Mrs. Dude and the shame-induced pity party

I've been having a rough week. The "exercise and eating well" wagon are nowhere to be seen and I'm laying in the dust having a big, fat pity party.


So you know where I'm coming from, I've been on South Beach Diet (from this point forward referred to as "SBD") since September. Between following a regimented eating plan and exercising, I've lost 26 pounds.

But the past few weeks have seen me heading down a path where I'm just not sticking to my eating or my exercise. I've excused away some pretty half-hearted workouts and some off-plan snacks.

I'm at this weird place right now where I'm just ready to be done with it. Not to be at my goal weight, but ready to quit. Ready to stop watching what I eat and to stop going to the gym.

I feel really unmotivated. I know that if I want to succeed, my choice to follow SBD can't be a "diet," even though its name has the word "Diet" in its name. I have to be willing to accept that my choice is one to change my lifestyle and to agree to respect myself enough to stop putting crap in my body.

While were here, I also know that an active lifestyle won't stop for me when I reach a magic number. I fell in love with running. Yeah, it's hard, but it makes me feel good and strong and powerful.

So what's the deal?

I know it's probably all of the junk I've been eating over the past few days talking, but I just want to lay on my couch, eat cupcakes, and watch the newest 'Real World/Road Rules' challenge until my brain melts.

I was trying to hold all of these icky feelings inside. I was pretending that everything was okay while trying to convince myself that I could force myself back on track.

You ever have that moment? You know, the one where you just know you can will yourself to get your act together while, at the same pretending like you never had a moment while you're act wasn't together?

It's exhausting. And the shame of not having it all together and wanting to quit was weighing me down.


Why aren't I good enough to stick with it? What's wrong with me that I'm so weak?


The shame of not being perfect had me in its grips.

I was better, more together, more dedicated I could stick with it. I wanted this bad enough I wouldn't feel so frustrated.

You ever been there?

I decided enough is enough. I was done wallowing in my shame. I told a few of my friends how frustrated I am, and verbalizing that frustration robbed shame of its power over me.

My friends gave me the good advice and accountability I needed. Just saying the words, 'this is really frustrating' felt empowering. Acknowledging that I am nowhere near perfect and that shame was keeping me from doing what I knew what right meant more to me than any run or day of healthy eating ever could.

The "exercise and eating well" wagon is still out-of-sight, but I've picked myself off the ground.

The first step is throwing out all of the leftover junk that has creeped into my house. The second is making some good-for-me food. The third step is getting back into the gym by the week's end. I will run at least a mile--not because I have to do it, but because it brings me joy.