This weekend was mostly dark and angry but I didn’t let it rule me and I found ways, which in some cases were fairly natural now, of not losing my temper or pecking anyone’s eyes out. But my abstinence took the biggest hit.
Friday I worked a full day, had physical therapy for my wrists and thumbs (really not the brightest idea to type this blog on my cell phone, I know) mother insisted since I promised to do the shopping on Fridays that I needed to do that. I understand her point; she makes out a list based on the sales and spends a food part of her day doing that. My plans fell through for Saturday so I figured I could just stay in….I think you know how my relationship with my mother works. Mother demands and daughter angrily abides. I hate myself for not holding my ground. My reason to her was sound but she wouldn’t hear it.
I came home with food she got out of bed and was just all happy (and feeling so much better physically and willing to eat junk food on her tortured intestinal tract telling me how wonderful I should feel for doing everything I prided to do blah blah I wish I could do everything I set out to do blah blah blah. I tried to explain to her several times how doing that undid all the good physical therapy did and she thought that was a good thing. I had to explain to her again and again. And it just occurred to me I’m not really helping myself to recount the angery exchange when my goal was to illuminate the darkness I’d experienced over the weekend. So that was the ignition. And though it wasn’t a raging flame it was an intense long burn kind of fire and lasted all weekend. Well until S’mores.
I have become acutely aware of how sugar effects mood. This is the second time I’ve become blindingly aware of this effect from sugar. I love it. But no matter how much the wife loves her abusive husband she needs to leave for her own preservation.
I don’t want sugar to be on my abstinence program. I want to be able to eat birthday cake on my birthday or pecan pie at Thanksgiving. I don’t want…I don’t want to be a slave to it for emotional balance either. That’s what the Lexapro, Buspar, and yes, even Xanax are for. I don’t know what to do because I really don’t want to give up anything yet, some days I don’t believe I’ve been blessed with the level of desperation needed to take that first step out of the epicurean forest and then when I have clarity on some days I don’t think it’s bad enough to jump on the abstinence wagon and hold on for dear life either. Even though that’s exactly what I am suppose to be doing.