Curly fries, trampolines, tears and unconditional love

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.

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