My train has gotten bumped off the rails slightly and my anxiety level is higher than it has been lately. Sadly, I've been using food to help self-soothe when I'm rattled and this is not helping my 2013 goal of dropping 40 pounds. I start off the day strong; I use my weight tracker app and log my breakfast, lunch and snacks, sometimes even noting the time I eat or whether or not I'm PMS'ing or actually paying my monthly bill. Then, the evening comes. As they say on Game of Thrones, "The night is dark and full of terrors" and instead of my praying to anyone for help, I run to the god of chips and ice cream to settle my spirit.
Something about the world quieting down and moving into night actually agitates me insanely. It's not a fear of the dark or being attacked in my sleep, either by humans or zombies. It's the fear of the next day, of the hours of night running out into morning and having to put on my work face and report for duty.
I don't have a bad job at all. The position I'm in pays more than any other job I've ever had, I have a decent benefit package, and I'm respected by my superiors and my peers. (Okay, at this point I realize I'm being a whiny little shit.) I've found lately that whatever mojo I had in previous jobs hasn't carried over into this new one. I'm not sure how to shine brighter than I do. I feel like my brain doesn't work the way it should to excel at this job and I'm not particularly certain how to make that happen. That's when the copious amounts of food come in.
The food lies to me and tells me that everything's ok; I'm going to keep climbing the ladder, I'm going to continue to make more money to provide for myself, and most importantly, I'm going to find what it is that fulfills me and provides for me so that the bulk of my day is spent in satisfaction and not drudgery. I don't believe it though because at the same time that it's lying to me, I'm berating myself for not finding something better to do with my time or a better way to cope with my issues. That's what makes me feel like shit--that I'm disappointing myself because I know I can do better.
Maybe that's really why I'm writing here. I'm trying to find something more productive to do with myself, I'm trying to open my mind up, I'm trying not to feel like a waste. Fast food cheeseburgers don't take my anxiety away, but they do help me get into a food-induced guilt trip. That guilt trip tears me down so that I'm more anxious and feel more like shit, so I eat food, feel more anxious and more like shit, infinity.
I don't want that anymore, though. For a while, I was living without it and living well. I'm not sure where I lost the plot, but I did, and I have to send some hounds out to find it again. If not for my figure, for my peace of mind.
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