I’m not a fan of me. In fact, if I could, I’d boo me. I wouldn’t vote for myself in a March Madness bracket, and if I saw myself walking down the street, I’d pull the old “honk and wave the other way” prank.
I’m in one of those nothing-is-going-my-way, nothing-is-good-enough moods—the kind that feels like forever, even though I know it won’t last. A few finger snaps, three headstands, and a couple of rounds of Who put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp? should do the trick.
After hitting another weight loss goal, I gave myself permission to pause my restrictive habits. Doing so has invited in ice creams, French toasts, smoothies, and that too-full belly feeling that whispers, You’ve ruined everything. I feel a pinch of hopelessness creeping in, like I’m teetering on the edge of a conveyor belt that will spit me right back to where I was in early December.
That thought nudged at something deeper—my fear of losing control. In the past, when fear showed up, I found that sitting with it, listening to its specific worries, and then addressing them with good information or a plan was helpful. So maybe that’s what I need now: a game plan that acknowledges today’s overindulgence without spiraling into extremes. I don’t want to be so strict with myself, but I also want balance.
One of my biggest challenges with overindulging is the endless yeses when I’m around other people. Food and drink are currency in social gatherings, and having one feels like holding a winning lottery ticket. You’re in. You’re part of the moment. You get to say, “Mmm, you gotta try this,” or nod in agreement, “Oh yeah, that was great.” I’ve been here before—back when alcohol was my struggle. The impossible thing wasn’t having one or two drinks; it was stopping at one or two when everyone else was doing the limitless thing.
I wish I didn’t need discipline. I imagine other people don’t, and I feel jealous. I don’t like that this isn’t easy for me. But I read a quote the other day: No matter what, it’s hard.
And I guess that’s the truth. Discipline is hard. Overindulgence is hard. Finding the middle ground? Also hard. But if I have to choose my hard, I want it to keep me moving forward.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 