I am just going to say it...I don't have a healthy relationship with food. It is one that leaves me feeling defeated at times. It is one that sends fear through my body when I realize that I need to eat more to reach my daily calorie count. Plain and simple...food scares me.
Now, to be fair, it wasn't always this way. At least I wasn't always scared of food. Food has always manipulated and controlled my life. But I was content with that relationship. Even if it was unhealthy. I didn't care. I was an addict. i didn't care as the weight piled on. I didn't care that my clothes didn't fit. All I cared about was my next "fix".
Then I became aware. I realized what I was doing. I realized that my food addiction was slowly killing me. It was robbing me of my time with my children, my husband. My life.
I started working harder. Eating less. Drastically cutting my calorie intake. By a lot. The first 7 pounds flew off. Then it was a one pound loss. Still good...at least it wasn't a gain.
Then, this week, after a pulled muscle and a boot camp class that had me questioning my sanity, I gained. Gained. All that hard work was for nothing.
I emailed my personal trainer (who, by the way is a godsend for putting up with my neurotic ways) "What the hell am I doing wrong?" His response? I needed to eat more calories...of the good stuff. Then I wouldn't be tempted to over eat. There are times that I am honestly not aware that I am eating.
That scared the hell out of me. He wants me to eat more? In my mind, that is only a few hundred calories off of where I was before...you know, when I gained all that weight.
The thought of eating that much seriously send me in to a mini anxiety attack.
That is how much of a control food seems to have on my life. Every day is a battle. Each one tougher then the one that preceeded it. This is just as much, if not more, of a mental battle as a physical one.
At least, I am at the point where I can admit that I don't have a healthy relationship with food. Now, I just have to focus on making it better.