I walked into the kitchen hungry. And a little sad. "I just want a piece of toast...with butter." It seemed so simple, just do it. But this thing...commitment?...discipline? (qualities so unfamiliar to me) held me back. Maybe it was my body communicating to my mind from a deep recess. Just don't do it.
I was tired. Which was a bummer. The timing of my food and sleep last night was off. There was a game of Carcassonne involved. (We are teaching Cap how to play.) I focused on the memory of the delicious little kiwi I enjoyed at 10pm.
My breakfast plates look comical. A little sad, definitely simple. I probably ate more blueberries than I needed (but they are hard to deny) and I was satisfied after one dog (with guac I did not photograph because it had an unattractive layer of oxidized brown on it). (I discovered at dinner last night that hotdogs* dipped in guacamole is surprisingly satisfying and tasty.)
I guess it's always about one meal at a time. Kind of like one day at a time. Whether I like it or not (and I kind of don't), this portion of this story is shaping up to be one where addiction is showing up. It's not like being addicted to heroin, but the denial and shame are insidious.
30 days, 30 days...my new mantra.
Peace.
*Hotdogs, even "natural" hotdogs without sugar, preservatives, nitrates, etc. are, of course, not a whole food. They are providing me with convenient, emergency protein. I am looking forward to building/having more energy to cook/prepare increasingly wholesome food, soon! Meal planning is on the agenda today (I ate by the seat of my pants last week.)
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