Monday, May 16, 2011

it's monday.

It's Monday.

It's Monday and I don't really have much to say, because my weekend was shot to hell from an IBS flare-up that had me laying and bed and sulking, not because I felt all that bad physically but because I felt emotionally broken again.

For months and months, I built up my confidence, pushed through my anxiety, and made really big leaps in terms of my eating habits. I've been on a relatively low-fat diet for months and had given up sugar for a while; I take probiotics and mulitvitamins every night, eat fruits instead of sugary snacks, and do yoga every morning.

Then Easter came. I allowed myself a break, eating cookies and candy and not feeling guilty for it. Even after that weekend, I kept giving myself reprieves, promising (as always) that I'd get started again tomorrow. Tomorrow never showed up.

In the past two weeks, I had not only been eating poorly but I was also getting cocky. Normally, I make sure to consolidate plans for one or two days a week, because going out means eating even worse and taking medicine, so it's nice to have a few days in between to "recover." Last week? I went out every. single. day. for a full week, just because. Seven days of not eating breakfast, not working out, treating myself to fast food or Starbucks, eating only one healthy meal, spending the night snacking, and overloading on my medicine.

Around Tuesday last week, I could feel my body giving out. The stomach cramps were coming back, I had indigestion when I went to bed, and I was exhausted. I promised that after going to work on Wednesday, I would give it a rest and get back to normal. Usually it just takes a day or two to get back on track after a long stretch of busy days. This time, it's taken four days, and I'm not even feeling back up to snuff yet.

I'm so frustrated with myself and my body. Obviously it's my own fault for giving up completely on my healthy habits and letting everything slide, but it really should not be this bad. I haven't felt like this for months and months. I've had weeks worse than this one and have recovered in a day or two. The fact that I've been taking it easy since Thursday and have still been feeling crummy makes me worry that I made things worse or that something not in my control brought me back to square one.

Square one is a shitty place to be, because square one is where I feel like nothing I'll ever do is going to fix this. And since I worked so hard for six months and one week undid all of that work? That fear of never solving this problem is back in my face, and I really don't like it.