Mayday, mayday, mayday!
It is so much harder to stay motivated and make the right decisions when I am not at home. On Saturday morning, I woke up at a friend’s house and discovered it was already 10am! I dressed in some work-out clothes with full intentions to go for a walk. When I entered into the kitchen, I saw that she and my husband were on the deck, taking the canopy off of the frame in preparation for winter.
One of the main reasons for our visit was so my husband could help our friend, the new widow of his best friend Jeff who recently died in a motorcycle accident, with some projects around the house, since Jeff would normally have been the one to do them. I wanted to take a walk with her, so I planned to wait until they were done. But time passed too quickly and they were still hard at work in the garage, so instead, I helped make cinnamon rolls and typed in my journal.
Before I knew it, it was time to shower and start getting ready for the wedding we were planning to attend later that afternoon. Therefore, my plans to walk were dashed. On top of that, we ordered pizza to be delivered for lunch, so there were already two big holes in my plan.
Instead of turning my sinking ship around and heading for shore, I decided to go even deeper and make sure my ship was good and sunk. At the wedding reception, I had two Long-Island-Teas and a home-made Sangria, which all told were probably 600 calories or more. The two meal choices were a roast beef dinner with a baked potato or chicken fettuccine with a breadstick and I chose the latter, even though I have a mild allergy to dairy once in a while.
We left the wedding reception, without even staying for the first dance, and so what did I decide to eat when we got back to our friend's house? – two more slices of pizza and 2 big slices of an ice cream cake - of course! I knew that there would be consequences from every direction, but I did not expect to toss and turn from a tummy ache and then rush to the bathroom several times in the night. I was not throwing up, but I will spare you the details of what did happen in there.
My body literally got sick from the food and drink choices I made during the day. It did not happen often in the past, but enough times that it was one of the main reasons that I wanted to start this journey. I never imagined that I would have to learn the lesson again this soon.
My brain was craving food all day, probably like a drug addict anticipates her next fix. Once I decided to throw caution to the wind, I wanted to eat anything and everything that I could. By the end of the day, my stomach was already starting to ache as I ate the first slice of ice cream cake but instead of putting the spoon down, I finished that piece and obsessed about the next piece and how much time I would have to wait until I could put it on my plate and eat it in front of my family and friends without looking like an animal. It was hard to make small talk and focus on any activity outside of eating. There are no two ways about it – I am a food-aholic (equivalent of alcoholic except food instead of alcohol, but you probably already figured that out.)
If I dig deep into my emotional psyche, I realize that all of the work and stress of this project is pretty overwhelming. Then if you take me from my home and my comfort foods, there is an even better chance that I will make bad choices. Next, add in the circumstances of this pandemic, the continued grief that we are still feeling after the death of our friend, no exercise and a wedding with distant in-laws, I am bound to go off the rails. But somehow, I need to let it all go and forgive myself because tomorrow is a new day. I got this far, right? With a little effort, I should be able to resurface my ship and maybe even sail it into the sunset once again – just as long as I do not give up hope.