As a bariatric surgery patient I have had to do a LOT of mental work to be successful on my journey to health. One of the things I had to really work on was things that caused me to eat when I wasn’t hungry. I’ve come to learn that like many people, I’m an emotional eater.
This week has been a doozy, y’all. It started out with Monday’s fiasco (you can read about that here magicofchaos.com/2021/04/19/manic-monday/) and hasn’t really improved since. Yesterday was another day of arguing, crying, raging emotions, anxiety, etc. I found myself in the Cold Stone parking lot at 6:30pm eating my feelings in a waffle bowl. If you’ve never been to Cold Stone they mix your ice cream on a freezing slab with paddles. I went for mint ice cream stirred together with chocolate chips, a brownie, fudge and regret. It was delicious but within 20 min I felt like garbage.
My relationship with food has really come a long way. Since my surgery I’m down 102 lbs. and have been maintaining that for about six months now but the mental struggle never really gets easier. It takes constant and consistent effort on my part to make sure I don’t fall too hard back into my old habits. I know, I know. It was one ice cream, Amanda, don’t be so hard on yourself. Here’s the thing though- for someone who has a food addiction its sort of like quitting smoking. It’s hard to just have ONE cigarette and then get back on the horse, especially when life doesn’t ease off on the stress for a while.
Due to the small size of my post-op stomach I could only finish half of what I ordered so I brought home the other half an put it in the freezer. I should really just throw it in the trash, I know this. You see, there’s another layer to my issues with food. As a kid, I was NOT allowed to waste food. If I didn’t finish my dinner, there was more than one occasion where my plate was topped with cling wrap and that meal got reheated until it was gone. This plays into the reason I struggled to pour out old coffee and make a fresh pot. My logical brain knows I’m not being kind to myself but the bruised part of it takes control and often wins.
So, the ice cream remains in the freezer. Maybe I’ll throw it out, maybe I won’t. If I’m really lucky, one of my kids will eat it without permission and then it won’t be my problem anymore!