Reflecting back on the last few weeks, I’m acutely aware that I’ve fielded more than my fair share of stress. Maybe stress is too harsh a word, and I’m just being a drama queen. Pressure is probably a better word, but in any event it’s fair to say that 2016 has done it’s level best to get right under my skin since it opened for business just a few weeks ago.

I’ve dealt with some fairly crappy personal stuff, or should I say I’ve supported someone very close to me through something which turned their life upside down and when you love someone it’s hard not to feel their pain as your own, right? Work has been incredibly busy and I’ve had to bring it home on evenings and weekends just to keep up, and my mum is fairly needy of my time now she’s in her twilight years.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, I decided to chuck my blog headlong into the spotlight – I mean don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved all the excitement, I’ve enjoyed the process and the unbelievable support from you lot, and it’s been lovely to welcome all our new visitors…the whole things has been awesome. But throwing the contents of my head out there to be judged hiked up the pressure massively, since I’m standing shoulder to shoulder with the best of the best without a clue what I’m doing really.

A couple of times I’ve thought, you know I don’t think I can keep this up. Thankfully those moments were fleeting and somehow all the balls stayed up in the air…the plates kept right on spinning. And it’s interesting, because I don’t ever remember flying solo through such a period of high pressure before. I’ve always relied on my trusty wing-man, food.

Using food as a coping mechanism is a deeply ingrained habit, and yet this time, miraculously I’ve managed to wade through the mire without sacrificing the integrity of my food plan, and I’ve continued slowly pushing the boundaries of my fitness at the same time. Who knew that was even possible..?

It hasn’t been perfect, nowhere near. Although I’ve stayed within my daily and weekly points, I wouldn’t say my food plan’s been particularly clean. And yes, there have been occasions where the only thing to stop me caving under pressure was a mouthful of something naughty. But it’s happened in a controlled way.

I’ve savoured it, counted it and carried on putting one foot in front of the other. I can’t even start to tell you how many times in the past I’ve completely gone off the rails when the shit has hit the fan. How often I’ve walked around the supermarket stocking up, because I’m not going to have much time this week and best be prepared…

Nothing wrong with being prepared, except I generally wasn’t stocking up with broccoli if you see what I mean. I’m very well practised at stitching a comfort blanket together from a selection of trigger foods and disappearing underneath it until whatever crisis has passed, only to emerge days or weeks later right back at square one, and then some.

Now I don’t even begin to know what kind of magic is in play this time, but for the first time I can remember, I appear to be thinking beyond the next mouthful. Every time I start to feel even a tiny bit out of control, my mind immediately wrestles the asshole voice to the ground and somehow, I’m able to navigate my way through.

I’m building up quite a mental show-reel of moments where I’ve fought a battle and emerged with the upper hand, and I play it on a loop until the moment passes. I often wonder whether when people look at me they see the cheese sandwich or the cheesy bugle whizzing around in my eyes like a fruit machine.

Life is still a little nuts. I’m still running around like a headless chicken, but I’m a skinnier headless chicken than I was yesterday, and the knowledge that I’m fatter today than I will be tomorrow gives me a bigger kick than the cheesiest of cheese balls, right? I can’t tell you how much I’m hoping that my wing man has buggered off for good 🙂

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