My most wonderful husband is out at the car wash with le Snoog this morning so they can "see the big noodles" (Snoog's words, not the hubs'). I've been left here to indulge in grown-up television and to use an entire roll of paper towels blowing my nose. I've never been so pleased to have spent more money than necessary on paper towels. Grateful for antibiotics, we are. The silver lining is that we're likely to be healthy next week to travel.
At least 2 of us are.
The hubs started sneezing last night.
This doesn't look good.
Another indulgence this morning...a pity party. There is a race packet at a local hotel with my name on it. Had I not had to make a choice between the two races I registered for, I'd be running my second half-marathon tomorrow morning. The right choice is to leave the packet there, to listen to medical advice, to remember that there's not time over the holidays to be non-weight-bearing, to wear a boot, to struggle up and down our stairs with a squirmy toddler who wants to "do it by SELF!". To take care of myself properly. On paper it's easy to choose right. Nevertheless, I'm feeling sorry for myself about it.
The running shoes have been sadly inactive this week. This cold-turned-sinus infection-and-mild bronchitis sucked just enough out of me to make the thought of much aerobic exercise unappealing. To say the least. My frame of mind isn't what I'd like it to be right before the holidays. Despite 3-ish years of recovery, the holidays still make me feel off-balance. Finding peace is a challenge, making peace with myself is even more so. I'd like to put it all aside and focus on something external, like making the holidays a magical experience for the boys in my life.
That's not a good idea.
One of the things I've learned about anorexia, no matter how far removed I become from it chronologically, is that there are days you can close Pandora's box, and days you have to let it open. You have to acknowledge the triggers, because that's the only way you can keep from being buried beneath them. I hate this part, honestly. I know better than to go there, to indulge in those behaviors, yet sometimes during the holidays it's a constant battle to remember WHY.
Indulgence is a double-edged sword, isn't it?