I have had a couple of days of emotional eating. Yesterday I stopped charting my food intake in the evening and I felt like I had just given up again. This morning I got up with the full intention of staying only with healthy foods and working out.
After having a very healthy breakfast I went outside to start with the yardwork. Our new lawnmower had started on fire yesterday while I was at the hospital with my Dad, so I knew I had to take it back to the store to return it. That done, it was the chore of putting the mower handle together (not that difficult, but more of a challenge than I was looking forward to) and get the rest of the lawn mowed.
That achieved, I headed to the one thing I had wanted to get done this weekend. Weed whacking. -- yes, get the yard looking good again. With that achieved, and also reassembling my weed whacker that fell apart mid whacking, I decided to pull a few weeds. By the time I was finishing with one of the flower beds, I was beginning to drag my butt.
Noticing that the afternoon had slipped away and I hadn't planned anything for dinner, we decided to order pizza. Usually this is not a huge thing for me. I like pizza, but I am able to eat 1 or 2 pieces and I am good. Since I hadn't had lunch, I was really hungry. So I knew I was heading for the one way street going the wrong direction. However, here is the wonderful part of this story. I realized part way through the apple pie pizza dessert that I was just feeding all the emotions that have been building up all weekend. I stopped. Yes, I stopped = right then and there = I stopped.
And of course I didn't have to dig very deep to know what was going on. My Dad is extremely sick. He is 87 years old. What are the chances that he can pull through pneumonia and congestive heart failure at his age. Oh don't get me wrong. I am not giving up, nor is he. But I am just preparing myself for the battle and if he loses, I am also getting myself prepared for this.
So as I was sitting and stuffing my emotions, I was also thinking how awful it is to finish a good life by slowly feeling your life force and you heart giving up before your will to live gives up. My Dad is terrified. I can see it in his face. He is depressed and he is sad. And I know he is lying in that hospital bed and he is angry that no one will help him get up and help him get his strength back. And who knows, maybe he is right.
Well, I am not sure where to put all of these emotions. But I do know that feeding them is not the answer. Perhaps working out more would help. And tomorrow is another day.