It is a measure of my emerging better mental health that I think of and refer to myself as good people. This was not always the case, for most of my life I have thought myself as just okay people on my best days and not so good the rest of the time. Negative girl, when she was in a conciliatory mood, would toss out that such judgments of self worth left ample room for improvement and insulation against the perils of conceit setting up shop in my brain.

Me wandering the streets with an over-inflated ego and sense of self. Pigs growing wings and flying would be only a slightly less wondrous sight.

Despite such fanciful musing, I have reach the Goldilocks tipping point of Just Right in my assessment of me, the person, and how I am doing in progressing through life. It is my assessment that there will always be room for improvement, and being good and content with where I am right now is not the equivalent of unpinning the unobstructed by clouds blue sky overhead today.

Until a random stop at the grocery happened today after practice and in a moment of genuine weakness, the bottle of Mexican coke slipped into my cart AND made it through the check stand and home to my refrigerator.

Where it sits like a ticking time bomb.

I have all sorts of excuses as to why this demon has entered my realm. The long series of unstructured days. The traditional peppermint mocha black Friday weekend. The sense of deprivation. The pumpkin pie and mini tiramisu cupcake on Thanksgiving. The mashed potatoes and bread from Thanksgiving. The feeling of deserving a treat. The lie that I got it for M as a treat. The negative girl effect of slacking on practice.

All such complete and total bullshit.

The demon is in my realm because I wanted it. A moment of weakness? Perhaps. More likely just one of those impulses I have mostly learned to suppress or distract myself from indulging. At worst I will consume it and savor the sugary goodness as much as the caffeine hit it will provide. At best I will hand it over to M to remove temptation from my grasp. Most likely, though, is we will split it before or after dinner tonight. The world will continue, my A1c will not be orbiting Mars with January’s lab work, and my new meal planning discipline will keep me on the straighter and narrower pathway.

This time of year is always a challenge for me, with the uptick in socializing and the onslaught of goodies being delivered left and right. Our office move is scheduled for Thursday and Friday this week, the end game of a very long, hectic, stressful several months. Surprisingly everything is coming together; my obsessive list-making, phone call/email/text badgering communication with vendors and the property management firms paying off with this last week of moving Hell. For someone who abhors moving, I have discovered that I am surprisingly pretty good at working through the logistics and problems and wielding an invisible cattle prod to get everyone moving at the proper pacing to make it happen. By Wednesday night all offices will be packed on the moving carts and ready to moved onto the trucks big burly men will be loading for us. Desks and other furnishings will be taken apart as needed by said big burly men, loaded on the big truck, and delivered to the new space. When we arrive at our new digs on Friday morning, desks, office furnishings, and carts loaded with office stuff will be waiting to get unpacked.

Whether telephones, computer network, and internet will be up and running is one of those mysterious wait-and-see efforts, although my computer folk tell me it will go swimmingly. That we are getting a new network server and telephone system in conjunction with the new space should make the actual set-up, troubleshooting, and debugging happen with fewer issues than moving and reconnecting the former server and telephone system. I am simply going forward with faith and confidence it will happen without any hair-tearing or screaming from me to make it happen.

Essentially, 7 months of work comes together this week. Being a stress eater, my single splurge this morning is really the only bad food in the house I will actually eat. M has a stash of gummie butterflies, which smell really good yet I cannot abide the texture or taste on my tongue. Skinny pop popcorn is not that bad, and I will only eat so much of it in a sitting. The box of oranges, the bags of grapes – good substitutes for the snacking I’d be doing if I allow myself the luxury of stress eating. I have worked very hard to get to this point; I am not going to let my resolve dissolve right now when the clutch finally happens.

I did indulge myself in some retail therapy: new yoga mat towel and mat bag. I have been doing yoga very casually a couple days per week, and chatting with trainer J about yoga last night made me yearn for an additional mat towel so I don’t have to launder the one mat towel I have after each class. At least it was on sale. Not my first choice of color, but for the $10 difference in price I can enjoy a pastel blue-green colored one.

The week ahead will take care of itself, without any additional fretting on my part. In this regard I’m glad to have found my niche at the gym, in the yoga studio. I’m glad to have found some focus on healthier food choices that tend to restrain me from activity other than mindless consumption and search for more sugar, more fat, more junk in times of stress.

For now, I am putting work aside and getting busy reorganizing my gym bag. My Lists have gotten to be quite a mess, with several copies outdated copies and Lists I have not pursued in several months and want to revisit, and others that I feel I have mostly outgrown or that have been replaced by other things.

There is also some work-work, some study on our bigger camera – I am wondering what it might be like to add pictures to the blog more routinely – and some additional work to be done on my fitness-focused blog that has been languishing and needs some attention.

Then there is the usual weekend domestic choring to be completed. How could I be home this much this week and still have to run the vacuum and run a couple more loads of laundry? But oh well. Add to this list a few emails to write and phone calls to make, and I should be busy the balance of the day. And I’d really love to get back to listening to my Scott Abel podcast series and read a further in my book.

Obviously I have plenty to keep me busy and not trying to implement anarchy in the streets.

Hope you all had a fabulous weekend.


3 thoughts on “When bad food happens to good people

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