Why am I NOT happy????

This is deep and dark...This is part of the "UGLY" I said might come.

I was supposed to be happy this weekend. I lost 100 pounds. I am wearing (right now) a size 4. But instead of smiles, there are only tears. And not tears of joy. We drove out to Sunriver on Saturday to check out the course that I would be running in the half marathon and I was kind of giddy over the fact that I officially saw that 150 on the scale. Food was NOT on my mind. Then DH decided he was hungry and we stopped at Wendy's to eat. That is when it started. My heart starts racing, my palms get sweaty and I seriously get sick to my stomach. What the hell am I going to eat at fast food. I know...just know... that the moment anything from that restaurant touches my lips I am going to gain back all of the weight. I am going to stand up from the booth an be back to 250 pounds. People are going to point and laugh. So I stood in front of the nutritional chart posted on the wall and stared at it. Reading EVERY single entry and wretching at the amount of calories in everything. Finally I settle on the ultimate grilled chicken sandwich (260 calories)...but I still think that is too high...so I order it plain. Yep...just the bun and the chicken breast. The lady behind the counter (who weighed at least 300 pounds) looked at me like I was crazy. I get my order and while DH is consuming his burger I am trying to convince myself that I can eat this and not get sick. 2 bites into it I through the top part of the bun away. I tell DH it is because it is going to get stuck because it is too bready, but in reality...I don't want the calories. I am afraid. Terrified. Panicked by this point.

We left and my mood had certainly soured. We got to Sunriver and DH went in and got something to drink at the local store. By this point I had calmed down some and we drove the course. By now the self doubt had crept in and I am thinking that there is no way in hell that I am going to be able to run this....though it is no harder than the canyon I run 4 times per week. Then the worst part of the weekend happened. We finished driving the course and we started walking around the town. We walked past one of the restaurants that is in this little shopping village and there is a very thin/petite woman eating an ENORMOUS bowl of pasta with cream sauce, then we walk past the ice cream shop and yet another thin woman was standing there eating ice cream, and finally on our way back to the car we passed the grocery store where a woman (very thin) was eating a snickers bar. I started crying and DH didn't have a clue what was going on. By the time we got to the car I was sobbing. Finally after catching my breath I told him that no matter how hard I worked, I would always be a fat woman. Even though I am thin on the outside, I am still FAT, and always will be a fat person on the inside. I am addicted to food. I can't eat just one candy bar...one plate of pasta...one ice cream cone. It won't stop there. DH of course didn't buy it until I threw out the phrase "Once an alcoholic...always an alcoholic." He kind of stopped short. He knew there was no point in arguing with me. I don't want to go back to the way of eating that I did before, but I also don't want to fear (like you fear a serial killer standing right in front of you) food forever. Will this feeling ever go away? The whole way back we were talking about the fact that I need to increase my calories, because I am afraid the PS will not do the TT if I am not at a stable weight. But I am resistant to increasing because of my HORRIBLE fear of gaining any weight. I want a magic number. That number where I know I won't gain or lose weight...and it doesn't exist. I had that magic number the entire time I was losing weight. If I was below 1000 calories...I lost. It was that simple. Now my safety net is gone. So basically I was sitting in the car throwing a temper tantrum. He says I have to eat 1800 calories...not under. Of course the entire time I am thinking how can I figure out a way to NOT eat that many...but stil knowing that I have to STOP losing weight. Then I figure if he makes me eat this much then I will just run more. But then I think... I don't want to lose any more weight...I just don't want to gain. I am perfectly fine where I am, but I just don't want to change. So the story gets worse. Skip forward to breakfast yesterday morning and we had waffles...Let's talk about a big baby coming out. I threw food...yep threw my turkey sausage across the kitchen because I freaked out over the calories in 1 waffle. What the fuck is wrong with me? Then the tears came....Like Niagra falls. I was on the floor in hysterics. And there was DH...just holding me and letting me cry. Yeah...I have a problem...you don't need to tell me. But we are broke...and I can't afford therapy. DH keeps telling me that gaining and losing 2-4 pounds is just something that I have to get used to...Well I don't know that I can. I gained all my weight 2-4 pounds at a time. I honestly don't believe that I am anorexic. I don't look fat to me. I don't want to keep losing weight...I just have this crippling fear that I am going to gain it all back. Maybe this is okay. Maybe this is just the reality that I have to accept. Maybe once I do that the anxiety this fear causes me will go away. Maybe accepting the fact that I will never be able to eat like a "thin" person and mourning that discovery, will lead me past all these awful fears and stop the crying.

I pretty much didn't sleep last night because I keep thinking about everything that happened this weekend. I had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I came to the conclusion that I am still fat...it just doesn't show on the outside...only on the inside...and I don't know which one is more dangerous. I am more obsessed with food now that I was before surgery. Before, my obsession with food came from a lack of caring about it....NOW it is ALL I think about. I need to figure a way to get a grip. I need to find the so called balance that DH keeps talking about. Great, I need to find a balance... Now how in the hell do I do that? I need people to stop telling me that I need to stop losing weight, or that it is fine to keep losing weight, because it isnt' about the weight anymore. This is about self destructive thinking. I HATE MAINTENANCE! I hate the way I feel. This really is wreaking havoc on me. I think this is why I am so tired all the time. I am always fighting a war...with myself...with food...with work...with running. Is this battle EVER over?