Day 11, 79 to go.....the good, the bad and the emotional hunger

The last couple of days have been emotionally tough,

I was doing closing comments at a conference yesterday and enjoyed my summer fruit and goat's yoghurt 'trifle' much more than I would have enjoyed the scone-based 'high tea' other delegates were tucking into.

I started keeping my food diary proper so I won't need to mention everything I eat here (just managed to get them printed as I have no printer here at home) and am amazed at how often I eat my handful of nuts and dates early because I am bored/stressed/emotional/tired as opposed to being hungry. That is really significant though difficult to challenge.....I need some strategies.

I did my IMT yesterday morning before leaving for work. Left the conference at 6.30 before embarking on a really scary 50 mile drive in high winds to my Gran's house where I would spend the evening before attending the funeral of a family friend today.

Now, my Gran is 86.....and a marvellous woman. She is also an Irish force feeder....and she is never happy unless we are happy, which in her book (bless her, so nurturing!!) means eating something she has wrought with her own fair hand. She is a fantastic cook, having spent years as head chef at a major industrial site and won international awards for her catering. The food she makes is traditional, laden with wheat, sugar butter and all manner of naughty things and salt too.

I had given her instructions....no wheat, dairy, caffeine processed, sugar....and she really respected that. She had prepared a chicken breast with new potatoes and a lovely fresh green salad with her trademark bits of black grape through it. She didn't understand why I couldn't have salad cream, and I explained about the sugar content, which surprised her too....

Tea drinking is a huge part of our very Irish family culture, and she was fine with me drinking my special herbal teas, though commented that she could never face one herself. She always has a malted drink with a slug of brandy to get her to sleep, and it troubled her a bit when I declined, though she shuffled around and prepared her own and didn't complain.

I did no an off-radar emotional binge however. She had baked egg custards (my favourite) and apple pie (second favourite) and seemed OK, though a little hurt when I had to decline......

I felt good.....empowered......strong. So why did I get hungry by 9pm and eat the whole bag of dried cranberries and macadamia nuts I had brought to sustain me through the next day's sad events??? Recompense for my goodness??? Greed?? Emotional hunger......??? A bit of them all to be fair. I felt bad. I also didn't do my IMT. I knew I was going to find it hard to sleep on that sofa near a window on the street they don't call 'little Beirut' by accident.....and I didn't want to wake myself up as I started to doze by 9.30 by getting up and stretching. That is the honest truth.

I did it this morning though and my Gran prepared me scrambled eggs, the slice of wheat free toast I had brought with me and a handful of grapes to get me through the long day ahead. Great.

The funeral was sad, very sad. Not only that, the evening on the sofa the night before has been emotionally troubling. Going back to that town always is, and I went to a strange place in my mind....a state kind of haunted by ghosts and flashbacks as I tried to nod off, knowing that the place where my tired limbs lay was just a few streets away from the scenes of much hardship I faced as a young person. I wondered how I had managed to climb out of that, out of 'Little Beirut' and into an ivory tower and when I did sleep my dreams were tinged with this too.....

The church was sad too.....and as I stood there paying my respects I realised that this beautiful old church in the midst's of chaos has been the marker for so many important times in my life. My baptism, Sunday school, the choir, weddings, baptisms to follow, and now this. A funeral. When we sang 'Amazing Grace' my eyes stung with tears as I thought of the man whose passing we mourned, and again of this little 'wretch' who had somehow climbed out of hell's kitchen and into the light.......

So the wake.....and focusing on the buffet. It was now 1.40 and almost 6 hours since I had eaten. I was starving. Emotionally and physically. I looked at the plates of quiche, pies, sandwiches and almost gave myself permission to dig in. After all, where around here was I going to find gluten, sugar, additive free cuisine??? I had already had a single alcohol free beer to mark my friend's day and somehow wondered if the flood gates had opened.

I approached the table. The smell was amazing. My stomach churned. And what did I find amidst the smorgasbord of banished booty??? A tiny plate of chicken tikka pieces and a single tortilla sandwich wrap (I wondered if it has wheat in it but risked it anyway- with nasty gastric after effects!!!). I felt good. After all, I had given myself permission for one day to abandon ship, yet somehow clung onto the mast as it started to sink. I followed this with a huge bowl of fresh fruit pieces and spurned the sherry trifle and lemon meringue pies that had been calling to me.

So, not great, not awful.....but yielded great learning about the emotional process involved in all of this.

Do you know what is great??? The change in my shape....I am definitely changing. I will be doing an official weigh and measure for Dax tomorrow and also trying the yoga moves prescribed. Just made a great Mexican chicken and smoked paprika stew with real, home made corn tortillas and feeling good, if emotionally jaded.

Until tomorrow xxxx