I actually surprised myself with just how disappointed I was with that knowledge, but I wasn't surprised with my reaction to it. It's a reaction that I know well, and for years has been a big part of the problem with my unhealthy relationship with food. When I gain weight, my self esteem goes through the floor, and all I can think to do is comfort eat. In my brain, in my world, everything HAS to be positive for it to work. But it has to be positive in a certain way. I'll give you some examples. Same scenario, different spins....
So, imagine this as your scenario. I am running on a tread mill. I've run 2k so far, and I'm starting to hit my physical tiredness. I'm at the gym with a friend, who sees that I'm struggling and says "Come on! You can run further than this!" in a bid to spur me on.
That's me done. Toys out of pram. Off the treadmill, into the changing rooms and home. Why? Because the insinuation was that I am not reaching my potential. Because they suggested that I'm not trying my hardest. And I always turn up to everything like that. It always has 100% of my available effort. I immediately switch off if I don't succeed. Basically, I'm a really really bad loser.
OK so back to the scenario. This time the friend says "Wow you're doing really well! Do you need to stop? We can go if you like?"
That's me on the treadmill for another 30 minutes. Why? Because my friend gave me the choice to continue or to go home, and reminded me that I'm doing well. I'm encouraged and spurred on as a result. I'm doing well! Hey, I reckon I can do better than this.... if I go for another 30 minutes, think how much better I'll have done then!
I don't love exercise. I love the feeling that I get after it, but it's not something that I relish doing. It's a way for me to be able to eat more food whilst continuing to lose weight (HA!) So imagine that reaction about ten fold, when you apply it to food, which is something that I really DO love!
When I get on the scales, and I've gained 0.9kg, if I get told that it's because I only went 2 out of 3 times to the gym but it's OK because I've done well, and think of all the weight loss I've managed, put it into perspective and try harder next week?
KABOOOOOM!!! Mental implosion. Tears. My brain fixes on the one thing that was negative. That I didn't go to the gym enough. I didn't try hard enough. It was my failing.
Now imagine being poor, kind, loving Matthew. Who just so happened to actually deliver the last line.
Poor soul.
At this point, as I repeatedly strop and think very seriously about immersing myself in a bath of McDonalds special sauce, while simultaneously ramming Big King burgers down my throat and drinking full ice-cream milkshakes, I realised that I've not beaten my demons. And I don't think that I ever will. I will NEVER be able to look at a bar of chocolate and see something I can have a little of. I have a problem with controlling myself around food. And the only reason why I have managed to maintain the success I have over the past few months, is because it has been just that. Continued success.
This is the hardest part then. When I have to rally, and make that success happen again. I have had a bad weekend. I have sulked, and eaten too much in a bid to steady my slightly injured soul. But now I have to start again. Forgive myself, and move forward.
I want to acknowledge the support of Matt and of my friends, predominantly on facebook, who were lovely and kind, and supportive just when I really did need it. I know that this may seem melodramatic, but it feels like I'm on a battlefield and it's a war that I can only win with support. I really want to win too.
I would blog about the rest of my weekend, but it involved train spotting. In an anorak. So here are the photos.
G out x
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