Life is a Beautiful,Chaotic Mess

Is blogging a dying thing?  So many bloggers I used to follow are silent now and in a selfish way, its sad for me because I draw inspiration from others.  My reading list is stagnent and I get it, sometimes I don't feel like blogging, usually that's when I'm not proud of how I'm eating.  I am trying to break that mentality, the "good" and "bad" of diet-speak, but it has been ingrained from such an early age that it is hard to break.  In my mind, I am only really doing good for myself if I am eating a dark, green leafy salad.  I have never been a fan of black-and-white thinking, but where food is concerned, it is drilled and drilled into us until it becomes a part of who we are. 
My brand of normal, or what I always seem to slip back into naturally, is around 80/20 if I had to estimate.  80% of the food I eat is productive, and 20% is just empty calories.  Maybe it's more if I take the weekends into consideration, or Saturday at least.  I let myself relax around food and I still have this guilty feeling that gets triggered by eating sweet stuff.  Yes, I know what it does to my body and it isn't good for my body, but there is definitely a psychological aspect to the restriction.  I am great a restriction to a point; my brain has to be completely committed to it because there are too many things that come up, like a daytrip or holidays or retirement parties, etc.  Every week there is something, right?  My mind has been filled up with other stuff and ultimately that is a choice, but it hasn't really been making me feel good physically. 
I will admit, I have other stuff on my mind lately.  My sister and I have been talking lately and I even had a nice visit with her last weekend. 

Me on the left with my older sister around 1979'ish

She lives 90'ish miles away from me and it has been more than a year since I've seen her.  Busy?  Yep, both of us, but it has more to do with my own stuff from times past.  We fought a lot when we were young, I mean, we have scars from fighting like boys.  We were tough kids being raised in a family where there was not enough of what we needed: attention, nuturing, support, praise, warmth...we took it out on each other a lot of times.  We have had periods of closeness, but only on a certain level.  We never really talked deeply about our childhood and our parents, one an alcoholic, one detached,with mental health issues.  I grew up feeling like I had my gloves to my face, always on the defense, never letting anyone too close, even my own sister.  It has marred some of my relationships along the way, and I am truly grateful for those who have stood by me and gave me understanding, despite me not being "normal" in relationships always.  My poor husband, after 16 years of knowing each other, is just now begining to feel the scope of what my childhood was like and what my parents are like.  It has been a little unsettling for him, because other than his parents fighting and eventually divorcing, he had a fairly normal, well-adjusted childhood and his parents are the kind of parents others are envious of, they are really just awesome people, so warm and loving/nuturing/supportive.  Anyway, my visit with my sister was good, and I think we are both begining our own healing journey which will bring us closer.  I sometimes have to remind myself that, even though we didn't feel the same growing up, we did go through the same stuff together.  She didn't grow up feeling particularly bad about life, I did.  Now she feels bad about what we went through and I am starting to accept and heal things, realizing my parents' issues are not mine and I don't have to accept the burden of them anymore.  They are both still alive and I love them, but I take credit for fixing what has been broken in me from the start.  Getting through some of that will be what helps me fix my relationship with food.
I found something that really sums everything up for me.  Mental peace, which will lead to food-peace, goes directly through facing and overcoming my past hurt. 

In college I had a philosophy professor who described the process of grasping a concept for the first time.  He described it as a labor, with varying stages messy chaos and he said the most messy chaotic part is what you go through right before you have your magical moment of clarity, the shining, beautiful moment you understand and grasp the good stuff.  I think I am in the murk of the messy chaos right now.  I know the only way to get to that beautiful stuff on the other side is to endure the mess and keep moving through it.  "The only way out is through." Robert Frost