I often wax lyrical about change happening to us when we’re most resistant. That the Universe (personified) seems to have some kind of agenda which she wants to play out for her amusement. That if we resist change then we get caught up in the turmoil of it and it carries us regardless of how willing or flexible we are.
I’m sick of that.
I’m tired of change not happening fast enough.
I put on 500gms this week – simply through eating crap. And now I’m freaking out about eating. I am terrified of changing back. I can feel that pull back into old behaviours creeping in around the edges. I know that when I get sad I eat. When I get bored, I eat. When I eat I feel sick. When I feel sick I want to eat… fuck. This rapid change is over and now I’m into having to actually maintain it rather than undo it all. I’m terrified of it all coming undone. Of lacking the self control and discipline to maintain it. I don’t trust myself to look after myself.
No meds – I’m sure that was a considered change… wait… nope…
I miss having a companion.
I keep going back to wondering what is so very wrong with me that I haven’t found one yet.
But then I realise that I’m not really looking.