Sometimes the hardest thing the world is to pull out my journal and actually write down what I eat. It's not hard to go into the kitchen, look for food, find something I probably shouldn't have, take it out, and bring it into the living room and eat it front of the TV.
As I was thinking about writing this post,I realized I was at least a day behind in journaling. Of course, before I could write this. I had to pull the journal out and catch up. I did the best I could, but I think I might've forgotten a few things. And of course that's the attraction in not journaling, the ability to forget.
It's not that I had anything terrible really, it's just that I haven't been as careful as I should be to have the things I should have and not to have the things that shouldn't. I'm not binging exactly. I'm just not being careful.
I'm not sure why when I know that journaling works, and I know that not doing it doesn't work, that I keep doing the things that don't make sense. It is just too much trouble to journal, too much trouble to plan meals, too much trouble to cook the meals I plan, too much trouble to keep groceries in the house, too much trouble to clean up afterward.
In short I'm making excuses, and I'm not sure why really, because the stuff isn't that hard, doesn't need to be so hard, and I know the results are worth it. Maybe I'm not so sure that I'm worth it.