Well, that’s at least how it’s felt to me this last week.
My first Whole30 was really only a Whole29. On the last day, my husband and I had a rare evening alone, went to the movies and decided hot, buttered movie theatre popcorn was totally worth giving up a day early.
It wasn’t.
Since then, we’ve completed two successful Whole30s and, when baby Louie was only about a month old, I managed a Whole14 before giving up. The funny thing was, as soon as I chucked in the towel, I actually ate within the Whole30 guidelines for, like, a month. As in, 30 days.
Personally, I like the strictness of the Whole30. I like the rules. It forces me to check in with my snacking, my paleo “treats” (which aren’t really a treat if you eat them, oh say, everyday) and it gets me back on track with meal planning and prep. It makes me examine how/when/if I’m using food as a crutch, which is old behaviour I’m happy to leave behind.
So last week, when I started a Whole30, my first for 2013, on Tuesday, I was raring to go. Monday night, I’d written out my big goals for the next 10 years and was feeling pumped. Focused. I started Tuesday off with a wicked training session with my new PT Jade, from Adventure Personal Training. Running on the beach, lifting rocks, climbing trees and just generally monkeying around left me sore but happy.
But Tuesday afternoon, my three year old took a nap. As Scooby Doo would say “Ruh-roh!” He never naps. And while I was glad for the extra special down time, I was nervous about what was coming.
What was coming was puke. And lots of it. He barfed in his tea that night, seemed OK on Wednesday but then spent Wednesday night throwing up in buckets and racing to the toilet. Louie didn’t get sick (thank you magic boob juice!) but he did wake up lots and by Thursday morning, I was a bleary eyed mess.
When Elliot woke up asking for toast, I gave in and sent my mother-in-law out for some gluten free rye sourdough that Elliot’s always been able to eat without much problem. Me, not so much. Even one piece generally makes me feel pretty gross. But did that stop me? No, no it did not. I ate a piece.
Then Thursday night, I ate another piece. Friday morning, I ate some more. Then some chocolate. Paleo chocolate, mind you, which is different from normal chocolate because…it costs more?!? Really, it’s a different kind of sugar and has higher quality ingredients but affects your body pretty much the same way. Then I drank lots of coffee, and put SUGAR in it! Oy vey!
By Sunday, I was tired, cranky, and feeling snowed under. Like “How will I accomplish any of my goals in life? What was I thinking??” To some of you this will seem dramatic. To those of you who have ever suffered depression, it will not, because that’s what happens. You very quickly go from feeling on top of the world to feeling like you just wanna crawl into bed for a week.
I managed my depression for years with a rather hefty dose of Effexor, and at that time in my life it was the best choice. These days, I manage it through eating paleo and “aggressive self care”. Except when I don’t. When I do things like eat rye bread and excessive sugar. I understand if this sounds extreme. There are times it makes me really angry and I whinge about it being unfair. Then I get over myself and focus on how lucky I am that I have a treatment plan that works when I work it.
In retrospect, there were a lot of reasons this Whole30 didn’t really pan out. I hadn’t planned any meals. Seeing as I’m an old pro, I can just wing it, right? WRONG! Then I let my crappy week become an excuse for suboptimal food choices. It’s not like I had to eat those things. I chose to, knowing full well how it would affect me. And I didn’t start again immediately, which would have been the easiest option.
So now I do what I have to do. I stop. Take a deep breath. Press reset. Start again.
Whole30 watch out…your ass is mine!
