Our place has been a pit of despair of fighting and crying since Friday evening, and I am t-i-r-e-d. And sad. And worried. And so sick of thinking all the time about money and doing without for *my* diet, while buying him little treats here and there. That's not his fault; I tend to buy things for people when they're going through a rough spot, and he's been in a perma-rough spot for weeks. I think he's beaten down and depressed after the non-stop gogogo of the wedding, and I feel so helpless and horrible and unattractive and not good enough.
Yeah, I know this is supposed to be about my low-carb life. So, more on topic: I cheated. Totally cheated. Couldn't even make it half a week. And it wasn't even because I was craving or dying for a certain thing--I just looked at Jimmy Moore's menu, and felt sick at the prospect. I won't talk about what I had in specific terms--generally, it was pie, pizza, breaded stuff, bread--because it might sound too good later when I reread this. I *could* have done this day on plan. I could have. But I was so low, so depressed, and nothing was making me smile. I hate fighting...it breaks my heart...and though nothing serious has happened, my heart is hurting today. My family is out of town, or else I'd escape for a game night there...and the *only* thing in the house that I wanted, that would make me forget about the sadness for a moment, was food.
I never thought of myself as an emotional eater. I just ATE. But three years ago, Mom was diagnosed with lung cancer and given six months to live. She never smoked, so it was totally bullshit unfairness, but whatever. (It's not fair to anyone to get cancer, smokers and nonsmokers alike, so I rescind that remark. I certainly have a million bad habits of my own that could kill me.)
Anyway, she was pretty healthy, going a homeopathic route that didn't include chemo, so she was never sick from that procedure. But at about 5 months, the cancer began metastasizing, and the inevitable was beginning. It was fairly quick, and she chose Hospice over hospitals, and friends gathered around her 24/7, and it was really very wonderful to see all this love. But still...you know, worst time of my life ever. Nothing could make me happy, no distractions worked except sleep, and then it was horrifying to wake up INTO a nightmare every morning, instead of waking up FROM one. So I at first subconsciously, and then totally consciously, turned to food more than ever before. I was always fat, and had tried Atkins a couple years before this (and gained it back), and had kind of been trying to lose weight ever since, on various plans. But screw all that during those last couple months. The only moments I could lose the terrible sadness was when I brought home bags of fast food and sauces and rich desserts, laid them out on the coffee table, turned on Gilmore Girls, and forgot my life for a little while.
While I'm not comparing today to the experience of losing my mother, I reacted the same way. And I don't know if I've done that, consciously, since then.
Today sucked.
I hope tomorrow will be better. I want to stop crying. I feel like a baby and I get a headache.
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