This is scary but I am focusing on living and not on what I eat or don't eat. Which is scary because how am I going to know if I'm OK or not? Am I going to blow up even more than I already have? Or is this the solution? I got tagged in a photo on face book and was horrified. Actually that's not the right word; I was so bloated that I was almost impressed by my disguise! Wow. That's what I thought, with a certain amount of awe.
Yesterday I met with a financial guy to begin the process of dealing with my money situation. Today I met with my counsellor for the second time since Margie's passing and we agreed that I can keep on keeping on without therapy for the time being. (I know.... and no, she hasn't read this blog.) After I picked my daughter up from school, we went to the park and sat in the sun with the baby and she played and ran until she was plum tuckered out. I just thought about breathing and being outside and noticing things and appreciating things.
There's the tremor of panic that hums through me occasionally: the fear that if I am not trying to control my food intake in some way, then I am doomed. But there is a photographic evidence trail that flies in the face of that premise. The facts appear to be that the whole time I've been trying to control my food, I have been gaining hugely enormous blobs of fat. It's a wonder my skin still fits.
So... whatever. I can't do this any more. I have to switch my focus and address what's going on in my life.
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