Last night I couldn’t sleep, lay in bed and ate a white chocolate Santa and it was SO GOOD.
Eyes half closed, lights out, a podcast that was supposed to help me fall asleep and that delicious white chocolate that I love so much.
It reminded me of a time when I was still married (so it must’ve been like 7 oder 8 years ago). I was so starved, so hungry, so ready for a major binge.
I lay in bed with about 10 bars of dark chocolate with sea salt, determined to eat them all. After about 2 of them, I felt sick (they were giant bars), but I had to keep eating.
I had to keep going as – you guessed it – the next day was the beginning of a new diet. So I kept on eating, pushing one piece of chocolate down my throat and another one and another and one more, more, more.
Until I felt so sick that I couldn’t do anything but lie on my back for the rest of the day.
I ate them all. And I’ve never eaten another one of those bars again. Every time I see them now, I remember how awful that night was. I remember how sick I felt.
Worse than the feeling of nausea was the guilt, the shame, the fear of what I had done to my body. How would I deal with the issue the next morning? How would I feel knowing what I’d done? Oh, the regret, oh the sorrow, the disgust.
Last night though, I ate as much as I wanted and then stopped. I didn’t need to eat the entire Santa. I didn’t need to eat past my hunger. I didn’t need to eat until I slipped into a food coma.
I just ate as much as “felt good”, put the rest back on my nightstand and was asleep within minutes.
No fear. No shame. No regret. And definitely no disgust.
Now, obviously, this happens all the time. I often get up out of bed because my body tells me that she’d like a little (or big) evening snack.
And every time I am grateful, so grateful that I CAN just eat and CAN just stop…
because for more than a decade I couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t allow myself to listen to my basic needs.
If you’re still there, my heart goes out to you.
If you’re still in the place where you let your stomach growl at night because it’s “past your dinner time”, I feel so much compassion for you.
If you’re still in the phase where you can’t stop eating the chocolate/the bread/ the ice-cream/ the whatever once you’ve started, I am sending you oodles of love.
This place is hell.
It’s pure trauma (I mean, the fact that I can even remember that night so many years ago says it all).
It sucks all the joy out of you.
It’s a nightmare.
A nightmare that often feels never-ending, but it isn’t.
Doesn’t have to be.
You can stop it once and for all.
By doing the work.
By going to where it hurts.
By saying fuck it to diets once and for all.
By resourcing and reaching out.
By remember who the fuck you are!
A goddess that doesn’t need put her body into a box she doesn’t belong.
If you start today,
if you make the decision right now,
if you accept that something – anything – needs to change,
then it’s going to be you who lies in bed next year, eating a white chocolate Santa without fear, guilt or shame, totally able to have as much as you want and then stop… and sleep. 😉
Send me a message if this speaks to you and we’ll see how we can work together: anne-sophie@annesophie.us
