Viscious Cycle

Disclaimer #1:  I try not to talk about the specifics of my job (nor will I here, so please don't ask what I do or where I work).  I might bitch a bit in this entry, but please know that I'm very thankful (1) to have a job/benefits and (2) to work with people I truly adore.

Disclaimer #2:  I'm not perfect.  That's okay.

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The easiest way to describe what's been going on with me is with numbers:


As you can see, I've worked a fair number of OT hours (nothing compared to when I first started working here) and it has caused its fair share of disruption in my life.  The main reason I want to draw the correlation here is that because I was working OT, I was sitting on my butt for longer than usual per day.  I normally average much higher step counts per day (March=16,000; April= 11,000; May=13,000 steps a day).  I also had to bow out of playing in 3 softball games for 2 teams, and didn't get to my regular boxing classes.  

The other side of the past two weeks is that I was a mess around food.  I wasn't making great choices, I wasn't eating mindfully and in a relaxed manner.  It was wolfing things down (even if it was a salad) at my desk.  There was no intention or attention attached to eating. Oh, and the pizza. Ugh, the pizza.  No meal (not even a snack) should be over in 5 minutes.

Work long hours, eat badly, don't sleep well, (shower that doesn't wake you up), work long hours, eat worse, sleep worse.  Rinse, repeat.  My stress level was up, my emotions were running high, there was little activity, and top it all off I was PMSing (not to mention my twitter was unattended and my Google Reader exploded).  I felt vulnerable, exhausted, and like I could do nothing right (computers were out to get me). [[EDIT:  especially coming on the heels of realizing a guy misled me and treated me badly.]]

I realized things had come to a head after eating a whole box of Velveeta shells & cheese mixed with a pound of broccoli.  The broccoli could not undo the horrors that the Velveeta did to my stomach.  I immediately felt sick, out-of-control, and full of regret. I was living the very definition of emotional eating.

And so, tabula rasa:  I just need to clear the slate and start over. 
I know I'm not perfect.  I also know that it's not about being perfect.

How many people either don't even try to change their lives because they feel an enormous amount of pressure to be perfect?  How many people give up at the first chance of adversity?

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So yeah, that's me:  your hopeful BodyMedia Fit Spokesbody--flawed, imperfect, human. 

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