One More Day at a Time...

Feeling better today... better about myself. Managed to not eat between meals yesterday. Really difficult! After months of snacking, it was a struggle to maintain between-meal abstinence yesterday. Maybe it will be a bit easier today. So far, so good... One hour at a time.

One of my friends says, "Sometimes it has to be one minute at a time." I get that.

Part of the earlier sadness is about the damage I've been doing to myself. Turning that around will help, I think. Part of feeling better today is being honest yesterday.

Thanks to my visitors yesterday... I appreciated your comments very much.

Honestly....

Feeling blue today, lonely, sad. Trying to get in touch with these feelings, explore them, accept them... rather than take the easy way out, the coward's fix... food. Some reasons why I might feel blue...

1.

Oh heck, I don't want to dwell on the blue side of life. Or maybe I don't want to know why I'm sad, maybe I'm afraid of knowing. I was sad yesterday too. Rain and chilly weather... I could blame wanting to eat and wanting to take naps on the weather...

Or maybe I could look for some sunshine. This is a diary post, just writing, not thinking much... journaling. Topic at OA meeting today was "being honest with ourselves." Lots of ways we can look at that topic... I suggested it because I don't think I'm being honest with myself about my weight gain in the past year or about what really is at the bottom of the gain. I came away thinking I'd said such dumb things. I drove home thinking that every person in our safe, loving group is at least overweight; some obese. Am I overweight, borderline obese, or obese? I really don't know the guidelines. Hmmm... I'll Google that one.

I just read a bunch of stuff about BMI (body mass index), and some guidelines for gender/age/height weight. According to that (and to what I know about myself, where and how weight is distributed over my body), I figure I am about 22 pounds over weight. I was within 9 pounds of an acceptable number a year ago, and have gained 13 pounds in the year since then, most of it in the last 6 months.

I gained the weight by overeating... not following my food plan. The results? Goodbye size 10 jeans; hello size 12; then hello tight size 12. More importantly, the results are that I'm feeling sad, discouraged, self-deprecating.

I'm admitting to myself and to others the exact nature of my wrongs. I binged on chips, bread, cereal, butter, nuts, and peanut butter, overeating in this manner nearly every day since sometime last fall. I gave myself much larger portions than I needed to satisfy hunger. I regularly cruised the kitchen, thinking something to eat, a treat, would make my life easier or make me feel better. Wallowing in weakness, I gave in to compulsive overeating, knowing I was doing it, doing it anyway. I am telling the truth about myself.

No more lying to myself, saying I'm the same as I was a year ago, saying maybe I just gained a pound or two, saying my eating is only slightly off-program.

This seems to be a good starting point for the rest of my life, eh? One day at a time, even one hour at a time, eating according to my food plan. For today: a sensible, light breakfast (done), a sensible lunch, a sensible dinner, no snacks or between-meal eating. This is a gift to me from me (and my higher power) for today.

Weddings

I've been thinking about being married and my friend, who's never been married, these past few days. Seems the best way to express my thoughts on the subject is in a poem....

Either Way

May and June, the wedding season,

take me back to days of writing

‘Mrs. Bob Lewis’ over and over again,

covering pages in my notebook

in print, in script, in cursive.

A few months later, I’m writing

‘Mrs. Ed Hutchinson’, like before

only trying out this new name,

wondering if HE is the ONE,

planning our wedding, our family.

Years, and a couple of lovers later,

I ask, will I ever find the ONE, get married,

have kids and live happily ever after?

A romp of many more years passes

with a few more lovers, fleeing hopes.

I give up on marriage. I am tainted

with the failure of spinsterhood, yet

oddly comfortable in my little home,

paid in full, and my sole proprietorship,

comfortably alone, most of the time.

Meanwhile, my friends are married,

some of them divorced and married again.

I attend bridal showers, weddings.

The baby showers begin, followed by

graduations and the kids’ weddings.

Part of me envies this pattern,

while part of me questions

‘Is this really all it’s cracked up to be?’

Still, it seems my parents would love

 for me to settle into a marriage.

So, yes, at age 55, I meet someone

who seems to be the ONE,

the man of my dreams. We marry.

We struggle to find a balance

between independence and partnership.

A good friend, now in her 70’s,

with a few sweet lovers in her life,

never married. We meet for lunch.

She’s retiring, talking about travel,

making plans, exciting times, happy.

Neither of us has children or grand-kids.

Both of us are capable of great adventures,

she with only herself to consider,

me with a partner, a husband,

who has his own ideas about the future.

Pity not the single ones, the spinsters.

Believe not that marriage is necessary

for contentment in a woman’s life.

Either way, with or without the ONE,

we will have our glory and our pain.

RA