I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about what I’ve been going through the last couple of weeks. I’m still trying to figure out where my mind was going with some of the decisions I was making. What I can tell you (because this is about being honest right) is that I had stopped making healthy choices in the food I was consuming (and simultaneously working out too much). I don’t mean I was binging on foods full of calories with ingredients I can’t pronounce. I mean I stopped eating. Literally. I was getting calories in but in unhealthy amounts.
At the end of March I weighed 157 pounds.
Less than three weeks later I weighed 150 pounds.
(I would have kept going)
I don’t know why I started to push food away. I do know that there are certain behaviors that were fueling my desire to not eat food. One of them being challenging myself to go longer durations before eating. First it was an hour after I left gym, then it was challenging myself to go two hours after leaving the gym before eating. Three hours followed close behind until I was trying to go up to four hours. It was to keep my panic in check. It was a good plan to work through the panic but it was poorly planned and executed.
Another behavior was throwing food away. In the beginning the #100daychipquest challenge was set forth to help me understand that no matter where I was I had access to food. Throwing it away was like telling the panic it didn’t have a place in my life anymore and over the past 29 days it was doing exactly what I was hoping…dissapating the panic.
It was also taking away necessary calories.
As time went on, the amount of food I was packing for the day was getting smaller.
But the food I was throwing away was staying the same.
The final behavior is my relationship with the scale. It is unhealthy. I weigh myself multiple times a day…when I say multiple I mean double-digit amounts. Upwards to 15 a day. I don’t know why. A fear of gaining: maybe. A desire to keep losing: maybe. Habit: maybe…whatever the reason, it’s not a good enough one to justify what I was doing…
Not eating enough over the last couple of weeks has left my body weak. I don’t look healthy. I don’t feel healthy. I am not healthy. I can’t complete a workout without getting light-headed. I’ve had to stop doing whatever activity I was doing multiple times because I’m on the verge of passing out. My heart rate is up. My stomach hurts all the time. Eating is painful (emotionally). I don’t want to chew. I don’t want to swallow. I don’t want eat.
The reason I am writing this post is because over the course of the last couple of days, someone in my life came forward and called me on my shit. At some point in our conversations she asked me the following question: “If I was told I had to eat more in order to keep working out would I?”…I answered honestly: No.
She told me I had two choices – I could either go down the road to living healthy in all aspects of my life or I could go down the road of not living healthy. That I needed to choose. You’d think the choice would be easy but again let me be absolutely honest: I didn’t know at that moment of being asked where I wanted to go. I was thinking like an addict and if you’ve ever been one you know we don’t make the best choices…Before I could answer she sent the following text:
“I’m only going to hold your hand and walk with you down the road to strength and health. I can’t stand by you if you choose the other direction“
Being on the receiving end of tough love is hard.
But it’s all I needed.
I’m giving up the #100daychipquest as soon as this posts to my blog. I thought about just giving up the throwing away food portion of the challenge but decided that right now I shouldn’t be involved with any challenges. I have other things I need to focus on in order to get my mind right and more importantly get my body back to being healthy.
I need to eat.
I need to eat often.
The other thing I’ve done is given up my scale. I didn’t put it somewhere in the house or give it to my husband to hide. I gave it away. When I walked into Godfather’s gym yesterday morning I did so with scale in hand. The only thing I can liken it too was when I had to give up my paraphernalia when I was getting clean. This morning when I woke up I stood where my scale would normally be and cried. I’ve already thought about sneaking off to my local Fred Meyer store and weighing myself in the bath department (Hello my name is Tara and I am an addict…).
Not only did my friend call me out on my shit and make boundaries for her own emotional well being, so did Godfather. He said if I continued down this unhealthy path, then the trainings would discontinue. To have two of the most important people in my life draw that line and stand firmly on one side waiting for me to decide which path I was choosing made the decision pretty easy…
I don’t want to be on this side of unhealthy.
I want to be on their side of healthy.
So that’s where I am today. Figuring out how I got here and figuring out how to not stay here. Loving myself enough to know that while eating right now is difficult it is necessary. Standing in the place where once my scale was and trying through wishful thinking to make it reappear knowing it won’t. Crying and laughing, then quickly going back to crying. Then taking a deep breath and moving on to the best of my ability.
With my friend by my side.