It's my anniversary!

I started this blog 12 years ago today! I haven't posted consistently during that time, but it's still interesting (to me) to look back and see what's changed, and what's stayed the same. A few times I've had a rant forming in my brain, a sense of deja vu, and discovered that I had posted about the same issue before. So maybe I have posted consistently, at least as far as themes and ideas are concerned?

Anyway looking back I can honestly say I'm probably in the best shape of my life, in terms of fitness and overall health. Building daily routines—exercise, sleep hygiene—that I can realistically stick to has been huge. Focussing on nutrition generally and especially iron for the last year has been the biggest game changer. Wish I knew 12 years ago what I know now!

This, exactly.

Saw this on Twitter just after I posted this morning. Sums up my anxiety about everything—the feeling of not being allowed or qualified to feel good about myself. 

Happiness is the ultimate crime 

What was it Oscar Wilde said about living well being the best revenge? Maybe that will be my revenge against societal expectations—celebrating my tiny achievements extra loud, and treating myself whenever I decide I deserve it, and maybe even just allowing myself to be happy?

Guilt over a goal achieved

And embarrassment that I let the wellness industry get so far inside my head!

I haven’t been tracking everything every day, because two months of diligence in that department is enough to build the habits I need to maintain. Number one being take your vitamins every day! And meat every day to help build my iron stores. Makes such a huge difference to be properly nourished. I find it makes me more likely to eat less because my body isn’t aching to be nourished. For example, yesterday I made two nikumaki for a portable dinner between running errands and volunteering, but I was sufficiently suffonsified after one.

Nikumaki: meat-wrapped onigiri

Anyway, I’ve been continuing my morning situps, tap dance, riding my bicycle as much as possible, and getting outside for at least a walk around the block every day. And it’s working! I'm down a pound today, just one pound away from my goal weight. More importantly, I could tell before I weighed myself, because the difference, though small, is obvious. So I was excited to weigh myself, and giddy at the number, and then had a reflexive “don't feel happy about weight loss” admonition creep into my brain.

Why does this stuff have to be so fraught? I mean I know why; centuries of everyone feeling free to critique women’s bodies for being the wrong shape, and decades of backlash against that.

Anyway the other thing I’ve been working on lately—at the behest of my therapist—is rewarding myself. Recognizing when I’ve done something difficult, acknowledging that effort, and rewarding myself for doing the work. And it’s hard! My last blog post was all about that. 

But this morning, in addition to my usual therapy homework, I had an additional task that I’ve been avoiding, and I got it started. Extra difficult, so I extra earned my reward. Plus achieving another step towards my weight goal.

So I’m typing this really to remind myself—I have achieved something, and I do deserve a reward.

Pain au chocolat and Mexican drinking chocolate

Treating yourself

I started writing a discussion forum post and then I thought, “No, this needs to go on long enough that it should go on the blog.”

Struggling to think of treats for myself. My therapist gave me daily homework, and part of it is that after doing the hard thing, I’m supposed to reward myself. But I feel like I’ve been so bombarded with “rah rah selfcare” for the last few years that I can’t think of anything that feels like a reward that is feasible and I don’t do already. And I have all of these negative voices in my head saying “never use food as a reward because disordered eating” and “treat yourself is just a marketing scam” and variations on those themes, like whatever I choose for a treat, I’m gonna get scolded for choosing the wrong thing.

I remember when I was a teen, going through puberty with my fat dad making snide comments about me putting on weight, and figuring food treats could be a reward for exercise so it would all even out, and then my sister making snide comments about eating disorders. Could never win with those two! There was always a gotcha lurking around the corner, no matter what I did.  

I can’t believe I’m still carrying that baggage all these years later.

Intellectually I know I really need to say to hell with both of them. They were both more concerned with scoring weird ego points than anything to do with my wellbeing. But it’s hard to forget decades of conditioning. 

Maybe I start by reclaiming my treats.

Maybe I start by saying, I like good food and if I want that to be my treat, it’s fine, despite what the self-appointed diet (or anti-diet) experts say. 

And now I can’t stop remembering all of the people over the years who have chided me about diet/exercise despite having demonstrably worse health than I do. Why do I give their opinions any weight at all?

Part of my longstanding tradition of assuming everyone who disagrees with me is right, I guess. No matter how many times that proves not to be the case, it’s still my automatic reflex. 

Maybe that’s what I should be working on more than anything else.