I am, is a powerful statement.

Oh man. It's Monday.

It's like tearing off that top sheet of paper on your notepad and starting fresh. All your notes, doodles, small to do list, quotes, etc. from last week can be thrown out.

Saturday, my middle child, Xzavier was baptized. What a wonderful day. It was a beautiful ceremony. His is probably the most put together service we’ve had in our family. It was in creditably uplifting. I was a little emotional.

* I am an emotional eater.

On this wonderful day we celebrated. I didn’t want to go out to eat. My sweet husband went to pick up Chili’s to go. Wowzers at the size of the meal! I did save half of it for Sunday. It still was way to much food. Why are protions so crazy? Why are we so desensitized to it?

I am.

I can make that sentence into a thousand things, and all of them be true.

I am a Mother.

I am a wife.

I am depressed.

I am exhausted.

I am overweight.

I am making a change.

See the thing is, emotional eating.. I eat when I’m celebrating. I eat when I’m upset. I eat to reward myself for a job well done. I eat to punish myself for my shortcomings.  Food is what is at the center of every emotion I feel.

I’ve been on such a high note this past week. Monday – Saturday. Sunday however, that old familiar friend visited me. Depression. My kids wouldn’t do their chores this past week. So I got them up on Sunday and told them it had to get done before church. Let the bickering, cranky, and griping commence.

We’re a household of 7. Yes, I am a stay at home mom. Let me tell ya, I’m not wonder woman. I’ve met wonder women. I sit in awe of them. I cannot keep up with everyone’s messes by myself. I get overwhelmed. So the struggle began. I started feeling that familiar exhaustion seeping in. I didn’t want to go to church anymore. I didn’t want to go out of the house. I wanted to go curl up in bed and let the day pass.

We did go to church. Just for the first hour. Then came home to more bickering. I found comfort in my friend, New York Cheesecake. Sugar is my best friend. Always there for me. It was left over from the dinner we held on Friday. I usually send it home with our guests, but this time there wasn’t enough to spilt between them. I’m at the point in my habit changing, that if it’s in the house, I find it incredibly hard to resist. I don’t feel any better after I eat it. If anything, I feel worse. Yet, I do it anyway.

So today is Monday. Fresh sheet of paper.

I am a work in progress.

I am persevering.

I am flawed.

I am forgiving myself and moving forward.

I am owning my decisions.