The AM hours of today were rough. Exhibit A—my knees/hamstrings were fucking killing me, and I don't really know why. The running theory is that my one pair of shoes are fucking up my legs, and I wore them last night. I'll be testing this theory in the near future, but suffice it to say that I could barely walk, let alone go to the gym. Exhibit B—I drive to Aldi and buy the food and load it into the car and turn the key, and the car doesn't start. So now Pam has to bring the van and the baby to the lot, the jump doesn't work, I push the car with my bare goddamn hands to the corner of the parking lot so that a tow truck can pick it up, we're dropping hundreds of dollars yet again on the fucking car, all of this very very frustrating, as you can guess.
I'm finding that, thankfully, being upset doesn't necessarily translate to strong desires to break fasts or binge or go off the rails of any sort. This is how I was with drinking. I was more likely to drink heavily when I was happy than when I was sad. I at least had the foresight to know that drinking made emotions bigger and wider, and I didn't need to do that with sadness. The comparison's not a 1-to-1, but it's in the ballpark—when I have a shitty day, I'm not necessarily reaching for the cookies either. I have a bad day and I'm doubling down on vegetables and fruits. I'm thankful for that.
Stayed within my calorie range and even was able to fit a small slice of pizza in there. Not a great day, but I made it through. Twelve days in the books, feeling good about everything in the long term, if not feeling particularly good about some of the events of today. No worries.
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