Well, it turns out I can’t return a good number (like all but two) of the shoes, but I can return some of the clothes. For this, I am glad. I totally blew it on this one; but I can’t really feel too guilty. Honestly, it’s a sickness, and like sneezing on a friend and making them sick too, it’s an accident, one you regret but hardly can stop it from happening. My friend im-ed me a whole bunch of verses about conquering the flesh and being controlled by the Spirit. He is right, one hundred percent. He would know quite a bit about all of that as well; He’s struggled with issues with his sexuality, gluttony and co-dependence. He is speaking from experience. But right now my base is not in reality – it’s in acquisition mode. I need to have and have I will do.
One of my friends from Gentle Christian Mothers expressed concerns at the crash that is soon to follow. It’s not only my shopping that’s getting out of hand. It’s eating as well. I stick stringently to my diet…. except for when I don’t. I’m allowed 100 calories of sweets, which I ate with my diet ice cream and diet root beer. Fine. Good girl, Malakoa. Then I went to dinner with my mom and daughter. We ate sweet potato fries (stretching it, as we are to avoid fried foods, but whatever.) hamburgers (I was ‘good’ I had a hamburger with all sorts of cheese and stuff but didn’t eat the bun. But there was a problem. There was an ad for the brownie hot fudge sundae on the table. Both my mom and I looked at it the whole meal. There was nothing stopping us from ordering. We did. I told myself I’d just eat the three bites that Agaston permits. Of course, I didn’t. I ate the whole (half) damn thing.
John 14 says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.”
I almost feel that including a verse would be spiritualizing my own hysteria. (Thanks, Anne Lemott) The fact is that I’m sick. It’s true, and I’m always going to be sick. My life will always be about me managing my illness; I’ll never live a ‘normal’ life. That makes my life extraordinary, right? I’ll have the ups and downs like most people will ever know.
My husband is trying to get me to go to bed. Tomorrow I’m driving Small and me to take care of my grandfather for the day. He is very sick. Today, my little girl said to me, “You’re grandpa is probably going to die.”
I don’t know where that came from, but I was mortified. Where did she hear that? Was it something I said? Did I do it in front of her? Who knows? I don’t.
That’s all for now.