Coming down

That demon inside that led me to buy sugary sweets is slowly getting scrunched back into the box. That wave of crabbiness is starting to ebb for which I'm grateful.

Sugar sensitive. I read a book on it once years ago and I've had various periods of proof that I have this.

In my first apartment, I was poor. Food was either what I could earn from the restaurant or what would get me the best bang for my few bucks. A bag of potatoes was cheaper and lasted longer than anything else. Generic box of Mac-n-cheese and hot dogs. Bread and milk rounded out the top five purchases. Now that I'm grown and I know what "carbs" mean.....Woooo doggies.  I finally lost it at work, crying for hours while manning the drive through window. It was awful.  I can remember sitting in the dark and listening to my friends downstairs laughing and having fun and KNOWING the laughter was directed at me.  Years later my friend told me they wished I'd come down and shared some of what the laughter had been about.

My first house of my own was dark, few windows. Seasonally where I lived was not sunny 360 days a year like my current place.  Stresses and hormones and poor food choices like bakery cookies could send me into a tailspin of depression.  

So you'd think I'd learn. I'd take my lifetime of knowledge about how my body reacts and not go there. Alas, the inner demon that says "why aren't you working, you must be lazy" and "since you aren't working, your house should be spotless, but it's not" has to be silenced and the way to do so is to numb it into a coma with sugar.  Trouble is, after you got that little bugger da zed with sugar and stuffed back in his box, the aftermath is there. Broken or bruised relationships, missed opportunities, and yes, a definite feeling of shame that I wasn't strong enough to defend myself from that attack.

Recovery is one day at a time. Focus is key.

I guess I'll focus on this!

My boys sleeping on a creation of my mil