The dark and the light.

I am not a fan of complainers.  I never have been.  I would rather focus on the positive than the negative, and I'd rather hear something funny or wise than a snarky or depressing comment.  I always see the good in people long before I acknowledge the parts of them that need improvement (even to my own detriment), and I have no plans for changing this.  This is not to say I can't be snarky - I lettered in snarky in high school - but there is a point where I just say no.  


Perhaps this is why my Facebook status updates are generally of a positive nature.  It's also why I like chick flicks and Disney films, and I'm a sucker for an underdog and a true "happily ever after" story.  


And it's also why my blog posts tend to be funny and silly, rather than negative or mean.  I just don't want to be that girl.  My husband says that's why people like me (at least, those that do) - because I will always smile at you before I'll wrinkle my brow, and everyone wants to be greeted with kindness.


But, that positive, funny girl who writes these blog posts isn't the only one you should know.  There's also the one who is struggling with this diet, and hasn't really acknowledged that very much.  Until now.


Two nights ago, as we went to sleep, my hubby and I were talking a little, and my ever-shrinking form came up.  The discussion that followed surprised even me.  I said that the diet was going well, but that it was now "bigger than me."  What I was feeling in that moment, and proceeded to say, was that I'm kind of mad.  


I'm mad that I feel very isolated from the world of people eating, and feel an incredible sense of loss for the way I used to live.  I'm mad that I'm now one of those "particular" eaters - one who can't have 'this' or won't eat 'there.'  I'm mad that all I do is read food labels and examine every ingredient, instead of just bathing in the joy of the idea of a meal with friends and loved ones.  I'm mad that I am completely detached from the textures, tastes, and joys of food, and I'm mad that they are gone.  In short, this diet has completely changed not only my life today, but the way I will eat forever - and I was not prepared for that, and did not know how excruciatingly hard it would be.  And that makes me mad.  


The more I talked, the more I realized how upset I was about all of this, because the truth is, drinking a shake while everyone else is enjoying that world I no longer live in - food world, if you will - is really hard.  And if I had known how hard this would be, I don't think I could have even begun this whole thing.  All of this was omnipresent in my mind, for no apparent reason - but there it was.


As I laid there talking, I started crying.  I confessed that even though I work at a very busy (and sometimes stressful) job, have a busy and growing family, have great friends and lots of personal interests to keep me more than occupied, I am always thinking about food.  Not longing for it, per se, but it's always on my mind.  It may not be my primary thought, but it is always there - and the thoughts aren't always nice.  I look at the things we are given to eat in this world, and I'm horrified at the choices being made by everyone, including me.  And then I realized that I was mourning the loss of innocence where food is concerned - and the ability to stick my head in the sand about nutrition.


My sweet husband (who I am convinced is actually a saint that only masquerades as an English teacher) listened to my miniature nervous breakdown, and held me very tightly.  He reminded me that he loves me more than I will ever know, and that he thinks I'm brave for feeling all of this - and sharing it with him so freely.  (I am the luckiest girl in the world.)  And then we went to sleep.  


I woke up the next day with the lingering sadness of my crying jag around the edges of my puffy eyes.  By midday, I was basically fine, and perfectly content with my chocolate shake.  A few people who know me well asked if I was alright that morning, but mostly, my traumatic evening went unnoticed to the world.

I hesitated telling you this.  I even wrote a blog post yesterday about something entirely different, didn't I?  The truth is, I wasn't sure I wanted to share my breakdown with anyone else.  (I didn't even really want Paul to see it, but he comes with the house.)  


Ultimately, I decided it was important to share it, because when I write about my diet in a light or witty way, I'm only telling half the story.  The other part of the story is that sometimes, this just sucks, and it's hard.  I want to be done with it already - and that's ok.  I know very well that you cannot have the light without the dark.  Pretending otherwise is folly.  So, here I am, sharing my dark side.


I've heard from so many of you that my blog has made you laugh or inspired you to eat a little better.  I am so glad!  Because we can tell each other anything, I just want you to know that it's not all Indiana Jones metaphors and buckets of easy pounds falling on the floor like fat raindrops in spring.  Please know that this is hard, but it can be done.  The way I feel, and the energy I've gained is worth SO much more than a midnight snack, and that's why I persist.  I hope you will, too.  And if you find yourself crying about it in the middle of the night anytime soon, and you don't have your own masquerading English teacher to calm you down, I'll be here instead - rooting for you and celebrating your awesomeness.