We were driving home from running a few errands yesterday when I asked Jon which would be crazier: eating the Krispy Kreme pumpkin doughnut I had just purchased (after much internal debate) or throwing it away.

He laughed, but I was totally serious.

Other highlights from the week: dinner consisting of a multiple serving bag of goldfish crackers, the butterfinger “frozen dairy dessert” that made my stomach hurt instantaneously and the loaf of sourdough bread that I’ve plowed through rather spectacularly.

You’d think I would’ve solidly figured out the true difference between intuitive eating and emotional eating earlier in the game, but it all became crystal clear as I was shoving handfuls of crackers in my mouth the other night.

I hardly ate from the time we received Jon’s diagnosis to his release from the hospital – but the floodgates have opened.

I don’t feel physical hunger, but I definitely feel an almost frantic desire to eat. Anything. Everything. Thoughts randomly pop into my head and compel me to eat whatever it is I’ve created in my mind. Or else.

This is so very different than the intuitive eating path I was on that prompted me to handle ice cream and crackers and other previously prohibited foods with some sanity. This is fierce, crazy, binge producing thinking.

It’s scary.

I never fooled myself into thinking I was over this sort of thing. I most definitely understand I will battle this BS for the rest of my life – but I was sort of happy that I initially seemed to have it under control.

I put my trainer on hold when the whirlwind started, but I’m heading back next week. I’m going to make it to the gym tomorrow, too. And I’m probably going to look for a local therapist to check in with here and there.

I don’t mind the weight gain (too much) (though I don’t think that has happened since – realistically – I’m arguing with myself over ONE doughnut these days, not a dozen) – but I DO very much mind what’s going on emotionally/mentally/with my brain.

I will be fine. I know how to manage this sort of thing.

I’m just so tired of the work involved in beating the crazy back.
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Jon is recovering freakishly well.

One week from surgery and he was up cooking dinner last night.

(Squash + chicken sausage. This picture was taken almost exactly a year ago but is exactly what we ate minus the onions and peppers – and is better than last night’s dark phone picture.)

We’ve been trying to get out of the house at least once a day for something. Yesterday we went to the grocery store.

This morning we went for a walk around our neighborhood.

He’s off everything – even ibuprofen. I’m probably driving him crazy with my constant “are you ok” checks – but he’s not a whiner – so I just don’t know. His primary issue right now is fatigue, but he’s rapidly improving.
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I just looked through a bunch of pictures from one year ago and actually felt a little homesick (?) or sad or something about Michigan.

I’m glad a little space from the school stress has given me the ability to remember it fondly.

It’s amazing how radically life has changed in one short year.

Really glad I just reminded myself to never do this (hair) again.

Also – I found this:

That I captioned with this: Bad picture, but important occasion. Within single digits of my 100 pound weight loss goal.

I had forgotten how excited I was to make it to 181.

Funny how quickly that turned to complaining about being stuck.

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