Not chapters of the Bible. At least not in this case.
So last night I had a giant fucking meltdown. Over the stupidest thing. Let me set the stage. Last night, about 8 pm... I'm sitting here in my comfy chair, after entering that day's food into sparkpeople. I'm all "hells yeah, things are going great!" I have a plethora of calories left for the day, so the ice cream that sounds good is really a reasonable treat. I email DH (in the basement :D) and ask him if he wants to go get a small ice cream cone from McD's. I frickin' love soft serve ice cream or yogurt. He says "Sure." and off we go.
We are sitting in the drive thru lane, and DH says that he isn't going to get any ice cream. So instead of being a normal human, I am all "What?" And then I start the whole "Oh, well, maybe I won't get any myself." Then he feels bad, and says he will get some. Then I start fucking obsessing about how I've given him a god damned eating disorder. I didn't realize they were contagious. It's not the damn flu. He insists on ordering an ice cream cone. So as we pull forward, I am having conversations in my head, feeling shitty, and it all comes pouring out in the form of a teary, slobbery "I'm sorry I made you get ice cream!" Of course, DH was not in any way shape or form expecting an outburst like that. He instantly feels bad, etc. I get all weird, he gets all weird.
I mean, seriously. W.T.F?
Since this was so fresh, I talked about it tonight with my therapist. We talked thru what happened, and what I was feeling. It turns out that I was feeling a weird comparison/competition thing with DH. He was hoping to offset some weekend overindulgences by not having ice cream, and then I felt like I needed to be doing the same thing, and if I wasn't, what is wrong with me? I felt embarrassed that I was going to eat ice cream, then embarrassed that I felt weird about it, and afraid my DH is going to think I'm nutso. I felt sad that I was crying, and out of control about it, and I have a hard time verbalizing this stuff, so that makes it even worse. I also feel the need to compare myself to DH and what he was eating. Which is silly. I mean, what I eat has nothing to do with what anyone else eats. We talked a lot about how I do this not only with DH, but when I'm out with friends, etc. I compare what I'm eating to what they are eating. Am I, the fat girl, eating more than them? Less? What if they want an appetizer? Will I eat too much of it? Are they judging me?
I also talked about how I was worried about my reaction to my sister's weight loss, and the voices in my head telling me that if I'm not losing weight, I'm not as good. I'm failing. If I don't lose weight, I'll be the fat one the rest of my life. We talked about how this weekend, I expect to have some challenges around this competitive/comparison issue. If my sister is choosing to not eat something, am I going to feel compelled to behave in the same way, even if whatever it is is a reasonable part of my day? How can I keep from comparing myself to her, or anyone else and what they are eating?
My homework this week is to try to remain aware, and have intent in the moment. Awareness of the shit going on in my head and the automatic response to base my eating decisions on what others are doing. I need to have intent as well. Intent to make decisions based on what I want to eat, or when I'm hungry. Not what someone else may or may not be doing.
My therapist also helped me to see how All-or-Nothing I see this stuff. I am easily swayed by others and see things as either OK or NOT OK. And I reach that conclusion often based on someone else's actions or words. As soon as I start down this path, I do the whole "this is bad" thing in my head, which is not the case, and I gotta figure out how to think in grey areas, not black & white.
As soon as we started talking about this, I realized how textbook B&W I am on working out, too. Seriously. I feel like an absolute fraud when I say I'm a runner. I have never run a marathon, and I really really don't enjoy running a half marathon. Running for 2+ hours is just not my idea of fun. 30-60 minutes is. I need to learn to be OK with that. I don't have to do a fuckin' Ironman to be a triathlete. I don't have to be a marathoner to be a runner. GAH. And if I didn't workout yesterday, I'm not a giant ass failure.
Write that down. Not a giant failure.
More about the revelations and meltdown later :) Sleepy time awaits.