So much for getting it together
Monday night. Any semblance of order and self-control is gone at this point. I'm freaking out inside although I've been maintaining admirably well outwardly. I'm scared and I'm turning to (terrible) food as a comfort because, well, because I don't really have anything else that works as well. Sad, but true. Thirty-seven years of using food isn't the right thing, but it's keeping me sane and, at this point, that's about all I can hope for, I think. I know I need to stop, I know that I can, but not right now. Not until things are better with my dad. I just threw things into my suitcase and my prepared meals into bags, and threw the lot of it into the car. I haven't prepared in advance at all for being gone and I know that a lot of it is simply because I don't want to face this whole situation, but part of it is the disease of apathy, lethargy, and losing the will to want to improve. I have sparks of the old me (or is that the new me?) but I think she's tired of fighting this thing, at least for now. Right now, it's all about survival, kids, and it's not pretty.
And hey, at least you packed your meals!
Right now I think just getting through what you need to is a tad more important. Hang in there, you'll get through this, I know you can.
I hope that everything went well with your dad's surgery. And silverella is right, don't beat yourself up. You will get your focus back. We're all cheering for you.
"True hope dwells on the possible, even when life seems to be a plot written by someone who wants to see how much adversity we can overcome.
True hope responds to the real world, to real life; it is an active effort." - Walter Anderson