1,520 days. That's how long I've been counting. In those 1,520 days, I recorded every single morsel of food that went into my mouth. I recorded every single iota of beverage, of snack, of sweet.... everything that entered my body has been recorded for the last 1,520 days.
And it's been a constant weight in my brain, in my world, in my life.... but I did it. I counted everything. Up until now.
I recently spent two weeks traveling abroad, where counting my food was next to impossible. I tried, believe me, but it was way more complicated than anything I anticipate, so I had to press pause on the counting and recording. It's probably a good thing, because I spent much of my energy on the trip staying present and not losing my mind to anxiety.
Anyway. I'm home now. I've been home for a bit. And I'm not counting. And it's not easy. Not easy at all.
There's a small sense of relief that I no longer need to record every single bite that enters my body. Small. There's a large sense of anxiety that I will under eat, or over eat, or eat really, really badly, and since I have no record of that..... more anxiety.
But I'm gonna give it a go. A trial. My dietitian reminded me that we can see how it goes and adjust as needed. My therapist was thrilled. Supposedly letting go of counting calories will free up space in my brain for other, more positively helpful. I hope they're right.