I am amazed by how quickly I can go from thinking/feeling I want to accomplish something so that I can live a happier life to becoming so fixated on how to accomplish that thing that it I neglect to have a life until I’ve done it. There are many small examples of this — I can’t do (insert thing I enjoy) until I (insert task I don’t enjoy but I believe will have big payoffs if I can get it done). Mostly those are harmless and don’t take up too much of my time and often I do actually feel better for having done them. Then there’s the big one:
When I look as thin as I think I should look, I will be happy.
I hate writing that. I hate reading it. I hate knowing I am still thinking it even as I hate reading and writing it.
I hate that at one point not that long ago I absolutely did look as thin as I think I should look and yet, trying to maintain it made me terribly unhappy. I hate that knowing that isn’t enough to deter me from this line of thinking.
I try to remember what it was like to be at dinner with friends and being unable to engage with them fully because most of my conscious mind was focused on what I was eating and what disastrous affects it was having on body.
I try to remember what it was like to spend hours of my one precious life every week tracking every morsel and bit of activity in an effort to find the balance that was going to make me feel complete.
I try to remember what it was like to fight the urge to run into the bathroom and purge the doughnuts I had just binged on.
I try to remember these things but they don’t have the same power as the overriding belief in thinness equaling happiness. It’s hard not to despair of ever overcoming this belief because I know it’s false but it’s still so powerful. I know it my head, but my heart resists. I try to remember my own “yet” rule — it’s not that I *can’t* do something, it’s just that I haven’t done it *yet*.
Just not yet.