emotional eating

It’s all a bit chicken and egg

So my eating is terrible, my motivation is appalling and my lifestyle leaves lots to be desired.  

I never know whether eating the wrong things makes me feel bad and sets me off on a path of depressive thoughts – I definitely suffer from the carb fug after eating, and the GP reckons this is because I often go long periods between meals and my sugar and insulin balance is screwed up.  But I do turn to food to numb me when I feel stressed out.  I can manage OK when I have company but when I am alone it is so difficult not to salve my soul with toast.  And then I wonder if I could only exercise more routinely I would be happier.

Anyway, I’ve been asked to trial a fitness tracker which monitors my activity.  I need to be honest with it about food.  Past history tells me I will be filled with enthusiasm until I have a few busy days at work and then I will falter and forget about it – BUT I have committed to giving feedback after a month so I have to stick it out for that long 🙂

Anyway.  I also am fairly determined to start by being kinder to myself, something which this blog was started to help keep me focussed on.  Early bedtimes are my project of the moment.


Poisoning myself

So, I wrote that post last night, feeling optimistic.  I felt quite motivated once I’d written it, and I sorted out all the laundry which has overwhelmed me this week.  I had a horrible bug through the week, so it had fallen by the wayside even more than usual.

After I’d sorted it all out, I washed all the dishes so there was no horrible mess to wake up to, and I made a curry and put it in the slow cooker so there was something for my husband to eat when he got in from his shift.  Feeling goooooood.

Then I made myself two pittas with cheese.  WTF?  I wasn’t even hungry.  They were horrible, but I ate them anyway (nobody likes to see waste … right?).  Then I felt rubbish again.  

The big question is why?  I wasn’t hungry.  I was quite happy with myself, having achieved a few chores.  They made me feel lethargic and horrible, and they didn’t even taste good.  This is not taking care of my body.  This is abusing it.  Like someone who takes drugs abuses their body, but can’t stop, it is a bit like that I guess.

Anyway, that was yesterday.