So, basically, exercising has hit a rough patch. My eating disorder has become a ravenous beast determined to eat me alive. After I got over the sick I wrote about in my last post, I exercised for 1 more week (that stupid cold took us all 2 weeks to get over). Then I stopped because my parents were coming to visit and they stay in our home when they are here. For various reasons, I don't want my parents to know I am attempting to exercise on a regular basis, so I didn't while they were visiting. But by that time I had thought I noticed a very slight change in how my shirts fit (I now seriously doubt that anything had changed at all) and that kicked my mindset from exercising because my sedentary lifestyle is unhealthy and I don't feel good, to exercising to lose weight. And I needed to lose that weight fast, faster than just exercising would. I started looking up exercise routines that claimed to make you lose weight quickly and trying to figure out if I could do them; I started researching different diet plans SOLELY for the weight loss claims. The biggest one I looked at was the Paleo diet. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to afford to do it, though I kept looking. And I kept telling myself that I wouldn't stop eating, I was just going to change WHAT I ate (Red Flag #1). But I did quit eating. My excuse was because we didn't have any Paleo appropriate food in the house, so I couldn't eat, or else I was just going to keep gaining weight, because evil carbs, yo (Red Flag #2). And what I considered appropriately Paleo was getting more and more narrow until basically I was mentally only allowing myself steamed veggies, ground beef and eggs (NOTE: I never actually got around to eating this way consistently, but I was planning for eventuality). I did eat dinner because I didn't want The Man to realize what I was doing (Red Flag #3). The day I sat down at my computer and very consciously told myself that I wasn't going to eat lunch that day because I was fat and needed to lose weight (Red Flag #4) was the day that I realized it was getting out of control. And it scared me (though I still didn't eat lunch. By that point, I couldn't, once I had made up my mind not too). I really do hate the way I look, but I am NOT going to be the reason my daughter has any eating or self-image issues. So for the last 2ish months I've been working hard at pushing all thoughts and plans and attempts at changing my diet drastically away. It's been really hard and really confusing, because I know that my diet leaves much to be desired. It's not as unhealthy as it was a few years ago, when I was using a lot of processed foods in my cooking, but it's still not great. I don't eat nearly as many vegetables as I need to, or even want to. I eat a lot of carbs. And I love to snack. I had to quit exercising, because all I could think of was if I was going to wake up the next day skinny again. And I hated knowing that I wasn't. I've started looking for and reading HAES (Health At Every Size) blogs and articles. Because that's what I know I should want, and a big part of me does. I really do want to care very little about how my body actually looks, as long as I'm strong enough to fight off the zombies when they attack. Or I at least won't get seriously winded 30 seconds into the fight. I mean, I want to be able to make a good EFFORT, at least. So that's my reason for my long disappearance this time (aside from my totally boring life. Potty training, woo hoo!). Today was the first day I felt really ready to admit to this. I'm really grateful that it wasn't a total relapse; I don't even want to think about being in that place again, or how it would affect my daughter. I'm having to re-train my brain again though, which really sucks. I mean, carbs are not going to make me explode in fat; I'm not going to wake up weighing 596 pounds tomorrow just because I had a sandwich today. I know this, but I don't KNOW that. *sigh* There is a huge part of me that wishes I were single and childless so that I could quit eating again. That sickening thought is one of my strongest wishes. That and wishing I had never gained weight in the first place. Knowing that if I had remained in charge of my food, I wouldn't have. And hating that I so easily gave up that control. These thoughts are with me constantly right now. And I hate it, even as I hold tightly to them, hoping for at least part of them to come true.
