Nope, not a runner’s “wall.” I’m talking about a behavioral wall. A wall that underneath the behavior is really an emotional and mental wall.
I have hit this wall before.
I lost 10 pounds. Woo! My sweaters aren’t tight in the arms anymore, which is a HUGE plus, since most of my winter wardrobe consists of said sweaters, which I wouldn’t wear tight, and which I didn’t have money to replace. I also feel better. I’m getting arm muscles! Even better!
But then I just . . . stopped.
I thought maybe I needed a week off the diet and the journaling. I thought that maybe I needed a week off from the whole damn thing, so I skipped 4 of my 5 gym days. And I came back the next week feeling better, ready to tackle it all over again.
That lasted approximately 3 days. And then I just . . . stopped.
I look at that little food journal, and I just don’t give a damn. I look at my chicken for lunch and then go to the cafeteria and order mac’n’cheese (to be fair, the cafeteria at Disney does a PHENOMENAL mac’n’cheese, and I’m a serious snob about mac’n’cheese in general). I drink 3 glasses of wine and eat an entire wedge of bleu cheese with crackers for dinner. And some olives.
I write it all down, and I see that the numbers are not going in the right direction. I just don’t care.
I haven’t been going to the gym. I’m just so freakin’ EXHAUSTED, even though there isn’t really any reason for it. I’m sleeping a lot. I even started taking naps on my lunch hour and I NEVER do that.
I read somewhere that if someone has gained weight for emotional reasons, that as they lose weight, they’ll hit certain weights that are associated in their psyches with certain events. In other words, if you were assaulted when you weighed 150, and then gained 20 pounds, and now you’re losing it, when you get to 150, you’ll have to process that assault – because you didn’t really process it before. You just covered it up (literally) with more weight.
In the past, I’ve found that sometimes that theory holds true for me, and sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s true often enough that when I hit this point of NOT CARING – when that not caring isn’t laissez-faire, but has some weird determination behind it – I usually think about what was going on when I was last at that weight.
Last year about this time, I was this weight. Last year about this time the guy I was dating – the guy who literally weeks before was talking about long-term stuff – dumped me.
In the end he apologized, admitted that he straight-up acted like a jerk and did his best to make amends. And believe it or not, we’re still friends. (Mostly because that action was SO out of character for him. He wasn’t – and isn’t – generally a jerk, which in some weird way made it hurt even more at the time.)
And I find as I write this that the hurt is still there, somehow still sort of fresh, more than a year later. So I wonder if the NOT CARING is really a resistance to letting go of that hurt. I wonder if the weight I’m at right here is a protective mechanism, somehow. Because this feeling of not caring has a determined, entrenched sort of feeling to it. Does that make sense? As though there were a “man behind the curtain” saying, “WE DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE FOOD PLAN, DAMMIT. HAVE. SOME. MAC. ‘N’. CHEESE.” It’s different from a craving or a DESIRE for the food. It’s somehow deliberately mindless.
But at the same time, I’m TIRED of replaying the boyfriend drama. I’ve been there, done that, found the good in it, figured out what my lesson was, blah, blah, blah. And I keep thinking that going back to it is like picking at an old wound: it’s scarred over, but if you pick at it long enough, you open it back up. Which would sort of defeat the WHOLE PURPOSE, you know? On the other hand, how do you know the difference between hiding from something and re-opening it? That’s the sticking place for me. I don’t want to open something that I’ve closed, but neither do I want to continue to hide from it (if that’s what I’ve done). How to tell, how to tell . . .
Charlotte’s Experiment this month is to meditate. I jumped right on board, but have not done it ONCE. I wonder if this is part of why? Sometimes when I meditate I resolve emotional shit a lot faster. And fittingly, it’s when I have the most emotional shit going on (that I’m trying to ignore), that I most assiduously avoid meditating. I DON’T WANT TO, I CAN’T HEAR YOU, LALALA . . .
So I’ve hit the wall. I’ve hit this wall before, though, and I’m TIRED of hitting this wall. So I have to do something different this time. Maybe I’ll start with meditation. (Especially since I really DON’T WANT to. That’s usually my indication that something is EXACTLY the right thing to do.)