Husband and I are going to the therapist this weekend for the official disclosure day. And I've pretty much been a mess since scheduling this appointment. So much so that I've thought of just canceling it, telling Husband that I'm not ready, even though it's been two years since D-Day (as in discovery, not disclosure day). Prior to a few weeks ago, I made sure I did some self-care every day. Most days it was going running, but other days it was soaking in a bubble bath. I felt healthy and strong. I was working on finishing Step 2, finally, and looking forward to delving into Step 3. I was trying new recipes and cooking healthy meals. I was on my game.
This week I'm sick, like fever sore throat yuckiness sick. I haven't exercised in two weeks, and I just brought home fast food for dinner. Fast. Food. The stuff that has no nutritional value except to stuff my emotions. I've canceled meetings at work because I don't have the energy to discuss and debate. My pants are tight from eating too much chocolate, although it's hard to find them in the week's worth of laundry that sits unfolded on my floor.
I just want to snap out of it, and my head is full of really negative self-talk, which just makes the problem worse. I know it is because I am full of emotion about disclosure day, and I wish that I could do all of the things that I'm supposed to do when I'm anxious. But instead, I've resorted to the easier tactics...fast food, TV, and laziness.
On days like this, I understand in some ways why Husband deals with his problems in such destructive ways. The healthy ways are SO HARD.
And today I'm just tired. And overwhelmed. And nervous. And probably a little sad and mad thrown in there too.
No comments:
Post a Comment