I was so happy to see that everyone loved my post last week about CSA’s. I’m also happy that I was able to encourage some of you to start researching CSA’s in your own area!
Today, I’m feeling kind of introspective. I’m in that “hungry” place again. I’ve been trying to figure out where this “hunger” is coming from…what I’m trying to feed. What am I feeding–my belly, my soul, my mind…what?
Hungry.
I’m hungry.
Of course sometimes I’m feeding my belly. I know how I feel when I’m hungry. I get HANGRY. I become faint, lightheaded, uncaring, unmotivated. Hangry.
However, I haven’t been genuinely hungry too often lately. Truthfully, I’ve had more feelings of uncomfortable fullness lately than I have had of hunger. You know that feeling when you eat too much, too late, too heavy, and you roll out of bed the next morning feeling like you’ve already eaten breakfast?
That’s been me. Full. FANGRY.
What am I feeding?
In light of counting calories lately, I tend to lean on this factor as a reason for why I’m overfeeding myself. Am I rebelling against calorie counting? Have I put myself into a ‘diet mentality’, simply by keeping track of what I’m eating? I’m definitely not restricting (see aforementioned “FANGRY” reference), and I’m logging everything I eat. However, I do notice that logging everything I eat is causing me to feel a twinge of guilt about the “bad” things that I put in my mouth.
I thought that “Bad” was a word that I learned to disassociate from food.
I haven’t been shamelessly partaking in my beloved cinnamon bears on occasion like I did before. I still eat them, but it’s not as fun anymore.
But, who am I kidding…it’s been a long time since I’ve subscribed to the words “on occasion” and “in moderation” when it comes to food. At some point along this 4-year-old intuitive eating journey of mine, I’ve regained (part of) my “all or nothing” mentality.
Well…I already have this (insert “bad” food here) in the house, I might as well just finish it now so that I can save myself from it tomorrow!
What?
Who am I?
At what point did this evil-twin-disordered-eater of mine move back in? I was reformed! I was healed! I had it all figured out!
Guess what?
I don’t.
(cue shoulder shrug from this girl)
I don’t know what the answer is, but I do know that there is no magic cure for disordered eating. In reminiscing back to the point in my existence when I felt the most “whole” or “healed”, I am transported to some time around the third month of my treatment.
I was aglow with the newness of health. That stabbing pain in my rib was gone. I was healthy. I had good hair. I had come to terms with the fact that my marriage was a sham, and I was moving on. I was in control of my life.
I had lost 8 pounds.
I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t happy about losing those 8 pounds. I would be lying if I told you that it didn’t make me feel prettier, more likable, and like more of a ‘complete package’.
I would also be lying if I said that I had TRIED to lose those 8 pounds. I didn’t. I was eating well. I was working out a reasonable amount. It is no surprise that in terms of my size at that time, a loss of 8 pounds was not excessive, and I would venture to say that it was probably my ideal place. I felt and looked good, and I was not constantly hungry (mentally or physically).
The aforementioned judgment regarding my “ideal place” has nothing to do with the number on the scale. I was treating myself well. I was feeding myself the amount of food that my body needed.
It was at that point in my treatment that I realized that all of my years spent cyclically starving myself, then binging and purging until my heart fluttered and my fingers went numb were a complete waste of time. I would lose weight when (and if) I felt that I deserved it.
After all, I had just lost 8 pounds on accident, right?
Today?
I can’t remember what that feels like.
I know that when I’m being mindful and intuitive, my body will lead me to where it should be. Maybe that doesn’t equate to an 8 pound weight loss at this point in my life (or any weight loss at all), but it will certainly lead to less “hunger”.
I need to get back to that place, for the sake of (and in spite of) myself.
