Not that kind. Although I do.
Like that. And actually, now that I think about it, a little like this.
Painful admission. I’ve been slipping. No huge steps backward, just little ones here and there. Skipping WW this morning because I didn’t think the scale would be kind. Skipping running today even though my hip is feeling a lot better and I totally could have. Snacking when I’m not really hungry the last few weeks.
It is a slippery slope. I can see it happening. I’m feeling less than strong. I’m feeling vulnerable. I’m nervous about my race next weekend because I’m not where I wanted to be for that.
So, I take a day off. Or two. Or five. I tell myself that I need a break. Deserve one, even. I’ve worked so hard and come so far, surely I’ve earned this. Right??
I walk the whole race instead of just seeing how much I can do and pushing myself to do a little bit more. I tell myself I’ve got this diet thing wired, I don’t need meeting and points and measuring.
… I’m right here.
Crazy sounding? Yes. Still true?
Yes. I know; I’ve been here before.
I forget sometimes that the patterns of behavior that I’ve had for years don’t go away overnight. Shit, maybe they never go away at all. Maybe I just have to learn to manage them.
To all the people who told me it was okay to take the day off, to relax, that I didn’t have to be hyper-vigilant every day - God, I love you guys. I know where what you are saying comes from. You know I tend to be too hard on myself. You know I view things in black and white. You know I actively seek approval from people to validate my choices. You know me.
But, I know me better.
I’m not ready to relax. I’m not ready to let my guard down. I know that taking breaks is important and necessary and I WILL get to the place where I’m okay with doing just that.
I’m not there yet.
If I’d woken up today and decided I felt like taking a day to not run and ease up on the restrictions I’ve put on myself for a day, that would have been one thing. But, I didn’t.
I woke up tired and mopey. I weighed myself four times to get an idea what I was going to see at Weight Watchers. It would have been up. Not a lot, less than a pound, but up nonetheless. I decided not to go. I considered running, but I am running tomorrow and blah, blah, excuse, excuse, so I curled up on the couch and took a nap.
I hate admitting stuff like this.
So, while I very much appreciate having people that love me enough to tell me it’s okay to let up on myself, just a little, I’m going to ignore their advice. Not because it’s bad advice; it’s not. It’s good advice. It’s advice that I’ll be ready for a some point. But for today, I looked inside and reminded myself of this.