Well, I'm mostly back on track today. (Given yesterday's blog about all or nothing, that's huge progress for me, I suppose.)
Today's workout was killer. I started off with a 10-minute jog at 4.5 mph, then killed the biceps and triceps, at one point, doing dumbbell curls with 25 pound weights. Grrrrr! Ended the weight training with two different ab exercises, 3 sets each of 25 reps. Tony...wha? Then back on the treadmill, and I promised I'd do a little extra cardio thanks to yesterday's food frenzy, so I did another 1/2 hour on the treadmill - 5 min at 4.5 mph, 10 min at 5.0 mph, 5 min at 5.5 mph, then 2 min at 6.0 mph, then 2 min at 5.5 mph, then 2 min at 6.0 mph, then 2 min at 6.5 mph, then a minute at 7 mph and a minute at 7.5 mph! WHEW!
Food was spot on until dinnertime, when the oven fries were calling to me. I only had about ten of them, and the rest of my food was completely clean.
I had a dream last night that I got on the scale this morning and it said 162. I didn't know what had happened to make me lose 6 pounds just like that, so I got off and back on again. Still 162. One more time. 162. I was so happy - couldn't believe I was less than 5 pounds away from my wedding day weight. When I woke up this morning, I wasn't disappointed or sad. I was MOTIVATED. I want to see that 162 for real. And I will. By the end of 2008, I will. Watch me.
Lots of personal stuff going on. Family of origin is up my a** right now. I told DH some stories about recent conversations that just made him go "WOW, with a capital W." I mean, he knew we had codependency issues, but it's amazing how they just know how to push every single button, over and over again. Like someone once told me, of course they know how to push all the buttons...they installed the damn things. So, for the last couple weeks, I've found myself having to disappoint them because I won't slip back into the codepen-dance. (Yes, I just made that up. It's a gift. What can I say?) Anyway, it just doesn't appeal anymore, and if that makes them mad, or sad, or even suicidal, all I can do is pray for them. I can't continue to sacrifice myself for them.
I shared with my therapist once that what it feels like is that growing up, we were all living inside a building that was on fire, everything was crumbling around us, it was hot, we were covered in burns and scars. When I got sober, I met people who taught me that I could get up, walk out of the house and begin to heal. And so I live outside the house, but I still see it burning. And my family of origin is still in there, asleep, burning to a crisp. And so every now and then, I can't take it. I have to go rushing back into the house, and I shake them, and hug them, and yell for them to please...wake up! Come on, get out, you can live out here and you can heal! And they just try to snuggle me in close to them on the bed. But I can't just lay there and burn, now that I know I don't have to. So, I run back out of the house. But I'm burned from being in there. I get burned every time.
Maybe one day, one day soon, I'll learn how to yell from the yard.