It may not always seem like it, but I try to keep this blog strictly focused on my experience with weight loss and getting healthy, not on my other personal experiences (unless they pertinently intersect). I’ve been a little absent from the blog circuit the last two weeks because I’ve been dealing with a complicated situation at work that has taken up a lot of my energy and brain space, and as a result, I really haven’t had the drive to write about the great un-fattening. I’m getting a better handle on things now, and I think I have a pertinent intersection to exploit here.
Before I drag you there, though, I’ll cut to the chase: I’m still dealing, and it’s not always pretty or perfect, but I am 100% still on the wagon. Full disclosure: I had three extra pieces of chocolate yesterday. *shrugs* That was my only unplanned transgression throughout this entire ordeal, and I’ve been getting my burn on all the while, so I’m gonna go ahead and not berate myself over a few hundred extra — and, might I add, delicious — calories. As someone who would have previously gone hog wild and capitulated to the pressure by buying up the entire post-Valentine’s Day candy clearance aisle at the CVS down the street, I’m gonna call three extra pieces of chocolate a total NON-event. I’m not kidding, guys. I feel about chocolate the way Oprah feels about bread. Three pieces in one night, instead of a bag of chocolate every night, ain’t no thing.
Now, on to the part where I’m somehow keeping myself from cracking.
I’ve made previous references in this blog to the hell that was January of 2015. What I’m going through professionally right now is not comparable in terms of the events, but it gets damn close in terms of the pressure. The big difference between last January and this February is that, after months of making myself into a better sharer of my struggles, I want to talk about it. The trouble with that is that there are limits on being able to talk about it for practical reasons, especially with people at work. The rest of the trouble is that talking about work with people who don’t work with you is a REEEEEEAL BORE for them. Honestly, I’m a pretty good conversationalist and I care deeply about my loved ones, but sometimes when they start discussing their job woes with me, I can feel my eyes start to glaze over and I have to make an effort to stay invested in the conversation. A person who doesn’t work with you is just never going to be able to relate to or share your level of outrage, frustration, gossipy awe, etc., because they aren’t in the game with you. I know that rationally, and even as I’m reminding myself of those facts, I find myself bummed that the handful of people I’ve shared details with outside of work haven’t responded to my in-person dramatizations, scandalized e-mails, or heavily punctuated texts in a way that meets my satisfaction. I keep it to myself and it eats away at me; I share it with others and it turns out not to be that constructive (even if it does mitigate some of the stress). What’s a girl to do?
Move. That’s what.
Last Thursday, I had a full-on breakdown. It involved a type of crying I haven’t done in so long that I can’t remember, the corner of a dark room, and a call to my parents. I walked my ass to the gym after work, determined to get my control back, and I punished that elliptical. Steps, check.
On Sunday, I had a jam-packed day of social commitments, starting from before the gym opened and lasting through after it closed — damn you, restricted weekend hours! To ensure that I got all my steps in, I walked 6 miles to my friend’s house in the morning so we could start the day together. Steps exceeded before 9 AM.
Yesterday and the day before, we had monsoon-level rain storms. On Tuesday, I went to the gym, anyway. Yesterday, I saw a break in the downpour in the early afternoon and repurposed my lunch hour to an hour of walking in long circles around a park near my office. I made steps both days.
I’m still on my perfect streak with hitting my daily steps goals for February. I refuse to be stopped. This is the real test, right? What am I made of?
I’m made of the will to succeed. I will NOT let work derail me. Not this time.
I’ve done my best thinking about this whole situation during my long walks or runs. I am so thankful to the me of last year for deciding to change my life. If I were still that same person, before taking the literal steps that turned it all around, I wouldn’t be able to handle this. Even now, I have a whole list of excuses available to me to backslide and stuff my face with sugar: I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m confused. I’m frustrated. I’m on my period. (Not sorry that you know that. Women menstruate. Then they talk about it. Be a grownup and get over it.) The difference is, I’m finding that I actually don’t want to eat to feel better. I want to move. Moving to relieve stress is at least productive. Eating to relieve stress is opening a door to the past that is better left cemented shut.
Anyway, there are a few people who read this who have reached out to make sure I’m OK because I’ve been conspicuously and uncharacteristically quiet on my blog and on Diet Bet. Thank you so much for your concern. I sincerely appreciate it, and I’m touched by your messages. I am OK. Really. I may be a little inactive for a bit longer on the internet, but I promise you, I am not being inactive anywhere else.