Last night, I was laying in bed, analyzing my eating habits. I think most people have their "skinny" jeans for when you're in better shape, and then there's the "fat" jeans for Thanksgiving. Newsflash: My "fat" jeans don't fit. That is a huge blow to my self esteem, and my reality. Even though life is going great, I feel healthy, I'm recovering quickly, and I have minimal discomfort, still, I think I'm emotionally eating.
I'm not trying to complain about feeling fat (which I do). I'm just trying to figure out why I'm eating more than I need to. It's a slippery slope when it comes to gaining weight, and if I don't nip it in the butt I'm just going to spiral down into a funk which will probably cause me to overeat, and then sink further.
I've gotten back into working out, and I've been increasingly active. I eat very healthy foods, but when it comes down to it I'm eating way more than I'm needing to. I wish I was the kind of woman that lost weight during a crisis, but that has never been my style.
I've been trying to be positive about my situation, and do the best I can in my daily life, but I think my unknown future is silently tearing me up inside. I can't plan beyond October 12th. I can't plan where I'll be for Thanksgiving because I don't know if I'll be receiving treatment. I can't plan for my future and my dreams with Danny. I don't know if I'll be able to have children because I don't know if I'll be healthy enough. Even if I do get a clean bill of health for a period of time, I know the tumor will come back, or possibly progress into cancer. How could I be so selfish to have children, or a family, never knowing if I'm going to be a burden, or possibly not even be around. My life is cut into three month segments, at minimum for two years, and after that I'll have four month segments for Lord only knows how long. I can only imagine that if Danny and I were ever to want children, we would never risk getting pregnant because my health is shaky and uncertain - which would be such a shame since a little Danny would be adorable! I don't know how to reconcile the concept of wanting to dream, and yet being afraid of being disappointed by my reality.
When I was in the ICU I shared the room with several different patients. There were only two to a room, and since I was in there for almost a week I had a revolving door. Lots of different situations, all incredibly sad. One of the patients was a woman who had just lost her baby. The sobbing of that woman was that of a wounded animal. It still haunts me. Another patient was going through cancer treatment, and had taken a turn for the worst. She had been diagnosed with cancer while pregnant and she decided to carry the baby to term, even though the doctors told her and her husband that she needed treatment immediately to survive. The woman chose to hold off on treatment, and kept the baby. She died a couple of weeks after the baby was born. Insanely sad stuff. Now, I know that I'm borrowing trouble (one of my dad's favorite sayings) but these fears are my reality.
I think I'm overeating because I'm suppressing my fears, or at least trying to suppress them. I keep trying to be positive, and healthy, but I think I'm acting out. I don't know how to truly get a grip on what's happening inside me. This is the most challenging time of my life, and I don't see things changing for a very long time. Maybe my life is just going to be exceedingly challenging. Maybe that's what I'm realizing. I guess I just need more tricks up my sleeve to combat this new reality. Stuffing my fears is just causing me to stuff my face.
