FullaBella's Journal, 28 Jun 13

Yesterday was a day that pushed every single button I had including a few extras in the sewing box. In my dysfunctional approach for dealing with emotions I turned the rage inward. Anything to stop screaming obscenites and pounding the steering wheel.

Naturally such a day overflowing with emotional challenges coincided with the husband asking me to pick up some ice cream for him. Of course. The peach pie, strawberry cheesecake, chocolate pudding, fruit cocktail jello, three muskateers and mega stuffed oreo cookies already in the house aren't enough. He's getting low on vanilla chocolate swirl ice cream and requested chocolate, vanilla AND strawberry - half gallon each. And NO, neopolitan is not an option.

The hits just kept on coming via a disapproving look from the slender, appropriately attired well coiffed woman I caught staring at me in the store. My trip outside my home had been a 'last minute throw on whatever' outing due a miscommunication of 'who was taking the grandson to driver's ed'. Standing with 3 half gallons of ice cream in my arms, well, it didn't take the amazing Kreskin to read her mind. She was practically blinking morse code as she judged me guilty of sloth & gluttony. More buttons.

Walking by the really cool trendy flavors in the Braums freezer - chocolate cheesecake, snickerdoodle, amaretto cherry just to name a few - I felt it. The desire to get a 1/2 gallon for myself and toss in a bag of those chocolate peanut clusters and as long as we're at it may as well get a double cheeseburger and have some.... well, you can finish the list.

The formation of a binge and purge plan. Not for hunger, craving or indulgence. Purely to feel SOME sort of control while multitasking and causing pain. To myself, but at least, I was in charge of something. I really wasn't wanting any of it but binging and purging broccoli and brussels sprouts just doesn't carry the same ... allure?

I didn't do it. One of the things I do though, simply to escape my own thoughts, is disconnect and explore seemingly unrelated topics. For example, I began thinking were I to stop at a bar and have several drinks no one would have given me a second glance - except the husband when I staggered in with the melted ice cream.

It's been a while but if memory serves over indulging the addiction of alcohol is so much more socially acceptable than overindulging food. It seemed only the mother's got mad; everyone else scorned the single shot sipper. Moderation with liquor brought the same look of disapproval as ordering a second dessert. Weird. Something about that thought made me want to turn on my heel and head back into the store. But I didn't.

I got out of there with just the things on the list, drove home and worked through the emotions out in the garden. I prayed gratitude that it wasn't raining although I was out there so long I think the rose bed may have been a little over watered.

Experience of my rebellious wild child, the one who seems dead set on her intent to prove me a failure whenever I post my achievements fueled reticence to journal and share this publicly. Faith that the strength I found to survive last night will reappear when needed encourages me to ignore the hesitation.

I suppose in the cliffhanger that is my life, you will just have to tune in tomorrow.

That is, if you're curious to know what happens next. I know I am.

Bella