Got through the holiday without food abuse. That is a good thing. It wasn't as easy as I would have liked to believe. It was possible only because there was nothing around the house to pick up during any less guarded moments. There were times when I was over tired, which makes me irrational around food. It was a good thing there was no ice cream, pies or corn pudding in the house. My daughter bought two Ritter candy bars yesterday and when she went to show me the things she bought and I saw what was coming out of the bag, I closed my eyes, stuck my fingers in my ears and started chanting 'blablablablabla." She got the hint and put them away. I know where she keeps them but I do not eat other people's food so they are safe . . . so far.
Today I found myself nursing a resentment from the past. I know you have heard that resentment is like taking poison and hoping the other person dies. That tells me I do not have the false luxury of holding on to a resentment. There is no positive value in it. It will always lead me back to the weapons I use to destroy my happiness, health and sanity- the wrong foods. This subject is relevant to the ongoing task of keeping the pounds off because holding a resentment is the same as keeping my addictive foods on hand 'just in case' someone else wants to eat them. It is setting the scene for calamity.
|Swearing is not a sign of emotional|
maturity but occasionally serves as
a satisfying mode of expression.
In today's travel to Resentmentland I recalled an incident that occurred 21 years ago; how I was verbally mistreated by someone else. It brought up all the anger, shame, hurt and fear that go with many resentments - feelings I pushed away 21 years ago, telling myself the abuse could be excused by the emotional trauma we were all going through at that time. I never returned to deal with those feeling adequately and today, alone in my car, I started 'telling' this person "f*ck you."
It is not a good sign when I have a conversation with someone who is not in the room or even in the same state. I doubt he felt my resentment 1300 miles away. Did I feel better after cursing out the empty space in my car? I did not. I don't like it that nine years after I lost my first pound I still have to work my mental ass off to keep from finding it or its many friends.
So today I will be spending some private time examining why this is bothering me 21 years later and what I need to do to be gentle and forgiving of myself without self-inflicting edible poison on my body.