It’s been a rough year folks. A really rough February. And not just for me and mine. Many around me have just been taking hit after hit after hit. Thank goodness it’s over tomorrow. Fresh month, fresh start. I love a do-over.
I’ve been thinking, though, through various conversations I’ve had with the people in my life dealing with these hits, about how it is we deal. . . about the guilt that comes with a vice, and about how to figure out other ways to deal.
Many vices are the same as mine.
None of these things, the way that I do them, are good for me…ultimately. But it’s what I do. I also sleep a lot. Ostrich. head/sand=dealing. I’d love to say that my vice is exercise and sex. Not in that order. But I’m not doing either right now, so it’s kind of like my giving up bulimia for Lent…..flop.
I gained 1.6lbs at weigh in this week. This leads me to be live that MAYBE I am figuring out other ways to deal, or that I’m in some sort of control of the eating and the drinking so that I don’t totally get sucked under the tide. I’m giving myself permission to be ok with that gain. I wish I could tell you that I’ve also been motivated to get back to the Y, and I feel closer, but no cigar.
The smoking though…to quote Billy (Rob Lowe) in St. Elmo’s Fire…is pretty outta hand.
This is not ok. I’ve been down this road so many times. And I’ve made it to the finish line more than once. But it pulls at me, and I fail to resist. And I justify it to myself, “I only smoke when I drink…” but let’s look back at my list and see what checks in at number one. Riiiiiiiight.
I know I’m not alone in dealing with life in this manner. My best good fried (yeah, I know it’s fried and not friend)Reno emails to me this line….
I was up 5 lbs this week. I haven’t weighed in two weeks and have been seeking solace in cheese. This has got to stop.”
Not to make fun of any one’s misery, but that is some funny stuff right there.
I want to see solace in the treadmill. To become so addicted that I wake up a size 5 without even knowing what hit me.
I want to seek solace in sex. Truly. I’m having the dreams of a 14 year old boy. I woke up exhausted today, bags under my eyes because I’d worked my way thru Jess, then the boy at my bar that is tall drink of Tabasco, finishing up with my local weather man.
I am in need of a new vice.
So what do you do to deal with the crap? Feel free to leave some alternative suggestions to my own.