This morning I had a playdate planned for my son. We’re leaving for NY in 2 days and I haven’t started packing, so deciding to go in the first place was questionable, but I did it because I didn’t want the kids to be cooped up for the whole day while I do laundry. I should have known that I was a little off today. I was doing some obsessing about my wardrobe and the way my stomach looked in the shorts I was wearing and the fact that my boobs have shrunk and whether or not this makes me look pregnant and blah blah blah. But I scooped everyone up, got in the car, got to the general area where I knew the place to be, went to take out my phone to get the exact address and did not have my phone.
What happened next was an abnormal reaction to a normal occurrence. People make minor mistakes like this all the time, but for me, it doesn’t feel minor. It feels like I am a fucking idiot. I wasn’t able to find the place, so I drove home with my son crying the whole way. Intellectually I’m thinking, “Well, he has to learn disappointment.” Emotionally I did not want to be the source of that disappointment. In my mind I start formulating the text to my friend to let her know what happened and realize that I am worried that she won’t believe me. What can I say to make her know I’m not lying? Mostly I have a mantra of sorts floating around my mind, “Wow, that was really stupid.”
And then I want to eat. What I picture is a bag of Oreos. I am 16 days into the Whole30 program and at this moment, blowing it over a bag of Oreos really seems like it might be a good idea. Then I think, “If only I were just doing the Paleo thing and not Whole30, I could at least tear into some dark chocolate. Maybe I should get an Italian sub for lunch. And I could make some chocolate chip cookies instead.” It goes on…
What I really want is to hoard a crap-ton of food, close the blinds and have a party for one. I want everything to disappear. I want no responsibilities. No children, no husband, no house to maintain, no goals to be working towards. Just me, the food, the TV and the internet. And here is where I have to be careful, because right after this, I want some wine.
That’s how I know I’m sick. I know this means it’s time for contrary action, but I don’t want to reach out. I want to be alone. I force myself to call my sponsor, but she can’t talk. This all seems so ridiculous that I can’t bear taking it to someone else right now. So I’m sitting here writing it out until I can get over myself and pick up the freaking phone.
And in writing this out, imagining someone reading this and relating, I get some strength because I want to do this for you. I don’t want to lie down and let this crap take me over. I want to get up and fight it just to show you it can be done. It’s hard and it sucks, but we can do it. We just can’t do it alone.