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You can tell when I’m frustrated with how things are going. Everything goes internal. I stop writing about it. I stop talking about it. But I certainly don’t stop thinking about it. When I’m frustrated, all gets quiet on the outside and the inner rioting begins. But not tonight. Tonight, I will write.
Tonight I will quiet the thought that the diet isn’t working. Because it is. It’s just not working fast enough and far enough. And that is a different issue entirely. Tonight I will squelch the voice that screams I’m never going to lose weight. Because I will. And I am.
Tonight I will unplug the treadmill of planning and scheming what I’m going to do next when it becomes apparent this isn’t working. Because my head hurts too much to follow a pattern of thought beyond the next 30 minutes. And in 30 minutes I will be in bed, so what does it matter? Tonight I will turn down the volume on the inner tapes playing a continuous loop of self-hatred and disgust. Because I don’t even have the energy to complain and criticize. And I’m trying to make peace with the body that gets me where I need to go.
Tonight I will give voice to the tiny whispers of hope. I will give voice to the questions and comments from friends about how I look. I will give voice to the fact that I can pull my favorite jeans up over my rear end. I will give voice to my efforts at sanity and moderation. I will give voice to two months of discipline and the fruit of my efforts. Tonight, I will turn on the lights and watch the scavenging roaches that are fear and control scatter back into the darkness. I will leave the light on. I will make a mental note to pull out the Raid tomorrow.
And then, I will go to bed, in peace.