Progress

After writing my last blog, I was suddenly stuck by a thought: Holy shit!

I have come so far. SO. FAR. I sometimes discredit the work I’ve done over the past decade because I’m not at the finish line yet. But, it doesn’t negate the steps that I’ve taken.

I have BREAD IN MY HOUSE, folks. As in, I regularly have bagels, whole grain, and child-friendly white bread in my home, AT ALL TIMES. I have waffles and pancakes in the freezer and Hungry Jack mix in the pantry. And I’m not constantly eating them and purging. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I thought about that as an option when I served up the old Wonder-white-and-butter snack my kids love.

I can actually make cookies—like, with real butter and chocolate chips—like we’re in a freaking Hallmark movie, licking the spoons and sneaking “just one more” before dinner.

We have cereal boxes that last WEEKS. We have macaroni and cheese by the case, and ice cream and chocolate syrup. (Nope. Forgot I threw that out yesterday after it tempted me to squeeze it directly into my mouth one too many time. Fun while it lasted.)

Before I was married, and especially before I had kids, I couldn’t have done this. (Granted, I also spent plenty of nights bingeing on my kids’ Eggos and Fruit Loops before hitting the toilet, but let’s not digress from my bragging.)

There are still things I can’t keep around, and maybe I’ll never get past that. Oreos and other packaged cookies are a no-go. Actual candy (even chocolate chips for baking) is still banned. Chocolate-coated granola bars and trail mix: nope. Leftover cupcakes from a birthday party? Oh, that’s funny—hard no. Those things are triggers for me, and even if I don’t indulge, I feel the frantic anxiety–the quickening pulse, the tension rising in my shoulders and the frenetic intensification of my breath. They literally make me feel crazy.

So, there are still things on my “forbidden” list, but the list has grown so much smaller. I don’t know exactly when or how it happened, but it did. And, I’m happy to be here, bumps and all.

Day 83.