The title really says it all. It has been a very rough last few days. Both physically and mentally.
And in terms of weight loss, or the lack thereof.
On Thursday night, my 13 year old daughter got her first experience with heartbreak. Her boyfriend, for the past three months, decided to break up with her. For no rhyme or reason. With no explanation. Completely unexpectedly.
It shattered my poor daughter into a million pieces. And I've been trying to glue the pieces back together ever since.
On top of that, I had a day long workshop to attend on Friday, and was at an all day volleyball tournament yesterday.
It's been a very busy few days...and it's left me scrounging around for meal ideas and trying to stay focused.
But, I'll be honest. I've faltered. Quite a bit, actually. According to the scale when I stood on it this morning because I knew that it was going to give me some news to shake me from my lackluster efforts from the past couple of days - and knock me back in to the reality of what I need to be doing.
It's amazing to me how quickly I can go from believing I'm on my way to true healing, breaking away from the desires and urges to eat badly, committing to healthy eating and living, and believing that I'm on the fast track to a whole different path, only to finding myself right back in those very same situations with only a minor push in that direction.
The scale wasn't mean to me this morning, it was downright honest. This is what happens when you stray...even for a few moments, a few meals. It takes weeks to burn off a few pounds, but mere days to put them back on.
And if I don't do something right now, this very second... I'll be seeing a gain on the scale on Wednesday, which will be my first gain in seven weeks.
So much for hitting my 20lbs lost milestone. It will be more like getting back to the weight I was last week.
When life chooses to throw me curveballs, it always seems to do so all at once. Several at the same time. And I'm left ducking and diving to dodge them, but getting struck by several of them.
I did something terrible for my daughter on Friday night. Something I shouldn't have done, and left me feeling guilty and ashamed.
While trying to make her feel better, I decided to try doing it with food. Ice-cream to be more specific. The break-up food. Sit down with a tub of ice-cream, and you'll feel better routine.
What a bad mother I am. Urging my child to eat junk food to calm her sadness. Turning her to the one thing I've tried for so long to break free from. Using food as a comfort, or a friend in time of need.
Thankfully she's got a better head on her shoulders than I do. She ate some ice-cream, but knew her limits...she's an athlete after all, thank goodness. She knew that turning to ice-cream wouldn't make her feel better or cure her sadness.
I could spill out right here the foods I've consumed these past fews days that I'm ashamed of. I could spill out how I didn't have a choice or they were last minute decisions, even on the back end of careful planning NOT to stray in to eating foods I know I shouldn't be eating. But, I did it. No excuses. My own fault.
The damage has been done, and there's no going back to change it. All I can do now is to try and repair the damage I did, and just start this week over. Again focused and committed. Again reminding myself of the hard work I've put in, and how I can't let life stop me in my tracks or derail me altogether.
There isn't any room for days off, or little slip ups, or minor splurges. Because they all lead to trouble. I've said that I don't have real restrictions on my food intake, being that I keep moderation and portion size in account. But, that wasn't what was on my mind these past couple of days.
I was hurting. I was tired. I was mentally and physically drained. And then opened up old wounds by turning to food for comfort. To help me feel better. To put some kind of handle on my world as it was spinning out of control, and I didn't know what to do about it.
And I wasn't even the one that was dealing with the major heartbreak.
But to see my daughter in that situation put me right there with her. Taking me back to all of those times where my heart was broken, when I felt like the earth just stopped turning and I couldn't function without food to make me feel better.
I thank all things holy that my daughter's way of dealing with this is to cry in her mother's arms. To lay on her bed reminiscing the times with her boyfriend. To try and take her mind off of it with playing sports.
I know I've messed up this week. I know there has been some damage done. And now I must move on and fix it. Take care of it. Not let it falter me or damage me.
Just as I've been telling my daughter to do these past few days...
It's time for me to move on. Start over.
Happiness is out there for the taking. And I can't let bad situations blind me from them.
So, I'm going to take my own advice this week....and rock it out.
Till next time!