Bitten by the bug

I think I've been bitten by the tennis bug. So what if I went to the charity shop on Saturday to buy a racket and ended up accidentally getting a squash one because I don't know the difference?

I had a fantastic Saturday, woke up and had a breakfast that filled me up until the afternoon. I had toast with peanut butter, sea-hawthorn jelly thickened with agave syrup and a second toast with marmite and the last of the homemade hummus.

Fuel

I went to group and then to Pilates, after which I bought the racket in anticipation of an invite to play tennis with our friends Dan and Lisa on Sunday. Erm, slight fail.

On Sunday, we decided to try and find another racket. I'm not sure what to make of the one I bought. I might just donate it back to charity.

After a late breakfast of omelette, we cycled to Brick Lane, where aside from super hyper ueber hip fashion trendsters and achingly cool vintage stores there also is a huge open square that sells all kinds of stolen goods and flea market stuff. We found a wooden racket and set off again.

We stopped at Redemption for a drink. On the web, this looked so inviting.  really wanted to check out the location and it is lovely. When we got there, around 2 pm on a Sunday, it was fairly quiet and to pay £4 for a small jug of juice was steep. The price of the salads - £12 for one - was too much for me, despite sounding amazing and the pictures of the website really getting me to salivate. Maybe when I get a pay rise... well, actually, I am a cheap skate. 12 quid is a lot of money for a salad. Even organic, good for you, your body is a temple, hand-picked by virgins and prepared lovingly, this is more than I am willing to pay. Sorry Redemption.  

Redemption Rooftop - great location, a bit too pricy for me.

We cycled on around the corner to eat from the brilliant guys at Licky Chops, who have taken up residence at Climpson's Arch. I am glad we went. Although also on the pricier side, the atmosphere was livelier and was just right for me that day.

I got two smaller portions, because I am greedy and I couldn't decide. I forgot to take a picture of the grilled courgettes with stracciatella and pumpkin seeds. The smokiness of the zucchini was glorious and the creaminess of the cheese was a perfect foil for the crunchy, salty pumpkin seeds.

This beauty was not to be sniffed at either, I snaffled it up in no time:


Grey mullet ceviche with cucumber, gooseberries and dill.

When we took to the court at 5, I was slightly apprehensive. I hadn't ever played tennis properly. It was lovely and one hour flew by. Who would have guessed, I am super competitive, I cannot direct the trajectory of my tennis ball and overall I missed more balls than I hit them. Suffice to say, I want to go back and do it more often.

Lazy bones and the meaning of life

Arrgh, shit, I had written a lot on this post on Friday and now it's nowhere to be seen. Darnit. It would also appear that I had gotten the meaning of life (see title), which I have - obviously - forgotten again and I am just pissed off.

I'm gonna keep this short. Thursday and Friday were lazy days, that was the essence of the post. It felt relaxing to do nothing. I worked, went to pilates, worked some more, and in between, I would sneak off to indulge - sometimes even at lunch time - GASP. By indulge, I mean lazing on the sofa, letting my butt imprint on the couch, totally hooked on 'Girls'. I am such a fan of this show, it's tender and raw and weird - I like it.

Anyway, I was working from home both these days and I like being able to do something more exciting than just having overnight oats, which are my staple for when I go to the office.

Porridge with nectarine, coconut, mint and yoghurt. Yum.

 Lunch on Thursday:

Salmon with sautéed mushrooms, onions and asparagus.

Side salad from the garden - Arugula & spinach drizzled with maple syrup, lemon juice & poppy seeds

 Afternoon snack:

Hummus and vegetables

For dinner, on Thursday, we treated ourselves to a night out. There is a pub not far from us, the Marquess Tavern. For ages, it only served drinks, but recently it's been done up and now serves food too.

Lovely interior, very attentive bar staff

I went for the burger, with vegetables on the side instead of fries. It was not the most amazing burger I had ever tried, it was a bit too dry for that. The menu had a lot to offer and next time I will definitely try the scallops or the fish.


Burger at the Marquess Tavern

Thoughts and things

Sometimes, I run away. From the problems, the difficult shit, the uncomfortable feelings and situations. I kinda ran away last night...

I felt really uncomfortable last night at the meeting, I basically shared that I can't seem to stick to three meals, even when I commit to it. It felt like admitting a huge failure in regards to the program. There I had been tooting my horn about 9 months abstinence, when in fact I was unable to stick to my food plan. The snacking doesn't feel right and a lot of other OAers refer to their abstinence as sticking to three meals only.

As I write this now, I actually think that I did remain abstinent, since I didn't puke. I think I am being overly critical of myself. The snacking is something I want to stop, yet whether I give it a label of 'relapse' (which I have shame around) or whether I call it 'not sticking to the food plan', that does not change the action. It's the same action and when I do it in excess, I feel obsessive about it and in the past this kind of snacking has led me to binges. So, I would like to stop having unplanned snacks.

So, does having a glass of tomato juice after lunch count as snack? I was full and still had it. Is that a form of overeating?

I am working from home today and this is what I ate so far - aside from the aforementioned tomato juice. I cycled to my acupuncture appointment and back, in total 7 miles, and despite it being August and the sun shining, I was cold and a bowl of oatmeal appealed to my rumbling stomach.

For breakfast, I tried my last pouch of nut butter that I had brought back from my trip to Seattle. I was quite sceptical to try it - Artisana's Raw Blue Algae Nut butter. I mean, c'mon, cashew butter with algae? Seriously?!?

I eat my words - and the entire bowl of oats. It was yummy!

Oatmeal, strawberries, apricot, green nut butter and kasha.

At lunch, I ran/walked to the gym. Normally, I would jog, but my hip pain and renewed sense of self care means I am taking it slow. The 45 minutes in the Pilates class flew by and I walked back home to have this beauty:


Sautéed veggies with egg, chorizo and broad beans - kale from our garden.

So, now it is afternoon and I have a few more things to work on and have also a Skype date with a good friend of mine. I prepped the lamb koftas for tonight, will maybe make a tzatziki and some hummus to go with a pita and some salad.

Before I publish this post, I want to share a question my dearest spiritual mentor and friend Tania asked me, in reply to my check in this morning: Why am I actually on this journey?

I want to be healthy, I want to be happy and find smiles and chuckles in every day small things and big things. I want to be loved and accepted. I want to do good. I want to be enough. I want to accept that my life is enough for me, that I don't have to be a certain way, a certain shape, of a certain status, possess certain things. I want live with my whole heart, with my whole being, not distracted by thoughts of worthlessness or constant worries about food, weight gain and what that means for my self-esteem. I want to look at my family, my friends, my work and see a balance. I want to dream and love and have a family that is healthy and caring and compassionate

Restful Sunday

I did not do much and it felt good.

My day involved cycling to a meeting in Soho on the morning. I fuelled and nourished by body with an omelette that was filled with sautéed kale and chard from our garden, tomatoes, mushrooms and paprika.

Obligatory Sriracha sauce on top

The meeting in Soho is very close to one of my favourite coffee places - Milkbar, where I usually stop to get a coffee. This place does fabulous coffee, delicious sweet treats and a fabulous breakfast. The people behind the bar are also totally laid back, accommodating and sincere, which is rare.

On that visit, I could not resist and try one of their cookies, it is called an Afgan cookie: Chocolate with chocolate chips, cornflakes and a walnut. I paired it with fresh raspberries I got from a stall at the Islington Farmer's Market. Snack served.

Chocolate cookie and raspberries.

Soft is sexy

That's what I agreed with a dear friend is going to be my new mantra. The reason why that HAS to be my new mantra is the fact that I am softer now. I mean both in my body and in my mind, i.e. how I talk to myself. I find it hard to deal with the physical changes and so I want to affirm myself that soft is indeed sexy.

I've had a few turbulent days, best shared via my daily check ins:

I overate yesterday when I was alone at home in the evening. I snacked consistently after my dinner and today I am feeling shame and anger around that. I had a quick moment before I started, where I was thinking if I should really start, but disregarded it and ploughed on ahead. It was similar to when I was still binge/purging. I couldn’t stop and justified in my head why it was ok to continue eating. Today, I don’t agree with these arguments anymore and I can clearly see that there was a compulsiveness.

 

I have started texting in my food again, for today, which gives me a structure that has previously worked.

This whole thing is multi-layered. I snack, telling myself that I need it as I work out and justifying it by snacking on relatively healthy things (popcorn, carrots, fruit) and I eat until I am really really full, at which point remorse is already kicking in (sometimes even before I finish eating). If I am very very full, I sometimes wonder if I should throw it back up. I don’t, which I am very thankful for. So I go to the gym to counter the ‘snack-attack’, which in turn fuels my belief that I am entitled to a snack as I have worked out… Then on top of that, there is also the wish to fit into my clothes more comfortably. Whenever I wear trousers that are tight, which the majority of my jeans now are, I am constantly reminded of my weight gain. It’s nothing massive, I can still fit in most of them, albeit with a muffin top. It is noticeable to me though, also because I have a unhealthy obsession with my body and body image distortion. I check myself in the mirror, compare myself to older pictures of myself (fully well knowing that I was a lot sicker then, yet still wanting to be that thin, just in a healthy way). I wish I could get away from wanting to look a certain way. I truly believe that this is the ultimate goal for me in my recovery – to be a healthy weight, which I am at the moment, and be ok with that. To accept fluctuations, to eat out of hunger and enjoyment, rather than to address boredom, rather than to fill a hole or emptiness.

And because I feel trapped in this cycle, it’s hard. I totally white-knuckle it when I do just stay within the suggested three meals a day, feeling confined and my angry inner teenager goes ‘fuck you all, I can eat whatever I want and whenever I want and FUCK YOU!!!!’. I feel good once I stuck to the plan for a day or two and then go right of ‘rewarding’ myself for it by having a snack – I mean, seriously, how delusional and sick is that? And then I get so fed up because this feels so hard, dealing with feelings and not numbing or distracting myself with food/food-related activities is difficult and at times unpleasant. In moments, when I feel overwhelmed with the pressure of working on recovery, the disease is very appealing. It’s like a siren, calling to me to just give back in and slip back into utter insanity.

Argh, writing this all out already helps, I feel clearer and can see the sick patterns. And I know, this is so much better than it was before. I am no longer feeling hustled to cram in binges during every available slot, I don’t lie to my loved ones, I don’t put my body through hell, I am seeing myself clearly and am observing myself honestly for the first time in a long time and whilst I do want to beat myself up for not doing the food abstinence right, part of me just wants to give me a hug and be happy for me and the progress I’ve made.

I am a commitment to balance.

 

I had worked from home on Friday, when I wrote that, and had a relatively good food day, starting with a healthy smoothie and then had gazpacho for lunch.

Kale smoothie with strawberries, oats, cinnamon and buckwheat groats.

Green gazpacho

The gazpacho was delish and the picture here is from the next day, where I had the last bit for lunch, jazzed up with leftover lentils, tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella and hazelnut pesto.

Our friends came round for dinner and I had prepared the gazpacho as an amuse bouche, starter of grilled peach and mozzarella salad alongside some bread and foie gras and as main we had cod wrapped in parma ham with roasted tomatoes and lentils.


The cod was delicious.

Today, Sunday, this is what I wrote:

Yesterday, I was thankful for experiencing compassion, acceptance and a sense of calm after my step 5. I enjoyed a Pilates class, watching a movie snuggled up with Max and loved lying in the sun watching clouds go by. I enjoyed resting in the sofa in a quiet house, aware of my breathing. I am thankful for these moments.

After step 5, I've had a few thoughts reaffirmed. I've had some harder days and then some much better days, I think that's what life is about, riding the waves of our fears and using my tools and program to deal with things that I've previously been unable to deal with healthily. I make mistakes and I learn. I learned that acceptance of who I am, where I am in life, in relationships and what I look like isn't scary, that it's more achievable if I only focus on today and I can make healthy choices to stay healthy today.

Today, I am going to a meeting in Soho, we're having friends come over for lunch and I would like to mow the lawn. My hip and knee still hurt, so whilst I would love to run to the meeting, I believe a gentler walk or cycle might be healthier. I am a commitment to balance today.

 

Summer in Berlin

East Side Gallery in Berlin

Last week around this time, I was getting ready to visit my friends in Berlin. I am totally and utterly in love with that city and would move there if the British Boy hadn't just taken a job in a new company recently and probably needs to stay there for a while. In fairness, he did raise the topic whether he should take the job a few months back and the thought of organizing anything, taking the ball off of my recovery was so scary, that I shut that conversation down pretty quickly.

I digress - Berlin. I loved it. The girls - I feel I need to explain that. To me, having friends is part of what makes my life worth living. Sharing parts of our lives, our hopes, troubles and challenging one another on finding ways to live life more fully sounds oh so pretentious, but that's basically what we do. 'We', that's a group of 5 girls who all, at one point or another, worked together in London. We're four Germans and one Italian. My former boss Sandra is the connector. She was leading a German team in a digital advertising company in London and hired Irene. During Irene's employment, Sonja was hired. I followed in 2005, when Irene had already left but joined us on social outings. Simona, the sole Italian, was working side by side with us and actually lived with Sandra. Sonja, who had been living in Germany (but was on our team), moved to London to be with her then boyfriend, now husband and father of her gorgeous little boy. Before moving in with the British Boy, Irene and I shared a flat and whilst all the Germans have now gone back to the fatherland, Simo is in London with me after several years in India. Still following me?

Anyway, we were quite a close bunch when we were all in the UK - from girly brunches in the neighbourhood, come dine with me-esque dinner parties (there's still an outstanding debate if me, Irene or Simo won), to day trips to Bath and longer holidays to Istanbul, New York and as of late Berlin. As time went on, some of us got engaged, married, moved countries, lost jobs, had babies and keeping in touch, whilst no longer doable on a weekly basis, is a priority for us. We make a point to meet at least once a year and this time it was in Berlin.

Sadly, Simo was unable to join as her 9 month old baby got sick and Sonja, whilst living in Berlin, was facing double trouble with moving house and dealing with her injured husband as well as new-born.

So, it was just Sandra, Irene and myself, and for most of the time, Irene's adorable 3 year old. We came together to celebrate Sandra's pregnancy (also a boy, it seems our coven can only crank out little wieners) and to catch up on life.

We spent hours sitting and having glorious German breakfast. If you are unfamiliar with a German breakfast, behold, for it is a thing of sheer beauty. Fresh bread rolls, a plethora of cold cuts, cheese, smoked salmon, fresh fruit, jams, honey, nutella and fresh coffee - all these things just scream 'leisurely lazy weekend morning'. 



German Breakfast Day1

I could totally go overboard with so much food in front of me! However, being honest with my friends about my food issues, openly asking for their support and texting my food plan to my sponsor helped me stay present and enjoy their company rather than fretting about calories. 

German Breakfast Day2

 

Saturday, we just spent at Irene's before going to a lake for the afternoon and swim. Dinner was a BBQ which I didn't take any pics of. The day went by so quickly and all of a sudden it was Sunday and we had packed our bags and were spending the last few hours touring through a hot and sunny Berlin:


I can only recommend visiting the East Side Gallery which is a part of the preserved Berlin Wall.

After a quick walk along the Wall, we headed over to Treptower Park, which was calm, shady, quiet with tons of space to sit down and rest. I kept telling the girls, had we been in London, we would not have been able to swing a cat in a park with the kind of weather we had. That's what I love about Berlin - it just seems so much more wider, calmer, less crowded.


Insel Berlin in Treptower Park.

For our last meal before we all jetted off again (oh well, that's a complete lie: Sandra actually took the train and Irene just had to drive back to her house for 20 mins), we sat down in a lovely restaurant by the river Spree and ordered salads. 30 degrees was simply too hot for anything other than a cool salad. Mine came with filets of salmon and ocean perch. It was yummy and tied me over until the flight at 7pm.

Fresh crispy salad with juicy, protein packed fish - yum!



Summer holiday part II - Guten Tag Ostsee!

Oh, the Baltic Sea. How could I have forgotten how much I love it? It was amazing. Utterly beautiful, breath-taking, wonderful, relaxing... it was great.

After one week with the British Boy, I ditched him, left him in London and flew to Berlin. My mom picked me up from the airport and we drove the 3 hours to the Baltic Sea, singing along loudly to songs in the radio, talking about life, dreams, hopes and our expectations of the trip.

We stayed at the Ginkgo Mare, which is a bio hotel and offered a fantastic deal that included eco breakfast (think whole wheat rolls, mueslis, yoghurts, fantastic fruits and spreads and lots and lots of herb teas), rental bikes, a lunch package (two whole wheat sandwiches with ham, salami or cheese, a snack, some fruit) as well as a spa treatment for each of us.

It was so relaxing and I felt so taken care of. The first night, we ventured out and went to the Seebruecke, which is the main pier, where the majority of seafood restaurants reside. We hadn't booked and luckily a kind couple agreed to share their table with us, so that we could delve into fresh and delicious food:

Steamed perch with vegetables and a butter shrimp sauce.

The sunset on that first night was unbelievable. I drank in all the colours and the sea air and the sea gulls and felt like I had truly arrived. It was magical.

What colour display!

On our second day, we got to the beach early on our bikes, put up our wind breaker and spend a leisurely day snoozing, reading, jumping into the sea like deranged teenagers and feeling alive in the waves.

Morning beach

There is a wilder, more rugged beach on the West of the peninsula which promises wonderful sunsets, so Mom and I took a couple of bottles of sparkling wine, a picnic and spent the evening watching the sun set over the Baltic Sea.

German Sekt is tasty.

Almost gone.

The next days we spent on our bikes, cycling to close by villages, exploring the area and enjoying either our lunch packages, evening picnics and treated us to a couple of dinners too.


At a restaurant where I forgot to take pictures of the food. Haha, it was good though.

We managed to go to the beach every day and just looking at these pictures transports me back. I feel the fine sand between my fingers, can taste the saltiness of the water and hear the waves endlessly rolling in, sometimes calmly, especially during our early morning swim on the last day, and sometimes with much force and energy. Always never ending.

I can't wait to go back.

Summer holiday part I - en France

Vive la France! I want to write how wonderfully relaxed I am, how much I found calm and acceptance in the tranquil and remote location. I didn't and I did. As with seemingly everything in life, some days were better than others. Upon returning yesterday, I went overboard and overate a lot. My mind is obsessing about my weight gain and in my mind I keep on seeing some of our holiday snaps on replay and all I focus on are the wobbly bits, rather than how I felt then (which was fantastic).

I'm finishing this post after having returned from holiday part II already and in hindsight, I am remembering the good and lovely parts more than the obsessive parts. Our holiday was at a beautiful private lake we had just to ourselves and we stayed in this cabin that had no TV, internet, electricity and was heavenly remote.

Our cabin

After getting used to the fact that water could only be heated via the wood-burning oven and took about 45 minutes to reach shower-ready temperatures, that the bathroom contained a composting toilet (that means no flushing and basically doing a number 2 into a separate container and then sprinkling some saw dust over it in the hope it won't smell too much) and that no electricity meant no electricity, we slipped into a calming routine.

Each morning, I would wake up and put the fire on, even though it might be already a warm 19 degrees outside, so that we could have a warm shower of precisely 4 minutes each. Otherwise, the warm water was gone and the last person was just shit outta luck. I would then put the kettle on for the coffee and whilst the British Boy would not join, I would amazon-like paddle out onto our lake on the raft, let my sleek body glide into the cool water in a nymph like fashion and go for a relaxing and meditative swim. Ok, reality check - I balanced awkwardly on the raft, lowering myself down onto the side stabilizers like a shaky grandma and, with more or less of a splash, allowed gravity to roll me into the water. The swim was out of this world though - the sun glistening on the water surface, pond skaters scooting out of my way, one morning a heron majestically gliding over the tree tops and the early morning bird song. I always left feeling refreshed and grounded and light and right.

The lake

Food-wise, France is just paradise. I left with the resolution to stick to three meals and one snack a day and overall, was successful - it made me realise how often I still pick at stuff. A cherry here, a carrot there, some popcorn in between meals, even though I don't need it. It wasn't easy and I think I used our meals in restaurants as an excuse to splurge as a result. Well, it truly showed me that I can do three meals without or with just 1 snack and that I feel good sticking to that.

For the most part, we catered for ourselves with healthy food:

Breakfast of greek yoghurt, oats, nectarine and strawberries with almond slivers. Coffee too!

Modified Ploughman's lunch.

We had rented bicycles and cycled to a near bathing lake, where we had enjoyed picnics and ice creams (my snack).

During our first day at that lake - we returned almost every day - we ordered a surprisingly substantial chicken salad. On the side, we had French fries with ketchup that reminded me of hot sunny afternoons in a lido of my childhood.

Chicken salad

We ate a surprisingly large amount of fois gras and a lot of salads, it was quite hot.

Salad, Fois Gras, cheese, olives and smoked duck.

The bathing lake also had a wonderful restaurant, which we actually managed to go to twice because the food was yummy, not too pricy and the waitress was lovely.

View from the restaurant

Rocket and Parmesan salad

Entrecote of veal

Sides of potatoes, green veg and a jus.

Carpaccio starter on our second visit - out of this world!

There was a huge market in the nearest city Piegut on the Wednesday, and we got fresh cod, which the British Boy prepared for me.

Cod, a stack of aubergine and courgette with a tomato sauce and stuffed mushrooms. A slice of bread on the side to mop up the juices.

We also went further afield to explore some of the recommended places to visit. Brantome was a cute town with bags of charm and the restaurant Au fil de l'eau came highly recommended. I only took a picture of my starter of cuttlefish with chorizo and in my excitement forgot to take one of the main.

Cuttlefish,

In my mind, we would be cycling to the nearest village each day, getting croissants for breakfast and having relaxed long brunches. In reality, we got very sweaty, arrived at the bakery to be told they were out of croissants and had to make do with the little food we had left in our gas-powered fridge (which takes forever to cool a beer, let alone a bottle of champagne!). Not ones to be disheartened, I deployed my barely existent French, stumbled through 'je voudrais deux croissant et un pain au chocolate pour demain' and returned stubbornly the next day on my bike in the hopes the kind baker had understood what I had tried to order.

Lo and behold, they had and I rode back triumphantly with my cargo carefully stowed away in my backpack like the treasure it was. Breakfast on our second to last day was croissant and fresh fruit. I felt like a true French woman.

Oui, je parle Francais.

Fruit

Fruit of my labour and my abysmal French

 

Looking back over these pictures now, I would love to go back and have a morning swim in the quiet lake or lie on the raft at night, watching the sky and looking for shooting stars.

Summertime and living is still hard sometimes

The sun was out and I soaked up the energy. It's Sunday night as I write this and I feel knackered. In a good way.

 

After the lovely Friday night, we prepped for our dinner party. That is, the British Boy stayed at home and cooked and I got my hair cut and highlighted, walked back from Central London with a fellow and sat outside with a frittata made with kale from our garden and a salad of rocket and spinach from our garden too.

Kale, prosciutto, zucchini frittata and salad with cherry tomatoes.

And then this happened:

 

I am getting very obsessive about what Max is preparing, how he is preparing it and how much of it I will eat. I saw all the yummy stuff he bought and I don't want to miss out. My body gets tight and tense when I think about how I will interact with the food. And then I think about how dissatisfied I am with my body at the moment and that makes me sad, because I can see that it's not nice to myself, and I'm angry because I cannot see a way out that thinking. It's uncomfortable and it won't go away. My hearts desire is to accept that it is how I feel and that I don't try and force myself to suppress it or move on, and move through it however long it takes. I am worrying more about the food than the chance to have a great evening and connect and have fun with friends. I am looking forward to seeing them, enjoying their company. 

After I had written that, I tried on a pair of trousers for the party. Oh, the mayhem that ensued!
I cried and felt so angry at myself after realizing I didn’t fit in yet another pair of trousers; I was drawn into a pit of self-pity and despair and just didn’t see a way out. Max tried to give me comfort and console me, which I was unable to accept. Then friends came over and I started feeling better. I stuck imperfectly to my food plan and am ok with it. 

 

Today, I woke up feeling not nearly as hung over as the other people, went for a run and got already quite a few things done. It’s a wonderful day and I am looking forward to whatever will come my way.

Summertime

 

Beef minon or how to have a wonderful Friday night

To most people, this is known as filet mignon or fillet steak. Not to my friend Christin, she calls it beef minon, and it was the best minon I had in a long long time. She recently moved into this new flat in London and I had serious kitchen envy when I saw her on Friday. I mean, seriously, isn't this ridiculously perfect:

Perfect kitchen

We started with a cheese plate and then had juicy, perfectly medium rare steak. Finished off with red wine, chocolate and a Ryan Gosling movie. Perfect Friday night.

Perfect minon

So, on the mental health front, my spiritual mentor sent me a note about her secret garden. Here is my check-in in response on Friday morning:

 

I love secret gardens and when I read this, my mind conjured up this big walled, ivy-shrouded place, where there are deep dark green trees, whose leaves whisper in the breeze, and fragrant bushes and a clearing with a lush green meadow and wild flowers and a  murmuring stream running through and the sun tickling the tip of my nose and the smell of damp, fertile earth and goodness. Aah – mental holidays. Makes me smile.

I had a good day yesterday, work is less busy, my presentation went well and everyone seems to be less stressed. The beginning of the summer low. I met with my therapist and we spoke about self-esteem. In my aftercare group on Wednesday, the therapist challenged me to find esteem-able acts to do for myself and I came up empty handed. Self esteem – means knowing and feeling the worthiness of oneself undoubtedly and feeling love for self. I am unsure how to practise that.

Today, I am a bit unsure what to do with myself. I don’t have pressing deadlines, but have a few things to tackle. It seems, now that the pressure has eased, my drive slacks too. I have been looking at houses for Max and I to buy in Germany. I found a few nice ones, unfortunately in the wrong locations. I feel that there might be compromises coming our way in where or what we’re getting.

I’m anxious about dinner with friends we have planned for tomorrow eve, they’re all bringing a cheese per couple (there is 3 couples plus us) and we already have a starter, main and dessert and I just want to learn from my mistakes in the past, where alcohol and carelessness have led to me overeating and feeling crap afterwards. I did have food plans then and the fear of missing out was so strong that I ate more and once I had gone over my food plan I had this ‘fuck it’ attitude and just ate more and more. I didn’t like how I felt the next day/week at all. Maybe my plan was too strict (hah, who am I kidding – I was greedy and wanted more though I didn’t need it). It’s tough to stick to a plan. I will mentally go through what I will be eating and how much and I will stick to it (might text someone in OA after each of the courses).  

 I am a commitment to balance.