As most of you who frequent the message board already know I gained 3.4 pounds last week. A fact for which I am terribly ashamed to say was ALL completely my fault. I had a terribly hard week and fell back into the old habits that have been ingrained into me since childhood.
I come from a long family line of Southern "Big Boned" women. We were never fat or overweight we were just big boned and weighed more than other "small framed" women. Growing up in my family you never heard the word diet and there was no problem that food could not fix. Bad day at school? Here have some cake. You don't feel well? Here have some pie. You are lost and misunderstood? Here have some fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, cornbread and banana pudding. There was NOTHING food could not fix.
My mother was absent most of my life and my grandmother raised my sister and I. My sister and I never got along and that has carried into adulthood. We live in the same city and haven't spoken since 2009. My mother reappeared in my life around the time I was 9 and brought with her a husband who sexually abused me and physically abused my sister. I was threatened if I told he would hurt my mother and grandmother. He was a cop and I was a child so of course I believed him.
When I was 14 years old I could no longer deal with my life and I cut my wrist in the bathtub. It took 40 stitches and months of physical therapy to save my hand. Something my family had no problems paying for, but when my doctor recommended psychiatric therapy that was a whole different issue. We don't want our friends and neighbors to think she is crazy. We will take her home and show her lots and lots of love and feed her because food cures any problem.
When I was 18 I got married, when I was 19 I had a child, after that my marriage went pretty much downhill. He was mentally and physically abusive and I ate to numb the pain. We divorced when I was 24.
Fast forward to today. My mother lives with my husband and I. She is pretty much bedridden and we take care of her. I work all day and play care taker at night. My husband is currently undergoing treatment for hepatitis C and the treatment has him so weak and ill that he is unable to work. I administer his shot to him once a week and also play nurse. I am also the only person working in our household, hence the sole bread winner so I get up and go to work no matter how I feel or what is going on in my life.
I find it difficult at most to find time for "just me" to take care of me and do the things that need to be done to help me along on my daily battle to win against this weight that is holding me prisoner. I am attempting to eat well while preparing meals for people who are not traveling down the same road as I. I live in a house full of PEPSI to tempt me each and every day. I am a recovering pepsiholic, I haven't had any soda of any kind since January 1, 2012 and I realize that with just one sip I will be there again.
I am sorry for the long rant but I really just needed to get some of this off my chest so maybe I can put my bad week behind me and get back on track and continue this journey I have started. I can do it, but I have to learn not to beat myself up so bad when I stumble.