A funny thing happened on my way to writing this post

I've been taking a break from my blog, stepping back and trying to figure out what is wrong with me.

As I do with most things in my life, I was over-analyzing my binging problem. To the point where I was becoming obsessed by it.

I was posting the same thing every day. I binged, I didn't binge, I wanted to binge, I need to stop binging, I don't know how to stop binging, what is wrong with me?! Over and over I repeated the same words. If I didn't actually post them, they were running through my head.

Then I'd talk a good talk: "I can do this!" "I'm going to do this!" "This will work!"

When truthfully, I'd fallen and couldn't get up. None of my grand schemes worked on me. The more I worried about it, the worse it became.

I had all sorts of theories about the reasons for my binging: my husband doesn't love me enough, my father died when I was 12, I was spoiled by my mother to make up for not having a father, I was use to getting what I wanted, my job is stressful. Or my personal favorite, I have some sort of mental disease, and I'm addicted to food.

I've been mucking about for the last few days, trying to figure out my problem, when this post by a very courageous lady named Velda popped up:

The Climb and Sometimes the Fall, My story of lung cancer that's gone to my head.

I read Velda's post, along with the last few posts that I'd missed.

Then I thought to myself, what the hell am I complaining about? Honest to God, I don't know anymore.