Did you say sabotage?

It’s funny, this word used to remind me of growing up on the farm. My Step-dad would always have us lock up the tractors and hide the keys when we would finish for the night because he was paranoid about equipment

S A B O T A G E.

Now, as a woman in her late thirties the word sabotage means something different. Saying that these last 12 months have been insane would be an incredible understatement. 12 months ago I was in Texas walking on fire at a Tony Robbins event when I got the call that my Mom, who thought she needed a gallbladder removal possibly had a “spot” on her pancreas. I jumped on an early plane, high on life from a powerful event but also scared shitless that my Mom could have pancreatic cancer. BUT I also knew that there was NO WAY that my Mom could actually have cancer, no way. I prayed but also felt completely confident that it just wasn’t possible. The subsequent 4 months were the hardest of my life. Endless appointments, onslaughts of emotions, regrets, and decisions. This last one got me. So many decisions, I felt capable and confident but also so angry and resentful that I was the one to make all of them. How can this be real life? I have a life of my own, a job, a husband, 3 kids, I was coaching soccer for christ sakes. The day my Mom died of pancreatic cancer, I had to go to my Dad’s because he was having a massive Parkinson’s hallucination. I held his hand and calmed him down. Then cried hot angry tears and screamed fuckkkk out of my cold, lonely pickup truck window the whole way home. What does all of this mean? Why my Mom AND my Dad? Why now? Why me? Why was I their only child? Can’t someone else tap in for a minute and handle some shit?

Since then, I’ve faced battles within the estate (because death is always messy), remote schooled my children (thanks COVID), graduated from the Institute for Integrative Nutrition as a certified health coach, found my Dad on the floor of his kitchen, which led to another hard decision to place him in a nursing home, and I have battled with loneliness and depression. There has also been a lot more life-changing moments over the past year but I am saving that for my memoir ;)!

My Mom was my person. The fact that I can’t talk to her on the phone whenever I want, that we can’t go shopping, golfing, or vacationing together cuts me deep. The fact that my kids are so little, that they won’t remember what an amazing GaGa she was makes me weep. Knowing that she won’t be there as life keeps unfolding in crazy ass ways, is really hard to take. My therapist told me that if I didn’t feel depressed or lonely after all this that she would be wondering what was wrong with me. I am struggling. I am constantly walking this tight rope, to my left is self-pity, doubt, shame, regret, sadness, emptiness, darkness. To my right is the life I want to live because I get to live it. The life where I get to joyfully parent 3 kids, the life that supports all of my dreams, the one where I wake up with a desire to nourish myself and my loved ones through great food and an abundant mindset. I wake up and want to honor my body through movement. I’d read books, listen to podcasts and freelance write. Instead, I’m somewhere in the middle and I’ve learned to be okay with that. Life is erratic, it’s not linear and you can’t really plan for what comes up, who shows up, or how it unfolds. Some days I wake up early, workout and the kids and I toast our smoothies with smiles on our faces. Other days I lay in bed feeling sorry for myself and the kids fend for themselves and pour overflowing bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, milk spilled everywhere, cuss words flying (by me). Sometimes I eat 10 bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which is not a typical dietary choice for me and that brings me back to the title of this long depressing story.

You know what I’m talking about, self-sabotage. The ways we choose to inflict wounds on ourselves is truly endless. Since November my weapon of choice has been late night binge eating. I diagnosed myself after hearing a training module in my health coaching class (ironic much?!).

I don’t want to dive too deep into disordered eating because I am not comfortable going there and because this is a personal account, not part of a large-scale conversation. Also, I know the severity of certain eating disorders and I’m not an expert. I just wanted to give a point of reference as to what I am dealing with and how it has affected me since I lost my Mom. Okay, if I am being honest (which I am when I write because even though I share intense, vulnerable topics on a public blog, I feel safe) it’s something I’ve dealt with off and on for a long time. Basically if it’s a baked good, it can’t be in my space. Not kidding. I will eat it. Late at night. Alone. I am not above eating something that was meant for the kids. I will just keep coming back for 1 more until there are no more “1 more’s” to be had. Again, I am a healthy woman, with a strong mindset, full of will, and I value my health deeply. Dude, I am a certified health coach. Butttttttt…..I still down a box of thin mints in one sitting, if my well meaning husband pays those sweet girl scouts for a box of their devil cookies.

So one night as I was reflecting on my erratic eating patterns and subsequent weight gain before bed I grabbed my pen and paper and filled a sheet without even thinking what I was writing.

Self-sabotage, Why?

• feelings of unworthiness
• don’t deserve to reach health goals
• habit
• lack of self-worth
• lack of self-love
• shame spiral cycle
• feeling misunderstood
• dirty little secret
• mismanaged emotions
• fleeting moment of joy
• likes being “bad” because I’m always so “good”
• likes the drama of a problem/issue
• lack of confidence
• delayed gratification sucks and it’s just too hard
• not present/lack of awareness
• confusion about health goals
• emotional connection is broken with myself and others
• low energy/not satisfied by “healthy food”
• depressed
• desperate
• fills void
• boredom
• same old disempowered story
• uncomfortable with myself and what I represent
• fear of what would happen if I actually reached a health goal I set for myself, would that be “enough” or would I still want more?
• cravings are REAL af
• too far gone already, so what’s the point
• stuck in the cycle of accepting less than my true dreams and desires

Lord, that list is massive. I mean I didn’t even have time to think, I was just writing. We live in a world that is conducive to poor health decisions. No one gets rich off broccoli but slinging large quantities of sugary carbs has made trillions for corporations who’ve made bad health their business. The antidote is being aware and vigilant. We all know it. However when you are faced with hard things, traumatic events, and can’t seem to catch a break the antidote somehow easily becomes food…and it’s not broccoli.

Now what? A decision. Then another, then another. It’s all decisions. I refuse to live a life of restriction. I refuse to “diet”. Because life is full of parallelity I’ll bring back the tightrope analogy, I just try to keep the balance. Sure there are days that are full of indulgence but I also have days that aren’t. I incorporate nutrient-supported cleanse days and intermittent-fasting windows. I also have blips in life where I am in full blown self-sabotage mode and the only thing that brings me out of it is a decision.

A decision to resist temptation is empowering. It allows more space for other amazing things to flow in. It creates confidence, changes the story, it leads to better decisions in other areas of your life, and it stops the numbing and opens up a powerful single-focused presence in your daily routine.

But sometimes ya don’t resist and that’s okay. The key is to move forward to the next opportunity, which is literally the next moment in life. A life in which you can choose to add to the suffering and loss we all experience, or choose to take a baby step to a more empowered existence. Baby steps totally count and if you need me to celebrate a win with you, I’m your girl!