Death by Gas Station

In blogs past I've addressed my emotional binge eating history. I've also described the great strides I have made to reverse the ingrained habitual behavior of open mouth insert breaded pastry. 

Most all my woes, through denial, have been chased down with the said breaded pastries and over ninety-six ounces of carbonated beverages. What you may or may not have picked up on is that the battle isn't over... mentally.

So far I have been winning - in pieces. I struggle frequently. Sometimes the struggle is all day, every day, other times it's every few days, but sometimes - it's every second. 

When the triggers are set right, I salivate. When the pressure becomes suffocating enough, I swallow without tasting. Then I need more. Sometimes the hum of the refrigerator can sound like the echo of a gunshot.

If I have just one soda or sweet, it snowballs. The last time I had "just one", it turned into three. That many pastries and soda far exceed the caloric intake of a pretty darn good sized nutritious meal; without any nutritional value whatsoever.

As I write this, I feel vulnerable enough to want food or drink to wash the emotions away - even if for a little bit. I know the moment will never last long enough. I can even tell you that I'm honestly not quite sure what is really bothering me, yet.

I wonder what the subconscious is struggling with so the conscious part of me can cope better. Dr. Phil McGraw would say that something about this all "works" for me and provides a payoff of some kind. 

It's hard to understand why or how a pastry and soda can even come close to satiating, comforting, or loving some unmet need. Especially when in reality the simple truth just might be that I'm a sleep deprived mom.

On a second, but related note, my skin is very elastic from the weight-loss I've gone through over the years. When I lean forward it hangs down from my stomach, raise my arms and the triceps area jiggles, I run and I feel all my excess. 

I look at my lose skin like it's just some foreign part of me. In reality though... the leftover skin is a mass of scars, "leftovers" from the ongoing battle.

There is no finish line. This is why endurance is a good thing to build and develop.

And to think, this blog entry came from simply driving by a gas station, rather than stopping in for a sweet and a soda. It has gotten better though. 

There are times I drive by a gas station and I don't even think about it.  I seldom dream of a gas station when there isn't one in sight. This is improvement indeed.