Uhh…I was in the middle of drinking the cleanse for life drink (which tastes horrible btw) and I was doing well before that. Not hungry. Not light-headed. Feeling physically on top of stuff, with the skin glowing and the feeling of overall health.
Before that, something happened that I was not too happy with. In a way I was asking for it. I decided to be direct and ask a person a direct question, which I knew he would dodge. And I bought that cookie and those chips two days before…of course, they were made from organic ingredients, but it’s still not allowed on my cleanse day! It’s like I was subconsciously plotting my own health assassination.
So in the middle of gulping down the yellow cleanse liquid, I put it down and tore through my pantry stuffing all manner of random things in my mouth. Then, realizing the madness, I put everything down and gulped down the rest of the yellow cleanse liquid. My God, what’s come over me? I was feeling fine. Not hungry. Not craving anything in particular…Doing the cleanse…
The only conclusion I can come to is that it’s attached to my emotion. Now the question: Did I use the emotion as an excuse to eat? Or did I eat because of the emotion? I think the latter is true, but you never know. And if I don’t know…who knows?
I talked with a really nice, motivational, insightful person today. I don’t know her too well, but I liked her immediately. She helped me to sort out some of my life. I didn’t like some of what she said. But a good lot of the things she told me just made sense. But I’m not willing to let go of a certain aspect of my life, even if it would be better for me. And this part kind of determines whether I should leave San Diego or not. The other parts of my life that are unacceptable are fixable and entirely doable…and I guess it doesn’t matter where all of that happens. I left the conversation feeling energized and excited about the parts of living that I believe I can fix. The one part that mattered to me most…I think that can be fixed also, but only after everything else is most likely.
For the first time in my life, I can’t just let someone go…This is worse than my divorce. At least my ex-husband understood that I would never be his friend again, although I would wish him well. He knew never to expect to see me again. I’m confused. I feel really stupid. It eats away at me daily. I feel like I can do something stupid at any moment…something stupid that will affect my life in a way I can’t recover from. Not killing myself, sillies. Most people already know how I feel about that.
Though I don’t have concrete answers yet, I’ve opened my view of life to other possibilities. But that one stupid thing…it’s a question mark that I’m having trouble living with. Wouldn’t it be easier if he were direct? Wouldn’t it be easier if he just told me to go away? But he’s not. So I stay. The silence leaves space for my hope. And it’s hope that keeps me here…Isn’t hope supposed to be a thing with wings? My hope is like a rock or a monte cristo sandwich in my stomach, giving me indigestion…and heartburn.
