Eat Up, Girl

I was stress eating last night, which is far better than stress drinking because you wake up without a hangover though you hate yourself a little more than if you had been drinking.  I ate Blue Bell, then I finished off a King Cake I had from the football party.  It was satisfyingly delicious and appeased my need for emotional eating.  I follow the Keto diet mostly, but I do have moments of cheating.  Sometimes these moments stretch into days.  But who's counting.

Every time I eat something I shouldn't, this chorus of voices starts singing loudly that I am weak.  I stuff their mouths with a sandwich and continue consuming my erroneous food choice.

The beauty about being mentally healthy...perhaps as mentally healthy as I will ever be ... is that I no longer allow the thought that I failed in my consumption of large amounts of calories to travel to my self-esteem where it used to make itself at home.  And fix another damn sandwich.  This time, the failure extends only so far as my stomach...that is protruding a little further than it should.  And homegirl moves on.  Because I burn at least 1500 calories a day cleaning houses for a living and I can afford to cheat a little.

I am smugly satisfied at the changes in my perception of myself and the world.  I love myself more.  I can recognize when others aren't loving me and am able to move the heck on.  I respect myself more and can recognize disrespect in others...and move the heck on.  I tolerate much less.  I allow few opinions to seep into my psyche.  I am focused and driven.  I accept that I will have bad days...and move the heck on.  (I would really like to say "move the the f#$% on", but I'm a Southern woman and that is not appropriate vocabulary.  But it is secretly one of my favorite words...forgive me, tiny baby Jesus.)

My dad said to me when I was having a wallow-kind-of-day and in a state of upset while on the phone with him, "honey, let's just move on."  I was a little miffed at his words.  I felt like a ten minute griping session was not even close to satisfying my need to gripe.  But I accepted his lament and moved the heck (or f!**) on.  Later that night, my son was having a total meltdown about not getting a toy at the toy store in the mall.  I found myself repeating my dad's words when I felt he had cried enough tears over the subject, though I said it not as nicely as my dad, "baby, you got to move on!"  (I may have said it shrilly and with much exasperation.  Homegirl is not as smugly satisfied about her patience with her children.)  My son did not obey as well as his mother did when told this by a parent, for the record.  I do act like an obedient adult on occasion and do as I'm told.  But that is more than likely restricted only to instructions by my father.

What is perhaps the most amazing thing about growth is that the healthier you become, the closer you become to the person you were CREATED to be.  God is amazing like that.  He is the epitome of goodness.  He is the epitome of mental health.  He knows that we are better people, more able to love and accept love, when we are the fullness of who we were meant to be.  He knows because He designed us that way.  He is not a champion of weakness or self-hate.  He is the defender of weakness and the abolisher of self-hate.  He is the protector of all things good.  He is the author of self-love and mental health.  None of this is new to Him.  None of this is surprising to Him.  Humans have always hated themselves.  Humans have always left on the table what they should have been consuming in large portions... self-love.  That is the one thing that won't make your stomach protrude or leave you hating yourself a little the next morning.  So eat up, girl.