Well, last night I had a problem. I was thinking, oh well, I won't say anything about it, it wasn't that big a deal, etc. (total denial), I'm fine, life is great, and down down down the rabbit trail of FINE I go. I am a total ostrich about how I am really doing and always say and think that I am just FINE. Told some friends recently (other people who are also FINE) that I am going to get myself a hat that says FINE on it so I can try to fool myself even more.
Okay so this is what happened. I got home and was alone with Wyatt. First of all, I was having a big hunger attack going on. It comes and goes, according to the juicing hippies. So there I am, just walked in the door, and I realize that the owner of my house (I rent) has been in my house without my permission (he left a little note - "Thanks, Will.") I felt completely invaded and violated. Plus I have a cat and am not supposed to have a cat and now the owner knows. So I am upset about that and thinking of all the ensuing drama that will inevitably unfold.
Wyatt is being good but of course, he only wants to eat animal crackers for dinner. I decide to make him a little cheese sandwich with some hummus. I take it down to him (we were watching the Wiggles - I have no idea why my son loves them but he does) and, suprise, he doesn't want what I have made for him. Just the cookies, please. I start crying for some bizarre reason and all of a sudden, I am just gripped by the smell of the sandwich and the hummus. And I thought "F-it" and I shoved a piece of the sandwich right in my mouth.
I immediately regretted it and spit it out. But here is the gross part. After I spit it out, I was even more childishly mad that I "couldn't have" it and was feeling deprived and so I chewed and spit out about 4 more bites. How gross is that? Chew and Spit? Like the bulimics and anorectics do? WTF? I stopped myself at that point and drank a huge cup of apple/grape juice but that wild, kind of out of control feeling stayed with me for awhile. I prayed up a storm but I just had to sit in it for a few hours. I hate that.
I felt better after Justin got home and I had put Wyatt down to bed. The routine of normal things soothed my frayed nerve endings. I read about not giving up from my Christian-based fasting book and that helped. Going to sleep was probably the very best thing I did. And I feel better this morning but I have to look at that behavior and think about why I did it, if only for a moment.
I forgot that I was doing this fast for the glory of God - listening for God's will. I was more focused on my own deprivation and hunger - I was focused on the things of this world that get in the way of my relationship with God. If anything, this fast has made me realize that I don't just suffer from alcoholism - I have some crazy food issues, too. Basically, I USE food at times just like when I drink - to escape. This isn't exactly a new revelation for me but it has certainly become more clear. When I consider my behavior from last night, I also think that I could easily work myself into an eating disorder. So I need to be careful with all of this fasting business.
I refuse to beat myself up over the glitch, and that is all I am calling that little event from last night. I am not going to blow it out of proportion - yeah, so I screwed up, big deal. Move forward. It is over and I am on Day 8 of my fast and praying for further guidance from God.
Oh - and I am wearing my thin jeans today. Yay! Praise Jesus. :-)