I really have to get my head on straight with the emotional eating. I was upset Friday afternoon after hearing from Evan's A.P. Evan was in trouble. So what did I do? Eat everything in sight. Did it make me feel better? No, Honestly, it was just something to do in a situation where there was nothing else to do. I had to wait for our official Monday morning meeting before there could be any resolve. Assuming that the husband and I would show up for a meeting and agree on some lunch time detention for what ever time the school seemed appropriate, I planned on regaining some semblance of control Monday.
Except the meeting did not go as I had imagined it would. It was bad people, and the only thing I can think is that the school has decided to make some kind of "example" out of Evan's poor choices. Not only did they suspend Evan, but Evan's home room teacher wrote it on the board "Evan - suspended" effectively announcing it to the entire eighth grade. I feel like Evan is being persecuted. So naturally, I ate over it. Because eating like that makes no sense at all, so why not, right?
Essentially, I took another long look at my eating under any circumstance and for all occasions and I think it goes something like, maybe I think I am not supposed to emote anything at all because I am supposed to just be like decoration or something (Children should be seen and not heard. My mom used to tell me this all of the time. Then she'd pretend that it is what "other" people actually said. hahaha. Not.) and not make a fuss or ask for any attention or do anything that might take mom's attention away from dad. Pretty much my childhood was spent with a lot of eating quietly, all by myself, and no one would need to be there or anything, so no one ever noticed the eating part, only the chubby part, and no one ever said "Hey, let's take a walk instead of cramming cookies into your mouth" or anything like that because being a quiet non intrusive eater was better than being someone who required parenting. To me eating meant getting something, eating was my conversation, my validation, my comfort, my companion, being on the receiving end, even though the something I really wanted all the time was human.
Yeah, right about now my childhood baggage is making my adulthood awfully difficult especially since I've decided that I don't wanna be fat any more.
All weekend I ended up eating stuff I shouldn't ever go near because of the gall bladder situation. But after a whole weekend (and Monday) of nibbling, noshing and grabbing greasy fatty gall bladder seizing stuff here and there I ended up with another attack last night. I felt it coming on when I went to bed and decided to try to grab some sleep before it got to bad. After about an hour I was awake and going through the whole pain routine. The whole ordeal never got as bad as the other two episodes, but it was bad enough for me to be up a couple of hours in the middle of the night. I thought and thought about the vicodin sitting on my bathroom sink for a "just in case" episode and I couldn't bring myself to take one because I have no experience with pain killers (not since Matt's c-section, those were by injection, and I passed out with each one) and I was afraid I would sleep through my alarm clock in the morning if I took a pain killer. Luckily the pain leveled off before I considered jumping out the window and then it and subsided.
I cancelled my stretcher appointment for today. Took the kids to school, came home and went back to bed until 12:30. Then I was having some kind of dehydration issue so I sat here for two hours pretty much drinking hot soothing tea until I sloshed when I moved. I was sore in the gall bladder spot until this afternoon.
Going to sleep at night has taken on a whole new fear factor dimension for me.
Tomorrow I am having an abdominal MRI. When I went to the good doctor to talk about the gall bladder issue he noticed that I hadn't followed up on a liver hematoma that was spotted a few years ago. I decided that my liver was just fine and didn't care to drink contrast more than every few years. Now I can kill two birds with one stone. (Or check on two issues with one MRI.) I am considering bringing a little tiny umbrella with me for the contrast cocktail. Do you think that will go over well?
I've been playing phone tag with the new new undead therapist for a couple of weeks now. I'd like to get in there and do and say what ever it is that I need to do and say to move beyond the whole eating issue. I wish I was one of those people who naturally eats to live.
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