another sheet of paper, please

I journaled my food yesterday. I wrote a lot of it, then transferred the data to Sparkpeople and saw that I had, indeed, consumed a day of balanced nutrition. Oh, and I got all my water in.

I will admit to being at odds with this whole journaling thing. Sadly, for as long as I've been at odds with it, I've also known that it is, for me at least, the most powerful tool I have in managing my weight. Oh, and exercise. And even writing down the exercise.

Yesterday I realized that I need to make a shift in thinking.

I remember when I was first sent to detention in Junior High*-- we (me and the kids who would later straighten up or go down a stony end) sat in a cramped, airless math classroom, and one of the most feared math instructors, who did indeed look really weird and mean, would hand out sheets of paper and copies of Reader's Digest. Then we were told to copy the articles, by hand. I was a big fan of Drama, in Real Life, so I usually started there.

The first few times, I gleefully started copying and, upon running out of filler paper, raised my hand for another sheet or two. I got some stares. Detention was not about seeing how well you could copy. It was about seeing how little you could get away with. Eventually, I learned that the technique was to keep your eyes on the teacher and when he looked at you (and only when he looked at you), to write as slowly as possible. It was, after all, why we were there-- rule breakers, slackers, malcontents. Clearly, I was out of my element.

I bring this up because maybe, just maybe, journaling my intake isn't punishment. Maybe it's an opportunity to be more present with myself-- to pay myself a little attention, to put more intention into my day. It just takes a shift in thinking, maybe a return to that person who, way back when, wasn't really about rebellion, but was in reaction to things she couldn't control. Back then, I didn't always know that there were choices to make-- I felt pushed and prodded by everything around me. Now it's different-- now I can see where I can act on my own behalf. It just takes a little time.

*Oddly enough, the acting up coincided with my first consciousness of the alcoholism that surrounded me at home. This, in turn, was accompanied by my first forays into using food as solace.