I thought about doing a good news/bad news segment to review this week, but having already done that once, it would probably not be as entertaining.
Plus, this week has been full of bad news, and not so much good news, so the segment would cease to be funny and probably be very depressing.
On the bright side, I seem to be slowly making my way back to what looks like actual recovery – because for as much as I thought I was “back on track” after last week, I would venture to guess that throwing fits at every meal and refusing to eat is probably not really all that recovery-minded. So, in a last-ditch effort to fuel myself before a 10K on Saturday, I started eating again on Friday — and whined the entire time. And whined almost every time I had to eat this weekend.
In fact, I arrived at church late this morning, near tears, having already gotten into a fight with my mother over the fact that I was cooking. I practically dared someone to ask me what was wrong, because at the end of my long list of horrible, terrible things that I had endured that morning, I would add: “AND I ate breakfast!”
At which point I would collapse in a fit of tears and whine about how nobody seemed to understand that this is, in fact, the most traumatic thing in the entire. freaking. world.
But I’m not overdramatic or anything.
I also did not get back from a run this afternoon, bail out of dinner plans with a friend, get into another fight with my mother regarding the fact that I was actually attempting to use the kitchen, then sulk upstairs and spend half an hour telling God that dinner is pretty much the dumbest idea EVER and I shouldn’t have to eat it.
Because that might border on overdramatic. Maybe.
For the record, I still think dinner is the dumbest thing ever – but I ate it anyway.