FIghting with myself

I haven’t posted in a while.

Holidays are hard for me.

The copious time spent with family, away from routine; the food, all the deliciousness I want to ingest; the cheer that is required of me, that I simply cannot muster at times.

Due to my uncertain situation right now, with the lack of employment and the thoughts of failure destroying my confidence at times, it really has impacted how I view my body and my health. I caught a cold for the first time in a long time over the holidays (actually the very day I was in NY celebrating with my boyfriend’s family for the first time – great timing), and being sick and bloated and stressed and pimply just plummets my self-esteem into the ground.

I’m always so confident in my abilities, in my appearance, in my future. Now the trepidation that consumes my everyday life over my career (or lack thereof) is seeping into every corner of my confidence. I know I am talented. I believe in myself. Why does no one else want to give me a chance?

It doesn’t help me either reading other fitness or healthy living blogs spewing posts about eating in moderation over the holidays, losing weight this time of year, etc. I love food – I am home so infrequently and I miss my mother’s cooking. I eat delicious food on a daily basis, don’t mind me, but I neither have the skills nor the equipment to cook some of the traditional Chinese dishes she and my grandmother can (and which I grew up eating). I’m not going to skimp out on her famous spare ribs because I want to maintain my figure.

So I was angry that I felt like I needed to deprive myself – and for the first few feasts of the season, I ate in moderation, halving my portions, skipping out on seconds. Even then I was so wrought with guilt over no gym routine and eating way more than usual that I felt myself having those creeping terrible thoughts about myself again. My boyfriend told me to indulge and be happy – and indulge I did. We had friends over for a belated Christmas party and I ate plate after plate of delectable smoked duck, chap jae, spare ribs, fried sardines, and on and on, culminating in fruit salad, chocolates, and tiramisu for dessert. It was glorious. I woke up feeling disgusting and dragged my leaden legs on a run.

So what? I went on a run. But my usual path was flooded so I had to make do jogging around my neighborhood at a snail’s pace. I didn’t know how long or how many miles I ran, and felt a nagging panicky feeling. It was a shitty run and I was in tears as I walked home.

Who cares??????

I can’t let myself fall into the trap of hating my body and myself again. I’ve put off blogging because I felt like it would only trigger more feelings of inadequacy – look at all those bloggers who stayed low-fat low-carb vegan with 100g of protein per day over the holidays and worked out their normal amount! And then there’s me – I ran three times this week and did one HIIT dumbbell workout, and plan on doing yoga with my mother tomorrow. A perfectly normal amount of working out. I ate probably a normal lunch (no breakfast), and large dinners for the past four days – I’m not going to be morbidly obese because of it.

I can rationalize that out in my head, but then I see myself in the mirror and just want to hide away in yoga pants and sweatshirts. Where is my confidence? I feel my tummy creeping out over the waistband of my pants, my thighs scraping against each other, my chin literally bursting into my neck – I know part of it is my imagination and me simply being crazy, but some of it has to be real.

Thank goodness the part of me which believes that I am gorgeous and strong and deserve to be loved and happy still fights back and I’m capable of thinking through my crazy thoughts and rationalizing it and admitting that I need to rein it in. Otherwise I’d be back to horrible eating habits and self loathing in no time.

And a little something from tumblr:

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