I ate three meals today, for the first time in a week. Granted, those meals were an egg, a green salad, and an aubergine tomato saucey thing, but still.
So... the advantage of being sick from Tuesday to Saturday is that you don't eat. You live on coconut water and watermelon. And then your stomach has shrunk and you've no appetite left, and if you're obese it means you lose 12lbs and desperately don't want to let them go back on again even if you know that it's impossible.
But starving kinda works*, despite everything they tell you, and being a stone lighter feels really, really nice. If I could just go from here and not start eating sugar again. Or bread... it was nice to detox without trying. And now the cravings are gone.. the appetite is gone, and speaking as a person who is ruled by food longings all the time everyday at night anytime can't say no to anything, it's very freeing to lose your appetite.
It can't last - it's lack of control that's my issue, not over-control. But I'm enjoying it while it lasts. I just did the maths - when I went to WeightWatchers when I was 28, and had a goal, and had only had one baby, I got to my lowest adult weight, touching on a size 12, almost. I was 5 and half stone lighter than I am now. Scary thought. I'm almost carrying around a whole extra adult on me. No wonder I'm tired.
So for now, I'd like eating to take a back seat. Urg, I'm embarrassed by this post. I'm embarrassed by the level of body negative self hatred I've been feeling the last while. I can't even talk about it. I just need to be a shape that's more myself and less fat-suit, now. I need to carry less, there's too much to drag around with me. This is one thing I wish I could let go.
This morning I slept in a little, and dreamt of looking after a friend's baby who I wasn't really in a position to look after (not enough nappies, food etc.). Then I returned her without knowing she was safe and had to run around trying to check on her and that she was actually back with her mother. In doing this, I found that the person I was talking to reacted to a strange remote control that kept changing, and was sort of on tv. I kept deleting him by accident and trying to fast forward/rewind him to get him back. Not sure I actually achieved that.
I also had a moment where I was in my father's house and was trying to dispose of a bloody sanitary towel, which turned into a serial killer plan to murder someone bloodily, then have all the blood cleaned up enough that a police detail would never be able to spot any with their special lights/powder stuff.
The party was great. Full of twinkle and sparkling wine and too much food.
Sadly, I got way behind 'schedule' for want of a better work and was clumsily icing (fucking up) the cake as people were arriving - and kept trying to fucking talk to me while I was doing it! So it was a bit of a disappointing Frankencake and I did not take pictures. *bah*
But I got wonderful cards and presents, which I will take pictures of later, and people were so good to me. The kids were great and the wine flowed and all was good - though the house was a bit cold, mostly because I left a window open and forgot about it. Oops...
There's one little thing... one of my oldest friends who has in the past made a lot of time for my birthday is really busy this year, doing a course in another part of the country. Sadly, her mother's birthday is the day after mine, and our celebrations often clash - as happened this year, so she didn't make the party. She was full of offers to call over briefly before, but she would be running from work, here, then back to the restaurant, and I knew I'd be busy, so I said come over for cake today.
I texted her this morning to say come for lunch, from the computer, then didn't check my phone to see her asking when, as she had to get on the road again soon - by the time I texted back... she'd left already. She has a workshop...
Rationally, I know she's mad busy, she had a lot of commitments, there's no reason to expect special treatment from her... but god, it hurts - the realisation that she's way more important to me than I am to her is a stinging one. I only see her a few times a year at this stage and she breaks dates all the time.
I pull up the big girl panties a lot, and I know it's the right thing to do now too. But ... it's hard. I feel really sad about this. It's not just a routine birthday. The thing is, I don't really know how to go about processing this as an adult. As a kid or a teenager, I'd, I don't know, get in a huff and say accusing things and we'd have a big outing of feelings and a resolution. As an adult, that really doesn't appeal. And also, it is what it is, I don't want to throw any guilt at her and also, well, the whole like-imbalance thing is my problem, it's not like I can make her want to be round me more.
So I don't think there's anything to do about it, it's just a question of how to process this rather tender, embarrassing hurt that goes with the territory of unrequited friendship. I don't know how to answer her back. I don't want to say, ok, see you in a fortnight, assuming you've time at that point, when it doesn't feel ok. And I don't want to reply with a 'wow, I feel so hurt right now' either.
I wish I could think blog posts directly onto the page. I sort of used to do that - think in posts, get to the computer, try and let them flow out, horribly unedited, onto your feed.
Now the energy to do that is gone and it's also just as well. There's not much use in blurting, especially when the .... whatever... subsides after a while.
I wrote about this before, but once I went to a student art show with my parents, and on exhibit was a little house, each room graffitied, or showing a video, a monument to the artists' grief at losing her mother to cancer.
My mother was disgusted at such public indulgence. The craven indignity of it, I suppose. I think this blog was that for many years... would she disapprove? I wanted to write tonight about a book I know she would have loved, it hurts to think that she never got to read it.
Whatever my cautious, uncertain optimism about the possibility of an afterlife might be, they don't stretch to any belief that my mother is reading my blog. So she will neither find out about the book she missed, or be embarrassed that her daughter built a house of grief too.
I wish there was an emotion dump, where you can get it out and then leave it behind. I can't leave anything behind, it all piles up. In films, that works. There's catharsis. Is there in other people's lives too, or does everyone carry it all around in their soft tissue like I do? I suspect most do more than they accept.
I've just made an Italian family's worth of tomato sauce to make into lasagnas. I want to do all vegetarian (Quorn Mince) to make my life easier, and people don't really notice the difference, but I feel like I'll be cheating people - it's not a good protein source, really, it's processed and basically made from fungus... it tastes good though). Still... I'll get gross mince as well. In Aldi. Where their organic costs more or less the same as not, which is quite impressive. Though I'm probably reading amounts wrong.
I'd love to say I enjoy this cooking - but I'm desperately weary, my back hurts, my feel hurt, I think I sprained my wrist yesterday, a little - chopping onions was a bit painful. I am not mindful. I an whineful. I have no stamina or stoicism. I'm a whingey little bitch, basically. My own head annoys me as much as my back pain and tired eyes do. Thinking about angsting to you about the tomato sauce made me remember I hadn't put wine in it though - I did feel something was missing. Tipping a quarter bottle of wine into a vat a of bubbling tomato sauce is a nice thing to do. Satisfying. I can pretend these ham arms of mine are the result of years of pasta rolling and kneading.
Anyway. I'm going to bed. This sauce will have to sit and marinate in itself without any more heat, until tomorrow.
I am planning my party. I like planning. If only my nature were not so happy planning and terrified of actually doing. I balk at carrying anything through.
It's the same with writing. I'm good at letting ideas come, hearing dialogue, jumping to what's needed; but writing it down is agony.
Anyway. Pink and gold. How to make tissue paper pom poms. Grilled aubergine and courgette (that's eggplant and zuccini to many of you). These are the things the internet is helping me with today. Having said he couldn't get prosecco, Axel now claims he can. I have some spare cash for party things. I will use my silver cutlery (supplemented with some normal cutlery)which I pretty much just use once a year instead of spending money on waste and wooden forks. Plan plan.
Bodhi is off to his school disco in a couple hours. I managed to persuade him to wear something nice, not something crappy. Then he got engaged with how nice and manly he looks in his blue shirt and got interested in his hair. Bless him. He is going to be the loveliest teenager. He takes such delight in himself, I love it.
I bought raw food for the dog, having finally got it together to work out what to get. He won't eat it. Little fecker. Now I have to be grown up and let him get hungry enough to get over his fussiness. I have no idea what the issue is. It's full of things he likes! Beef and chicken mince, powdered seaweed, veg and coconut oil. It's exactly what he needs. Come on, Derry!
Weirdest dream... maybe trigger warning for pregnant people, this is kind of disturbing...
I was desperate to have a baby ... had to have some sort of IVF procedure. When the time came to give birth, the doctors informed me that the next step was for me to have my hands and feet removed and possibly for the baby's hands and feet to be grafted on temporarily - I can't remember properly now, but in the dream the horror of having this operation and being stranded, a terrified amputee, unable to properly hold my new baby, was stark and appalling. The fear of having this done was very real.
I was desperately searching for alternatives, and asked a friend who had also had the IVF type procedure about how she had managed itit - she said no, her birth had been natural, there had been none of that.
And then, suddenly, my partner and I were in a room where I had given birth - oddly outside myself, I was surprised by myself on a bed, a plump, adorable little black baby lying on me, smiling, not a new born at all, in the dream, and I had had the baby spontaneously and all was well.
It's been a long time since I had a baby dream, and was an extreme return!
Today I swam for 40 minutes. I ate all good things, barring some butter, coffee and apple juice. And butter could be worse. I donated small amounts to three different charities, and signed two worthy petitions.
I organised for my son and his friends to come out to my father's house and see his pet lamb and hopefully play in his straw. I cried into my goggles for a bit in the water. I saw my daughter this morning and told her not to talk to me about getting a PS4 today as I can't take any more fighting. So she hasn't been downstairs since I came home.
I went out to meet a friend and a local autism activist, but the friend had got the day wrong. We came to a good conclusion for the next time, and I met another mother whose son refused school... she lives 3 doors down from me and has a son Bodhi's age - I'm hoping they might make friends and have someone to go visit. Apparently there's a third ASD kid at home in their room in the same way a few doors down from them - I wonder should we be checking what's in our water?
I didn't walk the dog.
My best friend, or rather the person I consider my best friend even though we don't see each other much, can't come to my party because her mother's birthday is the day after mine, and they're celebrating the same day. I felt like I was four when she told me, even though I pretty much expected it. I'm feeling whatever the opposite of resilient is.
I distracted myself with plans for the cake I'm going to make for a colleague's daughter on Sunday, and my own birthday cake. Thinking about chocolate cake is soothing.