One Bite at a Time

I’ve been working on this stress/food relationship for a couple of years.  Once I identified the close correlation, I began my journey toward mindfulness.  Why am I eating?  What am I solving?  Am I helping myself?  Am I harming myself?

Yesterday I traveled to the stress.  Coupled with my own propensity to fast forward, and my ability to create my own story line; there is the normal family dynamic, family dissension and my concern over the well being of cherished descendants.  Enough to set me back on my heels.

But I was prepared.  I meditated.  I had no time for my full yoga workout but still did a few moves, reassured myself of my own limitations in facilitating change, squared my shoulders for what I might face and…

Charge!

By the time I returned home I had happily (I thought) accomplished all of my family missions.  I had seen, touched, hugged and talked with my children and grandchildren.  I had reassured myself.

I woke this morning with the reality of how I made it through.

In twelve hours I had driven 400 miles.  And I had eaten (in addition to a healthy breakfast before I left) a great slab of bread with butter, a giant triangle of pepperoni pizza, an oatmeal raisin cookie the size of a luncheon plate, a Whopper, fries and a coke.  (Go figure, I don’t like sodas, don’t drink caffeine, and haven’t had more than a few sips of Coke in five years.)  Oh, and a few slices of Fuji apple.

Before bed I ate some nuts and drank a glass of scotch as I numbly watched taped Oprah shows.

I get that awareness is the first step.   Yesterday, I had none.  If alcohol were my problem I would need to check into rehab.

Today I am trying not to stress about what I ate.  And I have a new framework for my future relationship with food.  Let it be as good as my relationship with my family.  I’ll work on that.

It’s a new day!

xxoo