Thoughts and Acceptance

I have a lot of Thoughts.

Some of them can't be shared here-this is the internet after all-and that sucks a bit because those are the ones I want to get out the most.

I've been hand writing them instead. It helps.

I'm sitting outside on my deck listening to the birds and the waterfall pond thingy and trying to be peaceful, but the Thoughts are yelling.

This new way of eating/lifestyle change is probably immensely boring for anyone else. I feel like it consumes everything I do and that includes conversation with others.

"Want to have some of this?"
"Are there carbs or sugar in it?"
"Yeah..."  Or more often, "Umm, I don't know?" In which case I usually grab the item, scan the ingredient panel and sigh.
"Can't eat it."

I can't help it. This is me now I guess.

I flip over packages for literally everything and look at the carb content. If the carbs are low, I check the sugar. If the sugar is low, I look for sugar alcohol because those fuckers are usually going to mean a night on the toilet. Then I check again because maybe the sugar free whatever is suddenly worth it.

It's not. Nothing sugar free is good for you. It's full of chemicals that freak out your digestive track and leave a weird taste in your mouth. I know this and yet I eat it anyway.

Nothing with sugar is good for you. Or carbohydrates. The carbs turn to sugar and the sugar gets in your blood and your pancreas wigs out and starts yelling about insulin and then your kidneys get all stressed....

I can't enjoy food like I used to. The Thoughts are there to say things like, "Do you want diabetes? You remember your mom died from that, right?"

I've been trying so hard this last month. I went cold turkey on everything delicious. I lowered my glucose, blood pressure and weight. Can you tell by looking at me? No. So I tell you because my self esteem sucks and I need the fucking acknowledgement.

I can't help it. This is me now I guess.

The scale says I've lost weight. I touch my chin and it feels like there might be less of one. I turn to back out of a parking space and it doesn't feel like I'm going to pull something. I don't hurt as much in general and I'm sleeping better.

I know that things are changing but it doesn't feel the way I want it to look.

The Thoughts tell me that even if I was a healthy weight I'd still be mentally fucked up. They're right. That shit was here first. "You'll still have abandonment issues even if you can cross your legs comfortably," they remind me.

Sometimes the Thoughts play with PMS and then things get really interesting. I swear to god my life is reading food labels and work and dealing with emotional bullshit.

My body goes through the gauntlet of premenstrual symptoms. One day, I'm raging pissed at anything. Another day I cry at Criminal Minds. Yet another day I battle cravings of all things delicious. And there's 'bloat day'. And 'my clothes suck and nothing fits day'. And 'why do the cats hate me day?

I am rationally irrational. I mean, it makes sense. I understand what is happening to my body and I accept the insanity.

I can't help it. This is me now I guess.


It's probably intensely boring for anyone else.