I’ve been hurt this week – a betrayal by someone I considered to be a friend. The betrayal didn’t happen this week, actually it happened a while ago but I only just found out about it so it’s very raw. And I know, shit happens. We’ve all been there, right? We’ve all experienced one of those moments when we discover someone isn’t who we thought they were. I’ve been knocked sideways by my own naivety and I’m still processing the things I found out, so it’s fair to say I feel a bit down.
I guess sometimes you have to cut people loose from your life and move on. And that’s where I’m at…it’s true that wisdom comes with age. I’m as far from fond of the wrinkles on my face as it’s possible to get, but I do appreciate the things my advancing years have taught me – namely that if someone treats you like shit it’s generally their problem not yours. And I’m not responsible for someone else’s problems, in fact they can kiss my fat ass.
An interesting thing happened…despite the shit hitting the fan, I didn’t face-plant into a vat of cheeseballs. The opposite in fact. I dealt with it like a normal person. I talked about it with a friend, I brooded about it, I got upset and I got mad. I fantasised about what I’d like to say to the main protagonist in a world where my words would come out right first time and cut them down to size, but what I didn’t try to do was soothe my hurt feelings by working my way through half a dozen Daim cakes and a ton of salty snacks.
What’s that all about then? It’s a first, it what it is. I’m not sure how or where the wiring went wrong in my head, but somehow I’ve always carried a baked-in belief that stuff doesn’t hurt as much if I’m chewing whilst I get my head around it. Five thousand calories stops the bleeding far more effectively than a band aid ever could, or at least that’s what my past experience has taught me.
And this week, I could have gone down that route, you know? There’s a selection of cookies, Reece’s peanut butter cups and cake bars doing the rounds in our office at the moment…dry January is starting to bite and everyone seems to have the munchies. It’s not helpful when I’m shaky, but when I’m in the sweet spot it doesn’t bother me one little bit. So despite the maelstrom of emotion going on under the surface yesterday, none of the naughties came knocking on my door at all. Which is pretty awesome, when you consider the straight-as-a-dog’s-hind-leg nature of my more recent attempts at losing weight.
It’s a ray of sunshine in an otherwise shit week. And folk say things happen for a reason…maybe it was time for a bit of a life detox as well as a focus on clean eating. My emotional bruises will heal, and I’m as sure as I can be that they’ll do so without the assistance of asshole-driven comfort-food decisions.
He’s back in his box ladies, and that’s got to be worth celebrating, right? 🙂
