Has it seriously
already been a week since I last posted? I don’t know how you
pro-blogging-princesses do it full-time…and work…and CrossFit…and cook…and be
social…and still find time to be pleasant. Every. Single. Day. I’m a
great multi-tasker, but if I’m being honest, the only two activities in the
list above that I’m willing to temporarily push aside are blogging and being
pleasant. And since I don’t like to push two aside at the same time, the
evidence of this post is probably a dead giveaway for how I was at work today.
You’re welcome.
In nearly all of
my posts to date, I’ve written a lot about the inordinate amount of planning
that is involved when deciding to follow through with a plan such as the Whole
30. Most of the planning I was prepared
for. Some of the planning required a
shift in my thought process and some small accommodations along the way. Nonetheless, after 14 days of completely
clean eating, which can easily be attributed to all of the planning, I’ve
fallen into step and it’s quickly becoming a habit. Simply put, I don’t have to
think about what to snack on at 3pm, because chances are I already planned for
that afternoon snack at 7am. I’m not
saying that now that I’m at the summit everything is hunky-dory, I’m just
saying that though struggles may present themselves, planning provides me with
an arsenal of tools to help me overcome them. *cue Braveheart score*
However, there
was a whole section of Whole 30 I simply wasn’t prepared for. At the risk of
sounding esoteric (and I promise I won’t try to balance your chakras, or
suggest colonics whilst surrounding your silhouette in crystals), I wasn’t
prepared for the amount of inward reflection that this program has elicited. I
wasn’t prepared to address the quandaries that present themselves as a
choose-your-own-adventure – do I sit here depressed about this situation, or do
I eat the GD peanut butter cups to get that dopamine rush and push those
thoughts to the side until next time. I wasn’t prepared to deal with the fact
that I would still encounter dilemmas, but since I didn’t have the crutch of
peanut butter cups (or wine, or chips, or cheese), I would actually have to
face those issues and find a new way to build that bridge to get over it.
I’m not a nervous
person. I’ve never had a panic attack. I don’t mind crowds. I don’t care about
tight spaces. I’ve never felt smothered or held down by life. I roll my eyes at
those statements as easily as I roll my eyes when people tell me that they suffer
from one or more of them…because I always thought that you have the ability to
control your happiness and keep your discomfort in check. After the first week of Whole 30, I started
to become hyper-aware of what I’m beginning to understand are my own anxieties,
and I’m realizing that my actions and reactions can range from mildly OCD, to
batshit CRAZY in the span of an hour. After a few discussions with my husband
(and getting pelted by macadamia nuts in his failed attempt to keep my crazy at
bay), I’m realizing I’m dealing with issues that I’ve never had to deal with
before. More accurately, I have no choice but to deal with them now, because I don’t
have anything to temporarily shift my focus to (like shiny things…and Almond
Joy). It is truly eye-opening and a
struggle for me because I feel like I’ve always been able to maintain control
of not only myself, but also most situations I’m faced with. This clear
thinking and self-reflection sucks ass...right along with growing old. And
taxes.
One thing is for
certain – I am overwhelmed by the support I’ve received while on Whole 30. I’m
touched by the texts, calls, emails and comments, and it seems like every time I’m
struggling on the ledge, someone reaches out to me with the encouragement I
need at just the right time. That support has come from obvious places, as well
as some not-so-obvious sources – from people that have been there, to people
that have been instrumental in my triumphs, from my besties who would support
me even if it was illegal (ESPECIALLY if it was illegal), to even the people
that don’t quite understand it (hi, husband!). It warms me to know that people
are rooting for my success, and their investment in me just makes it that much
easier to follow through. One of the
most wonderful things I’ve heard in the past couple weeks, is my husband telling
me that he thinks I’m beautiful regardless, and that he loves me and supports
me no matter what. Ok, he didn’t say “no
matter WHAT,” he actually said “no matter how stupid this diet is,” but I knew
what he meant. Sometimes he believes in me more than I believe in myself…and I think
I’m pretty damn lucky.
Although I feel
like I’m kicking much ass in staying true to Whole 30, I do occasionally have
my weaker moments where I think: just a sip of wine…or just ONE Hershey kiss
would be ok. But then I remember how
great I feel – not just because what I’m putting into my body is healthy, but
also because I’m committed to something tough and in this situation, I’m the one
who is dictating my success. I really
wanted a diet coke on Thursday. I wanted
a glass of Chardonnay on Friday night (or three, who are we kidding). I wanted
a Rolo-filled cupcake on Sunday. I wanted French fries at lunch today. Tomorrow
it will be something else, and the same goes for the rest of the week and
beyond. But, mentally, it feels good to
be good, and being good makes me feel good physically. This week my dopamine is trying on pants that
were previously tight, and now having a couple of inches of room to spare. Next
week, perhaps my dopamine will be the same pants with an added inch to spare,
or non-gaping chest buttons on my oxford shirt.
I do know that Whole 30 is making it easier to choose-my-own-adventure…this
time, without the peanut butter cups.
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