Last night I found myself bored/tired/lonely on the couch, as I do many nights. And I had a giant piece of milk chocolate in front of me, like a big solid hunk of it (don't ask me why) (...okay, it was a chocolate frog, a solid one that I bought from my trip to Harry Potter world at Universal Studio, which I've had in my house for almost 2 months, but something last night told me it was time to go for it), and I gnawed on that thing until it was completely gone. I would set it down and think, "I don't need to be doing this, why am I doing this?" but I could not stop until it was completely gone. Five ounces of chocolate. I know. It makes me want to blurt obscenities. But I really couldn't stop. The thought of stopping just made my brain sort of itch. It's closely related to my anxiety problem. Evening bingeing is going to be the death of me. The chocolate's gone now, and I feel better about THAT, but honest to God. Why??? Sooooo this morning I walked into Weight Watchers. This morning and this afternoon I've been doing a great job. Yesterday was the same. Until the dag blasted evening, when I was just feeling at a loss. It's a cycle, and almost every day, I feel out of control when nighttime hits. I think I need to research Overeaters Anonymous.
I started tracking my food again to rein it in a little bit. I'd given up on tracking and convinced myself I didn't need it, but I really just have to take control in a big way, and that's one thing I know will do it.
I feel a little bit immobilized/crippled in my house. It's a weird form of laziness, I guess? I'll stand in a room and think, I have no idea what to do with myself right now. No idea. I'll look at a mess and just look at it instead of doing anything about it. I am wasting my minutes away thinking about things without actually doing them.
I could exercise. I could fold my three baskets of clean laundry. I could clean out my closets. I could clean out my dressers. I could clean out my car. I could box up clutter to give to Purple Heart. I could rearrange the kitchen counters. I could sort out the tupperware bins on the storage shelves in the basement. I could change the sheets. But I don't LIKE doing any of that stuff.
So I could crochet. I could play ukulele. I could do my finger and toenails. I could take a hot bath (but that would probably require cleaning the tub first, if I want to truly relax). I could meal prep, so I have lunches ready to go for work this week. I could sing or write poems. I could make crafts or sew something. I could write a letter. I could build a D&D character so I have it ready to go when we start playing again. I could even take out a book and sit here on the couch and read. I love doing all that stuff. But no.
I just have an anxious feeling that takes over my brain telling me I'd be happier, and this moment would be easier, if I just found something in the fridge and consumed it. Or popped up a big bowl of popcorn. Or just fixed myself some kind of little snack. ALL DAY.
The hardest part of getting started is getting started, I guess. So I'll go work on that laundry right now. Prying myself up from the couch, and tucking my laptop into the compartment of the coffee table where it lives, will be a good start, but it's such a challenge. It feels like war. Me versus me. I hate this.
But deep breath. Whatever I'm going through right now, I can deal with it. Count your blessings, self. You deserve better. You need to be better. One small step.