Recovering Grace, One Meal at a Time

For tonight, back to the present for a bit. I had a Very Good Thing happen tonight and I'm proud of me!

First, I have been obsessing less and less over food as time has gone by. I don't exactly forget to eat, but I don't actively think about it constantly so I am occasionally surprised by hunger, sometimes intense hunger. (Um, and while that sounds good, it isn't necessarily good - intense hunger can lead to some intense eating, if one isn't prepared to slow down and think before consumption.) Today was one of those days, but I managed to take a moment and figure out what I wanted vs. what I had on hand to make, and didn't binge or overeat from it.

But second, and even more surprising, was what happened after dinner tonight. I had my meal and I was fairly full, not uncomfortably so, but full. Beloved husband wanted to go out for ice cream and I agreed. I got two scoops of something yummy and it was truly blissful, but... I scraped my way through the first couple of layers and then - well, I was just done. It was delicious and I might have kept going but it occurred to me that I didn't want to be overstuffed and miserable. That I was content with what I had already had and that I didn't have to finish it. It wasn't guilt or the shoulda/wouldas or getting to the state that I call "stuffed stupid." I made a choice to not be unhappy.

It has taken me so long to have this moment, to have this moment and realize that I was having it. That I have come this far and that I can keep going, and that I'm really going to be okay.

These moments rock.

And would you believe that it actually gets better? Because, yeah, it really does...

I have just come off of a really rough week. Three dentist visits, three days in a row, two separate root canals, hours of pain and then pain meds which made me sick and anxious and which have apparently hampered the effects of my antidepressant. (That's why you try to avoid taking NSAIDs on these kinds of meds.) I have been deeply depressed since last week. Like, not being able to sleep depressed, not wanting to get off of the couch depressed. And on top of that I was experimenting with reducing my dose by half a pill for the past couple of weeks anyway. Oh, so depressed...

I have been craving comfort food. I have prepared it, too, and gone out for it sometimes, and kept it to sane portions. I have not binged. It hasn't really even occurred to me to do so. Today I spent the first half of the day staring off into space and wondering why I can't cry and when faced with two giant scoops of chocolate peanut butter buckeye, I chose to not be (physically) miserable.

Can you be both depressed and proud at the same time? Apparently, yes you can.