Felled by the Night: Day Two Hundred

 

1074733_80339915A year can just blow by.   I’ve been counting the days as a way to try and slow it down – I guess – or maybe as a way to remind myself how fast they go, but they seem to be just like those movie cliches where a wind gusts by and the calendar loses thirty sheets of days out the window.  Recorded, but after the fact, uncatchable, without meaning beyond their use as scratch paper.

I look up and July is halfway out the window.

I’ve been thinking about trying to allow for vulnerability and even though it doesn’t look like it from the outset, over these past two days, I’ve kind of eaten better.  Or my experience of eating has been better.  Less ravenous or less ravenous without possibility of satiety.  When I’m freaking out and eating to deal with that, whatever the underlying freak-out is, the food has to keep coming until I find myself uncomfortable and angry and distracted and halfway into something else.   Lately, it’s more, I’m super hungry, I’m going to eat what I want.  Then, I stop being hungry and I can literally pay attention to the moment where I think, okay, second ice cream cone, I don’t need that.  Rather than just feeling like there’s still ice cream in the freezer and I need to do something about that.  Or I gotta get up and go get Starbucks before they run out of frappuccinos.  Or I should probably get a large because, well, I’m here and I don’t want to eat this meal and still be able to feel my limbs afterwards.  Definitely been aware that I am at least able to see the surreal mania involved with the way I eat.  That and I have made my own lunch for the past couple of days which has involved fruit and some fiber, I’ve also had some shakes (which I actually prefer to the caramel frappuccinos that give me accidental x-ray vision and the mistaken belief I can walk through walls, Kool-Aid Guy-style) and that’s kept me a tiny bit underwraps.  No big conversion to salad-eating or anything.  But I take what I can get.

Yesterday, I generated a big list of wants.  Though I’m sure there are further avenues to go down as far as discussing my life’s desires, I think that’s probably enough to attend to for a little while.

So I’m striving to keep the kitchen clean, I’ve picked out my clothes for tomorrow and I have decided, firmly, that I won’t despair as to how they look on my body, but to remember that I love that shirt because it reminds me of happy times and I think the colors go with my colors and it will do the perfect job of covering up my aggressive sunburn that mimics the cover of the Florence and the Machine album Lungs’ cover almost perfectly.

My toenails are clipped, my toilet bowl’s been swished about, and I am going to bed early enough to take the next twenty-four hours as a gift, not a fist.

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