The other day I ate some Riese's Pieces. And by some I mean half the bag. Not one of those little itty bitty bags either. Half a BAG. Let's just say I had a bad day. I had a lot of people at my workplace - who are very vocal - on my case because they did not agree with a decision that had been made. So my day was pretty much hell.
I tried not to let it show at work, but when I left the office I called the SO and talked to him for a few minutes. Now, he was still at work so he had to cut the conversation shorter (I probably would have talked for hours anyway) than I would have liked and while I was sad I wasn't mad at him or anything. I understood. He was at work. Anyway, so I get home and then a couple of tears came. Rather than just cry I hopped into bed, popped in "Funny People," which I've wanted to watch since it came on Netflix last week and grabbed some Rieces Pieces bought the previous day in a fit of happiness and sat down to a munch fest.
I poured out about half a portion size and munched on that. Then, because I wanted to eat more I went and got a class of water. I wanted something to do with my mouth so I wouldn't put more of those pieces of peanut butter goodness into my face again. I drank some water. Then I had another half portion. Then some water. The cycle continued. I stopped every now and then, trying to reason with myself, trying to pry my hand away from the bag. At one time I threw it on the floor. Pretty soon I went back and got it. Then they were gone. And I wasn't any happier.
The movie was done. My 'treat' was gone and now it was time for me to face what had happened that day. To add to this already long blog what happened was that I belong to a committee at work that uses funds from our vending machines to sponsor activities or events at the company. We put on food days every month, last year we got people shirts. We have grill outs, give prizes and we used to sponsor athletic teams. I say used to because at our annual - everyone from the building is invited - meeting it was brought up that the sports teams we sponsor cost $1,000 dollars a year. Now, normally we spend about $200-$250 for an event for the ENTIRE BUILDING, about 100 people. Now, approximately 25 people (or less) were eating up 1/3 of what we paid out in an entire year. While we feel sports are worthwhile, it was decided that for the small amount of people that were benefiting, and because it seemed like only one section of the entire building was even invited to be a part of these teams (including me, I'm on our volleyball and softball teams) it wasn't necessarily good stewardship to continue to fund these teams 100%. The motion was raised, it was voted on, and it carried. We sent out an e-mail the following day saying that this would be carried out. And then oh, that's when the drama started.
So, onto my notsohealthy eating. Yes people were mad. Were they mad at me? Maybe a little. Were they mad at what had happened? Yes. Would they get over it? Probably. Did I still believe I had made the best choice and would I do it again? Yes. This is what I should have done in the first place: Thought through what had happened and if it was still worth it to me. I still feel I did what I thought was best for the committee and for the rest of the people in our building. My lack of trust in myself basically led to me binging.
Now come the shame and the tears. So the SO came home and we talked, we watched some TV, we were just chilling together. Then came the topic of supper. Chicken. Ok. chicken to go with the eggplant we had leftover from the night before. Barbecue chicken? Then I told the SO that I didn't really feel like barbecue chicken because my stomach was slightly upset due to all the rieces pieces I had eaten. "That's silly," he said. I started crying.
I knew it was silly. I know I shouldn't eat to try to get through my problems and I've been trying so hard, and doing so well. I know I shouldn't run to food for a solution, that I should work through it so I can be healthy. I know I was wrong for binging like I did. I know. I know. I know. I also know the SO didn't say it to be mean. He didn't say it to make me sad. He said it because he was thinking it was silly that I pushed myself to eat until I was so full that I didn't feel good. I explained that I didn't push myself to the point of gorging. I ate, and then because of all the sugar (and the fact that I'm not used to eating like that anymore) I felt a little ill. And he told me not to beat myself up.
He went on to tell me that I didn't eat like that any more. Sure I had something here or something there if I wanted a sweet, but I worked it into my calories. I didn't sit down and eat a whole pan (or two) of monster cookies anymore. It's not like I polished off a whole package of oreos (I did that one time too) and it's not like this was a habit. But I cried anyway because I felt helpless. I cried because I couldn't stop myself from reaching for that candy again and again and again. I cried because I didn't want to be like this again. I didn't want food to be my all. To be my end all. I wanted to believe my life was different now.
I cried because of the shame that rose in me when I was trying to tell someone else that chocolate and peanut butter was more important to me at that moment in time than my own physical and mental health. I got up, went into the bathroom and cried some more in private. How could I explain my shame to a man who didn't have the same issues I did? He understands what I feel, he understands and fully supports what I'm trying to do, but how could I make him understand the pain I was feeling? I went on with our evening without trying. I made supper, we talked some more, we watched our show on TV (GO LOST!) and we made it through the night. He didn't bug me, he didn't push me. He knew I just needed some time to sort some things out in my mind.
I made it through my binge, and now I think that the SO may have understood me more than I was understanding him. I don't live that way anymore. I don't normally binge. I've gained so much health and lost many pounds and my life is different. One setback, one bad does does not define my health and it does not undermine all the good choices I have made since choosing health. It's just a day. It's just candy. I have so many days and weeks and years in front of me to continue making great choices, and 500 calories from Rieces Pieces are not going to destroy all I've accomplished.
There will be days I cry. There will be days I turn to chocolate for support and find out all it does is melt away. But this does not define me. The choices I made will continue to define me, and those choices will be for my health.