Last night I over-ate a little at dinner. And what I did acknowledge as a minor infraction had profound effects on me both physically and mentally. Physically in that I felt bloated and in pain with parts of the night almost bringing me to tears. Thankfully it did not go on all night, though discomfort did haunt me for a few hours. I was thankful to fall asleep not too much after midnight. Definitely before 1. Hot water bottles are actual life savers. That and peppermint tea, which my mom graciously made for me per my request.
And getting sick like that used to happen to me a lot as a kid. I remember it happening frequently, late nights with stomach pain in tears, crying out, nothing helping. Bayleaf and parsley water. Sicilian remedies. I think I had an emotional eating problem then, as well as now, likely coupled with god-awful food combinations. I was probably eating a lot of dairy and bread. What a nightmare. And you know, when people give me the, “You can’t eat dairy? That sucks…” routine, I don’t see it as sucking. It’s wonderful. I just eliminate this one thing out of my diet and I feel amazing? Wow, yes. I’ll do it. And though I’ve always been pretty strict about my dairy consumption (with the exception of the occasional feta cheese, and butter during meal preparation when dining out) I’ve been getting back on my diet game, eating smaller portions, logging my food, and making smart food combination choices. Also staying away from processed stuff when I can, and not giving into carbs like bread, potatoes, rice, etc. It’s difficult to maintain self-discipline at times, but following through is so worth it because I feel good physically and mentally. Throughout the holidays I felt consistently bloated. But since I dropped bread, my tummy feels so much better, even my pants fit better. But last night, this one infraction really bugged me.
While I was in pain I got mad at myself for being careless; I had worked an additional 3 hours at work, had a small lunch, and was much looking forward to the Israeli/Mediterranean food we had ordered for dinner. When I walked though the door and washed my hands, I basically paraded into the kitchen with blinders on. I had ordered a wonderful salad which satisfied me, and truth be told, I should have stopped there. But I didn’t. I had pita chips and hummus and babaganoush. And yes, all measured and accounted for. But still, I should have stopped, and I didn’t. I became physically ill because of it and mentally berated myself for letting it happen. As I voiced this to my mom, she was a voice of reason, saying not to blame myself, that sometimes these things happen and we need to move on from them when we do. And she’s 100% right. But I have trouble forgiving myself for minor infractions such as these. It’s very difficult for me to let them go and move forward. I try. And will continue trying, but it’s one of the things I struggle with, you know? Self-forgiveness. Unconditional self-love.
But this Valentine’s Day, I’m going to try to do it; I’m going to try to make it count. And I think I did. I fasted through breakfast (a.k.a. forgot to eat because I was doing my taxes in the morning), had a light lunch of apple with peanut butter and honey for lunch, went to yoga, then my mom made a wonderful rack of lamb chops for Valentine’s Day dinner. I ate two of them with asparagus on the side, and ignored the potatoes. Balance, you know? And I feel good about it. I moved on. And tomorrow will be good as well.
I think it’s all about balance.