Today I have a Guest Blogger! And it's one of my all time FAVORITE bloggers, too! It's Meri from Our Diabetic Life!
When I read Meri's post, I wondered if she had been reading my mind. Because although some of the details are different, this is a post I could have written myself. And I have a feeling that Meri and I are not alone in this struggle!
Read for yourself... then go tell Meri HI over at her blogging home!
Thanks, Meri! Not just for posting today but for having the courage to talk about something that I struggle with every day!
My "F" word.
I have a love/hate relationship with my "F" word.
Let's face it, my love for food rivals any tweens obsession for Justin Bieber.
I'm a groupie if ever there was one....and food has returned the favor in kind by always being there for me, in the good times, and especially in the hard times.
I married my husband at the tender age of 20, and in the last 18 years we have had 4 beautiful boys, three type 1 diagnoses, 1 cancer diagnosis, and a myriad of extended family health scares. Surely all this is enough stress to put any reasonable person in an insane asylum.
Here in California, there is a cozy little asylum just up the hill from us in the Napa Valley. I always threaten the boys that they'll have to drop me off there one day...
But I've stayed out of the strait jacket, (and as sick as it sounds) I think food had a little bit to do with that.
It has been my comforter for so long.
I met my husband as a teenager, working in his bakery. Not long after we married, his father had a stroke, so my husband and his sister took over the entire operation on their own. Everyone thinks owning a bakery sounds so glamorous. Well, 15 hour days that begin at 1 am and end at 3pm makes the glamour dim a bit.
All the babies, all these diagnoses, all the long nights...I was on my own a lot of the time. I was a walking zombie for so many years, and I remember the days vividly when I couldn't wait for everyone to go to bed at 8...including my husband...so I could sit on the couch, and eat.
It was my release. I didn't have a minute to myself...I couldn't snack in front of the boys, because then they would want to eat too...and exercise was a joke...who am I kidding, I never WANTED to exercise...and let's not forget that my husband was a BAKER...a DANG GOOD baker at that...
It's a miracle I don't weigh half a ton as it is.
But here we are...me and the "F" word, years later, and things are not the same.
We closed the bakery and now my snacks and I don't have the romantic time we used to. Now, I spend that time with my husband.
Food and I are kinda in an awkward stage of our relationship. I just don't know how I feel about it anymore.
The satisfaction I used to get, is gone.
...It's not the food...it's me.
And I'm feeling like that's a good thing.
Breaking it off from the junk is bitter/sweet...but I'm ready for a healthier relationship.
The stresses of babydom and new diagnosis has waned...and as I start seeing everything in a different light, I'm feeling ready to make a change.
I am well aware that destructive relationships aren't always easy to get out of. Food has a grip on me. Turning off the impulses I've nurtured for so many years, won't be easy.
Turning away from what I thought was my best friend?? Man, I'm hoping I am strong enough.
The bottom line is I can't hide my addictive tendencies anymore. The boys are picking up on my side snacking, and they want in.
A healthy family starts with a healthy mother. I really believe that.
I think that will be my motivator.
It is time.
Maybe I'll take out a personal ad: Married White Female, looking for a healthier realtionship...with food.
Gotta start somewhere, right?