One of my first jobs was as a mental health case manager. People that needed counseling or rehab would call the insurance company and speak to me, I'd ask a bunch of embarrassingly personal questions and then find an appropriate counselor or rehab program for them. We had lots of pregnant women that were addicted to heroin or crack that would call and we'd put them in a methadone program. Methadone is basically a copycat narcotic that makes the body feel like it's had the drug, without any of the nasty effects of actually doing it. Addicted pregnant woman go to a special clinic every day to take the methadone during their pregnancy to protect the baby from the withdrawal, and it keeps them from actually doing drugs.
All of that to say that I've had a really difficult past few days. After 2 months of eating like I didn't care about my weight, I am back on my weight loss program. It is so much harder now than I remember it being last year.
I know that if I can just get through this week, I'll be fine. I now it's mental. I know my body enough to know that I am, in fact, eating enough and I should not be hungry. However, I am not only hungry. I am crabby, short tempered, slightly depressed, and oh yea did I mention that I'm hungry?
A few days ago, Aimee was really upset. The baby I watch needed a nap, and Aimee wanted to play with him. She was so upset that she actually cried for the entire duration of his nap. Nothing would distract her from the fact that her little buddy was upstairs and she wanted to play with him. A box of chocolate cookies sat on the counter, a few feet away from her. I knew she'd stop crying if she could just have a chocolate cookie. I didn't give it to her. It took a lot to not give her the easy fix, but the emotional eating gene runs in her veins and the last thing she needs is for me to teach her the very behavior that I am fighting in myself.
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