Sometimes There Is Only One Thing Left To Say

I knew it was coming, but that doesn't make it any easier.

I hit the dreaded 'plateau' of weight loss.   I have been following Jenny Craig's program without cheating, and I have actually increased my exercise regime.   I feel better, I look better, and the clothes I bought only two weeks ago are too big for me now.

So I looked forward to my weigh-in on Monday.   I thought I was going to see the usual drop of 2 lbs., possibly more.   

The scale landed exactly where it did the previous week.   Nothing.  Not an ounce.

I was crushed.   It didn't matter that the Jenny Craig consultant warned me this was coming.   It didn't matter that I know in my heart it isn't about a number on the scale, but about a healthier way of living.   I felt like crying.  

"Just keep doing what you're doing," the consultant said.   "You're doing great, and you are exactly where you're supposed to be."

I almost had to laugh, because people in recovery said this to me, when I was new and struggling.   I say it now, too, to people who are new.   It's an awful feeling, to be putting your heart and soul into something and feeling like it's getting you nowhere.   

I called someone when I was about two months sober, and said, "I thought that once I stopped drinking that everything would be okay, but it is actually harder than ever."

And she said, "Of course it's harder.   You lost your anesthesia.   Everything else in your life stayed the same, you just can't hide from it anymore."   And then, of course, she said, "You're exactly where you're supposed to be.   Keep it in the hour, the day.   Lower your expectations, and remember that every minute you don't drink you are a success."

Just like when I got sober, it's hitting me that this healthier style of living, if I'm going to be successful at it, will be how I live for the rest of my life.   It's daunting, and the numbers dropping on the scale were keeping me afloat, giving me a sense of purpose.   Just like those chips I got for 24 hours, 30, 60 and 90 days of sobriety, the weigh-ins were my little parade to myself.   

No matter how many times I write about it, tell myself that it's true, some days it is hard to remember that it's worth it.   

When I got home from the weigh-in, because I felt discouraged, I was hit with a craving.   For Sun Chips.   I wanted to eat an entire bag of Garden Salsa flavored Sun Chips.    It's the only snack food I have in the house, now, because up until this point I thought I didn't like them.   

I went for a walk, drank a ton of water, ate an apple, and distracted myself.     But all afternoon the Sun Chips in the pantry were just calling to me.   "We are better for you than regular chips,"  they said.  "We only have 110 calories per serving, and we're high in fiber! One little handful won't hurt."

So I did the same thing I did once when I was newly sober, and was caught unguarded around an open bottle of red wine.   I marched into the pantry and told the Sun Chips to Fuck Off.

"Screw You," I said to the bag.    "You'll taste good for one minute, and then I'll hate myself, and I'll eat more.  So FUCK OFF."

F Bomb therapy.   Give it try.  It works.

A friend on the Booze Free Brigade posted a quote that day, at the exact moment I needed to hear it.   I don't even know who said it originally, because for once Google is coming up short.   But it helped, so much:

"I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it."