We've all seen them: those turbulent on-again, off-again relationships, full of drama and passion and pain. It's the kind of relationship that outsiders shake their heads at and wonder "Why can't they just end it? They'd be so much happier." But from the inside, it's not so easy.
I discovered this recently, and for the last several months have been trying to extricate myself from a passionate love affair with food-- not completely, of course, and not forever. I've been writing a "Dear John" letter in my mind for a while now, that I seem to be unable to deliver. It goes something like this:
Dear Food: cheese, delicious desserts, all things fried, yummy & flavorful, spicy, rich, sweet and aromatic,
I need a break-- just some time apart. It's not you, it's me. I've tried to make it work, and I just can't right now. Please understand, and please don't whisper my name from the fridge anymore. I'm leaving now, and hopefully I'll see you again in August.
Deepest love, Christine
Unfortunately, this alien being living inside-- this little parasite intent on stealing my energy & health, and sometimes even my sane & rational thoughts & emotions-- is a jealous soul. Or maybe just a sensitive one. I try not to blame him/her, try to look forward to a day when all the nausea and issues will subside... try not to cry every time I see a block of cheese.
For now, I am settling into a bland marriage of energy bars, crackers, fruit, dry cereal, and other safe and wise choices. Occasionally, a pickle will saunter into my life and cause my heart to quicken, but only when security is lax.
This pregnancy thing is not for the weak of heart, however weak my stomach might be right now. But I keep pressing on, looking forward to Thursday, when we will get to hear the heartbeat for the first time. I imagine all will be forgiven then.