Here I am again with the realization of what it takes.
I know it. I do! I just, either, forget or get lazy, or both.
I had a great week. The best I’ve had in a couple of months. Five days of exercise. Five days of eating healthy and right. And I’ve got the numbers to prove it! 142 this morning.
Knowing it and doing it are far from each other. I know what to do. I’ve taught this stuff, I’ve lived this stuff, and I still mess up and sabotage and forget. I’ve got to acknowledge that there’s a whole lot more going on here.
For a variety of reasons we don’t fully understand (genetics, temperament, environment), those of us who are compulsive eaters choose food. Not because of its taste. Not because of its texture or its color. We want quantity, volume, bulk. We need it—a lot of it—to go unconscious. To wipe out what’s going on. The unconsciousness is what’s important, not the food.
Sometimes people will say, “But I just like the taste of food. In fact, I love the taste! Why can’t it be that simple? I overeat because I like food.”
When you like something, you pay attention to it. When you like something—love something—you take time with it. You want to be present for every second of the rapture. But overeating does not lead to rapture: It leads to burping and farting and being so sick that you can’t think of anything but how full you are. That’s not love; that’s suffering.
From Women, Food and God.
It’s not about the food, but it’s not NOT about the food either.