Please see the other post from today (below) for some very important realizations I had this weekend. I think they may help a lot of you who struggle with the same issues.
This post is to update what's going on with me from the rest of the weekend.
I had a very rough Sunday, preceded by a semi-tough Saturday. I had the epiphany about not straddling the fence of dysfunction Saturday morning. It helped me deal with my Friday carb binge. Saturday for dinner we went out to eat at our favorite Japanese hibachi grill restaurant. I had eaten healthfully all day, and knew that the food at the restaurant would be OK, but the stuff they add to the food (butter, salt in soy sauce, MSG) would not be. I knew, but I agreed anyway because both Mark & Sophie wanted to go. I did not eat to the point of being stuffed. I was comfortable, not overly full in anyway. But the sodium and extra carbs from the rice surely took its toll.
Sunday Mark left for the office at 7 am. He took a practice exam over the weekend (3 hours Saturday, 7 hours Sunday). I had decided not to go to church, so the kids and I could have a stay-home day and because I was not up for fielding all the "where's Mark?" questions.
I was extremely hormonal Sunday. I've talked about this before--my mid-cycle hormones are in many ways worse than PMS. I get angry, and feel reckless (like, wanting to listen to Pearl Jam in the car and drive really, really fast), and have a lot of intrusive thoughts. I live inside my head during this time, and have to push a lot of stuff down, because what I feel and think aren't appropriate to share with anyone else. And added to all that, I was feeling quite lonely from very little adult interaction lately.
I resolved that morning, just as I had Saturday morning, to stay on plan. I ate a good breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I took a xanax at 11 am because I was ready to blow up at the kids, and I didn't want to put them or myself through that. I kept busy with dishes, laundry, and cleaning. I read a book. I watched part of Harry Potter with Sophie. We went to Target and got school supplies.
I did not eat my way through the day. At one point, when I went out to get food for dinner for the kids & Mark at Dairy Queen (burgers--I was not up to grilling or fixing anything else for them), I fought and won the battle of "Ice Cream Screaming My Name." I told myself that I would not feel better eating a small cone or a large cone. That no amount of ice cream was going to take away the feelings. That I could feel them and not die. That they were only temporary and would pass as soon as the hormones were through with me.
A little miracle occurred--I believed it. I believed it all, and I didn't get ice cream, and a real sense of peace came over me.
At 5:30 Sophie had a friend call and ask her to see a movie. Mark wanted to take Luke to see Winnie the Pooh, too, so by 7:15 pm the house was mine. I was sleepy from the 11 am xanax and from being on the go all day long. I fell asleep while reading a book for about 30 minutes. I woke up and got up off the couch, and knew I was doomed.
I couldn't go back to sleep, because I had to be available for the kids when they got home. All I wanted was to have the Horrible Day over with. I regretted not having the energy to go running while I had time to myself. I had fought the cravings and the emotions and the feelings all day.
I was tired of fighting.
It was the usual suspects. Carbs, fat, sugar--wrapped up in destructive bags and boxes and cellophane wrappers. 880 calories in five minutes. I knew what I was doing but couldn't stop. I had no control left. I was aware enough that I counted the cost in calories. I stopped when I had enough in my body to soothe the angst; it could have been worse. There was no ice cream involved.
The stash I raided was the "kids' fun food." It will be thrown out tonight when I get home. They ask for it at the store, I cave in, they have ONE serving, I put it away, then I finish it off in times like this. Sabotage. It's senseless and counterproductive.
I woke up late this morning, but ate a healthy breakfast. I cursed the scale, but knew I had to weigh and not bury my head in the sand. My fingers are puffy--I am bloated from Saturday's salt and yesterday's junk.
I will take this weekend and USE IT. I will not hide from it. I will not lie on this blog and pretend that I'm perfect and healed and have it all together. I am far, far from it.
But I'm getting closer. Even when I take a step back, like I did this weekend, I can turn it around and start moving forward again.
I started keeping track of what causes "the afters." I will write a separate post later in the week about what they are, and add to it as I discover them. A big problem I face is this: I don't know what all my "after" triggers are, and I don't know how to deal with them even when I DO know. I know there are things to do to keep me even and healthy, which I am not doing enough of (like running, so I can have endorphins in my brain). Those things are proactive. It's the "reactive" that I need help with.
I have a therapy session next Monday. I meet with the nurse practitioner tonight, and will likely have my med increased (very slow titration up, and probably won't get to useful dose for another 4-6 weeks).
I know that when Mark is through with his test this coming weekend, things will get better. We have both been a hostage to his study time the past few months, which have been very intense and very lonely for us both. Surely I can survive one more week.