Honesty

I ate cooked food last night. I want to pretend that I didn’t, and certainly don’t want to share on this blog about it. But the truth is that I’m only as sick as my secrets -- a recovery slogan that resonates with me a lot. And I don’t want to punish myself. Part of my path is finding a new self love. Factually, though, these are the things that happened:

I had low grade anxiety, that I didn’t even realize.
I woke up from a nap, and before I had time to think or debate about it, I ordered some room service.
I ate the sandwich and fries and didn’t feel great, but didn’t feel horrible.
Then I called room service again and ordered desert.
And ate it, and felt nauseous.
I fell back asleep, woke up a few hours later. Felt like crap.
Felt like such crap, bloated, spacey, full, totally unsexy that I blew off the party that I was going to go to – a goodbye party for all of us in Berlin for the last 5 months. So, missed the chance to enjoy a party and say goodbye to the friends I’ve made.

Ugh.

All I can do is learn from this, hopefully the lesson sticks.

I am ecstaticly happy that today is a new day (well, medium happy, looking toward ecstatic). I’m off to the farmer’s market and to London Juice Co for some breakfast.
And full of wonder about how much better I feel when I am raw.

Love,
Marissa