There’s been an overload of carbs and cheese lately, believing that my pain could be smothered in cheddar and deep fried deliciousness. Unfortunately, then I realize I feel even less motivated to do anything and trapped by my obsessing thoughts because I’m about to birth a food baby.
Then the tears come marching in, which momentarily leads to a full blown ugly cry. Time to call in the troops. At this point I usually spend the next several hours verbally processing with my support system. I laugh, cry, vent, blame and ultimately, accept my current choices. I really couldn’t get through this without them. It allows me to see different perspectives and pull myself out of the dangerous nostalgia that consists of failed expectations. I have had countless conversations filled with gratitude, love, appreciation, valuable insight, support, empathy and connection. My tears are short lived with so much love from all directions.
Tonight I needed more of a distraction than just conversations. My ex wanted to come drop some things off I left behind and I refused to see him for now. It took a lot of energy to resist and I needed another relationship to fill the void, but nothing intimate or romantic. I went to a friends house that has a family full of humorous, rediculous, entertaining interactions and a giant trampoline in her back yard. We chatted about big topics while I happily jumped my heart out like a bouncing Tigger. She knitted me more of my “love blanket” like a caring mother and her 22yr old son joked that he was going to infuse it with a little judgement in order to balance it out.
Me: Don’t infuse judgement, now it has to be cleansed.
22yr old: No, you need balance. It needs balance. You need balance. Are you gonna write this in your blog?
Me: Maybe. Why?
22yr old: Well, your writing is like that lady that wrote that Eat.Joy.Fuck book.
Me: You mean Eat.Pray.Love? Your name represents an entirely different book.
22yr: Yeah you write like her but there should be a book called Eat.Joy.Fuck
Me: Have you even read that book?
22yr: I’ve read pieces and a synopsis of it. I get the point.
Me: Well, thanks for sharing.
So, yeah, that’s been my night. It was gloriously imperfect and totally inappropriate. I loved every minute.