Where did you go, Errin? Why did you disappear? You were doing so well. Yeah. I know. This round of teething has put me through the ringer/wringer (?). 3 consecutive nights without sleep (ok, without sleep in longer than hour spurts) and days filled with screaming have not boded well for me and my goals.
If we're being totally honest, I've done better than I would have done a month ago, or even a couple of weeks ago. I've successfully managed to stay away from sugar and w/in my points range, and even managed to keep myself from stress eating. This is pretty huge for me. No secret treats, no binges, no cart full of Easter candy at Target, no taking sips of Vegor's soda. This most recent attempt at my #7daychip has been really good for me, mentally (physically, too, but the mental is by far more difficult to overcome).
I didn't exercise yesterday, nor did I get all my water in (I think I hit about 96 oz., which is good, great even, but not my goal). I thought I might put off starting again until I can get some sleep, but if I can get a workout in today I'll be right back on track. I might make it through this more unscathed than I first assumed.
I do need to talk about how seriously proud I am of myself for not caving into stress eating. It's my biggest burden (and how I ended up eating old Little Caesar's last week--still grossed out by that) and challenge when it comes to eating. I am really good at following my plan, making healthy choices in all but two situations: emotional (usually stress, but sometimes loneliness) eating, and social situations. With the latter, I can throw down. Real, honest-to-god, binges. Whole pizzas. Cartons of ice cream. You get the picture. Then I wonder why I've gained 100 pounds in the last 8 years (not that all of my weight gain is related to this, but it certainly plays a big part). I don't think I fully realized this until last week. I've been so conscious of the food I eat, trying to make good decisions, healthy choices, that when I started eating a slice of cold, nasty-pizza--as fast as I could, while trying to make lunch for a battalion of screaming youngsters, I realized, in the moment, what I was doing. I don't think I've been aware of that before, knowing that I was eating to deal with something beyond my control. I mean, I knew that I did that, I've just not been cognizant in the moment.
So, yesterday, when I got a break from the screamer, I went to Target to pick up some baby ibuprofen and tylenol, and to just wander around in a fluorescent-lit, mass-retail stupor, I was really proud that I didn't throw a couple of bags of mini Cadbury eggs into my cart. That I didn't purchase a Snickers, or a Twix, or a myriad of other possible treats at the checkout. Because I wanted to. Badly. I could have eaten a bag of mini eggs in the car, and no one would have ever known. But I knew why I wanted it, and I knew that it wasn't a viable solution. The same happened at Wendy's when I picked up dinner for Vegor (I know. I'm a fast-food enabler). I stared down the frostys. I looked at his big cup of root beer, and I said no. Normally, I would have drank a third of it before getting home, but not a drop touched these lips. I did have a few of his fries, but I kept myself under control.
So, yeah. Despite the screaming, the no sleep, the lack of workouts--I feel good. I feel strong. I feel aware, and that's huge for me.