Day 44-46 (broken road)

In my previous post I jokingly wrote that I planned on honoring V Day by consuming an entire box of chocolates.

I didn’t think I really would.

But I did. Well, save for the gross coconut ones.

A 2-lb. box. In two days and one morning (this morning).

I’ve hit rock bottom.

I faced my food demons about 30 minutes ago. I found them lurking in the bottom of the toilet bowl. I emptied the contents of my stomach in that bowl in an effort to shut them up. Not because I was sick, but because I stuck my finger down my throat.

All my life I have struggled with my weight. With erratic food binges when life seemed to chaotic to control. I always joked that I was a part-time bulimic — I binged; I just always forgot to throw up.

Today I didn’t forget.

I am exhausted. For the past week I have been up with Coop, on average, four times a night. This wasn’t such a big deal when he was a newbie baby and I was on maternity leave. This kind of insanity was expected.

But a week’s worth of sleeplessness, coupled with new-job stress and a weakened resolve found me doing things I never dreamed I would do.

Coop and I have been up since 5. As I was feeding him in the early morning darkness, I could feel my body crying out for rest. I fed it chocolate to silence the tears.

The night before I had bagged up the rest of the candy and sat it in the trash. As if on autopilot, I fished it out and consumed the majority of its contents.

I can’t believe I am admitting any of this.

I thought after two months of working out and eating better that I would’ve had better control over my vices.

I was wrong.

I ate until my stomach ached. Then wretched guilt took over. I put a happy Coop in his crib to play and then walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

The ache in my stomach is now gone, but the guilt remains. It is my hope that by posting this I will be able to alleviate some of that.

Writing, like food, has always been my saving grace.