It's a category I haven't used at this blog, but if you followed me here from "Set Free," you know that in 2007, after many hints from the Universe, I got serious about taking better care of myself.
To say that pain and illness feels like a really crappy "reward" for all that effort is to put it mildly.
And it probably will surprise no one to hear that even after I finished many months on prednisone, and left behind the steroid excuse for eating at odd intervals, I still didn't feel much like getting back to Weight Watchers, although I did write about it once and make bold promises to myself.
What I didn't do was go to a meeting.
I know a lot of people who do Weight Watchers Online and say they don't like the meetings, but for me the fellowship and the accountability help. I told my daughter six weeks ago that I would go back to the meetings in the New Year, and so today, even though my arm hurts and Sam was at the vet (finally okay, thank goodness), I went.
As is true almost everywhere else you turn, the program for the day focused on reviewing what went well last year, as an encouragement to do well this year. For me, last year stunk, as far as body things go. I spent January and February working out and losing ten pounds or so, trying hard to get toned up, whatever that means, and then by the end of February I began to have the debilitating symptoms eventually diagnosed as Rheumatoid Arthritis.
And although I can make a pretty good case for having eaten because of steroid mania or methotrexate-related low-grade nausea, I think it's just possible I returned to food as an emotional coping tool in the second half of the year.
Because as I've stated here, I feel pretty uncomfortable with anger, but that is what I can't help feeling, unless I can shut it up and stuff it down somehow.
So. Today. I went to the meeting. They have a new program, and a new book for recording your weight, and it's like having a fresh start. The good news is I weigh a LOT less than I did in June, 2007, so I haven't lost anywhere near all the ground I gained (how's that for a reverse twisting metaphor?). But I also remember the resistance I felt to doing a program, to recording all I eat, to drinking the water, especially in winter, the barriers to exercise (different than the old ones, but still barriers) and the frustration of trying to cook for others whose needs are different while trying to care for myself, too.
Really, it's no wonder I gave it up for a while. It requires organization and discipline and a little self-denial and a significant portion of self-discipline. I didn't want those things as much as I wanted to sweeten something bitter until I could face the taste of it.
And I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to taste it now. I'll give it a week and see how it goes.