When the going gets tough...

...the tough eat spinach.

An emotional response to this whole 30 thing.

One can't underestimate the emotional hold of eating. Perhaps it doesn't affect you. I doubt it. At least an alcoholic or drug addict has the tiniest ray of hope that they can eradicate the offending substance from their lives and move into the land of healthy. I don't have that hope. I have to eat. I have to face food at least three times a day and make choices it about all in between. Of course, I'm hyper-focused right now, but if I don't hyper-focus, then I end up at Cookout for a burger and fries. If I pretend it's not there, I eat what makes me happy. If I hyper-focus though, I have to DEAL with what comes up.

I'm a little manic today. My much-hoped-for blueberry breakfast was less than stellar. I've been planning it since Friday, and just today had the chance to make it. And now, I will eat it for the next three days because I made it, it's suitable, and I don't want to waste.
I'm grieving. Seriously, grieving. I lived in the first step: denial and isolation for many years. In denial that my situation is something I can control...even if I kinda believe it in my head, my actions don't show it. Isolation is in my head, but something I struggle with every day. Feeling not good enough, not pretty enough, not anything enough and all because I can't seem to control what I put in my mouth. While all around, the super-fit and disciplined seem to have it all together.

Anger and bargaining almost go hand in hand right now. I'm angry that I have to care about all this. I'm angry that my body is mad at me. I'm angry that I can't be a tiny, healthy person without trying. And angry at myself that it's this hard. And bargaining...maybe if I just add a salad to every meal? What if I just drink veggie-fruit smoothies most of the time? I tell myself it's too much to think about. Everything I read tells me something different. Acrylamides are going to kill me. Gluten is wreaking havoc on my blood sugar and intestines. Dairy causes bloating and is only best for baby cows. Brussel sprouts forever! So I bargain, if you can't sort out what is good for you and not good for you, eat what makes you happy, right? Would I trade a year of life for potato chips? When you put it that way, it sounds terrible. Then you have to factor in quality of life. Medication, chronic pain...which leads us to our fourth step of grieving....depression.

(are we having fun yet?) Depression in non-food terms is the feeling of being overwhelmed, sometimes to the point of emotional paralysis. As if ocean waves just keep coming at you and you are unable to get up and get down the beach. You just sit there and let them roll over you, hoping you don't drown and hoping someone notices you and helps.

And I'm back to the I HATE FOOD. I HATE IT. I HATE THINKING ABOUT IT. I HATE HOPING FOR DIFFERENT RESULTS. I HATE BEING FAT. I HATE COMPARING MYSELF TO HEALTHY PEOPLE. I HATE FOOD.

I hate that it is so polarizing. I hate that some pizza really does make me feel better. What's so wrong about that? Everything, say the experts. We shouldn't let food control us emotionally. Of course not. But it does. When do you ever get the acceptance point? When will I not want to eat a turkey sub and eggplant parmesan? I cannot imagine that day.

So, today. I'm mad at food. I'm mad at food marketers, like those low-fat yogurt people who make you think they're making health food. I'm mad at Italian people for everything they've ever made except salami. I'm really mad at Mexican people who gave us chips and salsa with cheese dip. I'm mad at fast food for being fast and accessible and finger-lickin' good. I'm mad at America for being so rich that we can jack with our food sources, strip the nutrition out of everything and sell it for profit. I'm mad. I'm mad that I want to eat junk.

Clearly, I have some work to do. But, after reading lots of varying opinions about this eating plan and that eating plan this morning, I'm just overwhelmed.

What I know: eliminating sugar and processed foods from my diet is good. Yes and amen.
What I'm trying to know: does my body like dairy and grain? Or can I live without it?
What I don't want to know: that I can never eat pizza again because it will make me sick.
What I also know: fruits and vegetables are healthy. I need them. This plan is helping me with that.
What I don't have to know now: On October 17 (roughly the end of 40 days), I can make new decisions based on the information I glean. Hopefully, with less emotional dependency on food. I don't have to decide TODAY how I will eat FOREVER. Baby steps.

Whew. OK. Just writing that all out makes me feel less manic. For lunch, I was really, really hungry. I drove home, knowing that there are TWELVE fast-food restaurants in the four miles between my work and home. There was no one to see me "do it." I could eat whatever I wanted and satisfy my wild cravings. But that is just like any other day in my life, right? I always have the choice. I might have made two slices of bacon to go with my giant spinach, apple, walnut salad. And the bacon was emotional today. But I didn't bust out the tortilla chips to have with Jerod's fresh salsa (oh the agony) or eat any of the salt and pepper potato chips in the pantry (it would have been ALL, let's face it). I didn't because I'm taking baby steps. That's all I can do. So, I'm still on plan. I'm less sane. But on plan.