being a failure with your weight. And it sucks. Bad.

Pepole will say, just eat healthy. It's not that I don't want to... but eating is my drug of choice. A drug you don't want, but you have to have... and the high you get from it feels so good. At least for a hot second.

Yep, so now that you think I'm bona fide cray, cray... I'm treating this problem like so many addicts do. I'm going cold turkey... and starting two shakes a day, two, small healthy snacks, and a lean, mean dinner.

They said I need to go to rehab, and I said No, no, no... I don't want to be an Amy Whinehouse and eat myself to death.:) Here goes nothing!

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