A Wounded Spirit

For all the health hoopla I push and believe in, no food, medicine or therapy can cure a wounded spirit. This weekend has been first-hand experience and an unavoidable reminder for me.

For a variety of reasons, I am experiencing some emotional stress--trauma, even might better describe this situation. It's really come to a peak over this last weekend and I have not been able to ignore it. I even missed work on Friday because of it. And I really hate missing work for a day of crying at home alone. (I called in sick. And I was--heart-sick. But they don't really give you work-place compassion for heart-sickness.)

I tend to lose my appetite when I am burdened and this weekend was no different. While I eat about a meal a day during times like these, I was especially aware this time of the meals I was craving: pizza, macaroni and cheese, ranch dressing, baked potato, etc.

While I sat home and cried Friday, I ordered a pizza (no cheese, but still...). I ate three slices and slept the rest of the day. Saturday consisted of a baked potato (with salsa), macaroni and cheese (the cheap kind...from Souper Salad) and a very small salad (ok, so I had maybe three bites of the salad? I wanted the mac and cheese).

I was so glad to have the chocolate sauce around! I ate so much of that I really can't stand to think about it at the moment. But other than that, I ate junky and felt junky.

It turns out that no matter what I ate, though, I would have felt awful. Because my emotions are in turmoil! I know that eating raw improves energy, mental clarity, overall health and so much more, but it can't fix a broken heart. Not even medicine can. It can numb it, but it can't repair it.

So, in the meantime, I am eating better today. I don't feel any better, but I know I am making choices for a healthier tomorrow--when maybe my heart will be stronger, too.