The sun will come out

Yesterday, I was having a pity party.  It was rainy and cold, gray outside. It was one of those days when I wanted to just stay in my cave, so to speak.  But I had to go out.  I had a lunch date with a friend (who also happens to be my pastor).

During lunch, I told him that, since Dad died, I just don't belong anywhere anymore; I just am not needed anywhere anymore.  He looked at me and said "I understand what you are saying, Sue.  But you do realize that this isn't actually true, right?"  This sort of stopped me short.  He then asked me what I needed to make me feel better.  I said "Sun".

This reminded me of a couple of things that I had misplaced in my mind lately.  First, that what I feel does not necessarily reflect the reality of a situation. How many times have I thought "I'm fat!" when I am at a weight that I was proud to be at several points in my life.  I sure didn't feel fat then!  My feeling unconnected and unnecessary also did not reflect the reality of my life.  It was a valid feeling, but not true.

Also, I was reminded that I need sunshine. I get gray inside when it is gray and cold outside.  But the sun will come out - if not tomorrow, then eventually.  And I will feel better.  Eventually. 

So I came home with a few different ideas in my head.  I can't say that I stopped the pity part.  I didn't.  But I knew that these feelings, like any feelings, were temporary.  Transitory.  And valid.  I could probably have found something in the house to eat that would numb these feelings, but knowing that they were valid made that unnecessary.  And knowing that I'm doing OK on my grief journey comforted me. 

As I sneak up on some answers to the question "Now what?", I need to keep these things in mind.  That my emotions, while valid, are not always believable.  And that the sun will come out eventually.  To reference a book my friend was reading, those who have never known "down" cannot appreciate "up". 

I was wrong

On May 9, I wrote that it was ME time.  Apparently, I was wrong.  Since Dad died on April 17, I have pretty much spent the whole time sitting on the couch and eating.  Granted, I was sick for a week during that time.  But the other 5 weeks?  Nope, just eating.

Today, I read a blog about a woman who lost a crap load of weight.  Her methods sound very much like Medifast, but the method was not the AHA part of the message.  What was the point of the blog?  Sugar addiction in its many forms.  Once again, I was understanding how sugar addiction affects my life.  Whether it is in the form of sugar or wine, it has my by the throat.  Argh.

So, once again, I am on the sugar free, low carb band wagon.  Actually, I never really left it - I have known for some time that my body works best eating by low carb, no sugar, no dairy and no gluten. But getting there is a struggle sometimes. 

I do fine until noon.  I get up, read the paper while drinking my black coffee, do my crossword puzzles, make breakfast at 9, take a shower around 10 and walk the dog.  At 12 I eat lunch.  But this is where I fall down.  Sometimes I eat lunch (my bagged salads that I have in the fridge).  Sometimes, I don't.  Sometime early afternoon my son gets up and either stays or leaves.  Either way, it confuses me.  If he stays home, he wants to control the tv and I cook some dinner.  If he leaves, then I am left alone, lonely, and lost.  No matter what HE does, I have a problem in the afternoons.  I always plan to make a sensible dinner (God how I HATE that word!), but by the time it is time for dinner, I have snacked my way into oblivion.  So I don't eat.  But by this time, my belly hurts and I continue on my quest to try to "fill the hole" or to make my body hurt as much as my heart does.

Looking back on this, I see sugar's ugly head lurking around the corner.  Sure, the sesame seed crisps and veggie straws have no gluten.  But they DO have sugar.  And I have several bottles of wine that might need drinking as well.  And once I start on either one of these, I don't stop until I run out or pass out. 

Well, it is June 1.  Seems like a good time to start taking care of myself.  I won't die from the anxiety of not eating sugar or drinking wine.  I won't die from anxiety at all.  Next week, I will begin to start making a plan.  It's time.  I need to start looking for a job or finding out what I need to do in order to do this.  I will make an appointment tomorrow at the college to go look at what I need to do to update my skills to a marketable level. 

But I can't sit and eat for the rest of my life.  My journey, so far, has been to embrace a program and lose a bunch of weight.  Then gain exactly half of it back.  Then embrace a new concept and lose a bunch. Then gain half of THAT back.  True, if you look at the math involved, I am always ahead of the game.  But it's not good for my body or my spirit.

This time, I'm really not so much looking at the weight loss aspect as much as I am looking at the health aspect of it all.  I need to learn to use food as fuel primarily and comfort myself in other ways.  I keep thinking I have learned these things and then POW the sugar thing hits me in the face and I'm on a tear again.  This is where I am.  But I am 30 lbs up from where I was, and walking the dog today I was winded and tired.  And my new fat pants are too tight.  So it's time.  Again.  Time to get rid of these particular inflammatory substances and make my body a machine again.  And to feel like actually DOING something. 

It's just freaking time.