So, as I mentioned in my last post, I had really gone off the rails with my weight loss efforts. I decided to give it up altogether for a few days and then come back to it starting today, a Monday, the first. My thinking was that I had not given myself full permission to eat to my heart's (belly's?) content for a couple years. Even when I gave myself the mental nod to eat something that was not part of my weight loss efforts, it was always with a given clause. Such as "go ahead and eat the chocolate cake, but you'll have to workout extra or cut way back on your calories the rest of the day." Which I would usually not do. So, there was still a sense of failing even when I gave myself permission to indulge. Therefore, I decided to completely let myself off the hook for a few days. I ate candy, fast food, pie and drank margaritas with abandon. I even had a full-calorie soda. I ate when I felt hungry or felt like eating. I didn't count calories, exercise or wear my bodybugg. Basically, I behaved as I had for the years preceding my decision to lose weight...the years during which I was gaining weight. And you know what I decided? It wasn't all that great. I liked that I didn't have to count calories or try to restrain my culinary desires, but most of the time the foods I ate weren't nearly as satisfying as I had thought they would be. I wasn't on a blissful cloud of edible contentment. I didn't walk around feeling happy and satisfied because my belly was constantly full. I felt worried (about the amount of weight I was probably gaining), disappointed (that all the treats I had been denying myself didn't taste nearly as good when I gave myself complete freedom to eat them), sick (from eating too much and of the wrong things), tired (from lack of exercise), achey (in my back from not doing my pilates) and uncomfortable (because my pants were too snug around my waist). In fact, I also had a constant sense of discontent because what I had thought would happen, that I could finally satisfy all the cravings I'd been carrying around, didn't happen. I realized the food did NOT satisfy this inner sense of something missing. I was confusing a desire for whatever it is that is making me feel ill-content with my life with a desire for food. I still don't know why I constantly feel a underlying sense of unhappiness, but I do know that it isn't because I'm denying myself foods I want to eat.
I kinda feel like I should be slapping my forehead and saying "duh!" I mean, I realized at one time that I was using food as a salve for my unhappiness and that it wasn't working (because I was still unhappy when I was fat) and in fact made me more unhappy. Yep, I remember that now. I just don't know why I'm unhappy. Is it because of the expectations that I place on myself, which I never seem to fulfill? I recently read an article about how people who allow themselves to make mistakes, who are more laidback and less detail-oriented, are happier people. They may not be as "successful" as defined by the general populace, and they may not make great employees, but they tend to be more satisfied with life. They have lower expectations, of themselves, those around them and their "success."
Or maybe that's barking up the wrong tree...
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