I Didn’t Feel Like I Was Going To Barf

I Didn’t Feel Like I Was Going To Barf

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. It was the first time I can remember that I didn’t feel compelled to eat until I felt sick (and then stuff in some more). And it wasn’t because I was trying to be “good” or lose weight or some other “should”.

It was the first time I didn’t feel a need to shove in a full meal later in the day even though I was still really full.

It was the first time I looked at what was available, chose what I wanted, and felt satisfied, no pull to “eat more because it’s Thanksgiving!!!!!!!!!!”.

I was a bit past full after our Thanksgiving meal, though it was much, much less than in previous years.

This all struck me later in the day — it was amazing.

And it struck me that the change in my behaviors, feelings, and thoughts around food, the holidays, and my body have been years in the making. I have been making baby step by baby step over the past 15 years after falling into my personal pit of depression, hating my body, and eating disorders.

Many Thanksgivings in the past 15 years have ended in tears of frustration and self-loathing. And yet I see that I was making progress in each of those years — picking myself back up, again and again. Trying, again and again. Realigning, again and again.

And now here I am today, in 2016. And I am appreciative of every baby step of the journey.

Just keep swimming (or stepping). That is always enough.


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