I have righted myself. It wasn't through any trick or any moment of clarity or any sudden realization. I just kept doing what I have been doing for the last 3.5 months, and held to my habits. The habits are the thing, I swear. I kept making my breakfast the night before so I'd have protein after morning WODs. I kept packing lunch the night before--sometimes using a chunk of free time to cook a couple of meals in advance--so I'd always have a good, safe lunch available. I automatically did my laundry and sorted it out into complete sets of gym clothes, so that when I woke up around 4:45 there was no desperate rushing to find necessary pieces. I just kept doing my new habits. I didn't let myself think about it too much. I didn't let myself think of alternatives. I just got on and did it.
And I Am on track. I am eating my veggies and my protein. I have repetitive meals, this is true, but honestly I just need protein and veggies. I don't need food to fulfill me. I don't need food to reward me. I don't need food to lend interest or satisfaction to my life. Food is necessary, yes, and there's no way I'm going to force myself to eat foods that I don't enjoy. But I'm not going to use food as anything else but fuel.
That's another phrase I never really understood. I knew what it meant on an intellectual level, even down to being able to explain about glucose and amino acids and essential fats and insulin and glycogen and leptin and mitochondria and all that gorgeous symphony that is the gastrointestinal tract. But intellect has never translated to a gut-level comprehension, to the ability to not ascribe other duties to what is, essentially, a way for the world to transfer energy to us.
Food is fuel, and that's all it is. I get it now.
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