What can I say? I’m sitting here typing furiously in an effort to center myself. To relax. To not munch. I had a good snack — a bag of soy chips — a while ago, and that really should hold me for another 3-4 hours. But it’s the stress that’s getting to me right now. The Alzheimer’s mom [hereafter and forever more to be referred to as AM] wants dinner, but is refusing to eat because I’m not nearly ready to join her. [note to those of you contemplating or living with WLS — you cannot allow your eating to be dictated by other people. Listen to your body and learn its new schedule, and plan for it, even if that means lunch at 3 and dinner at 10!!!!]
We returned at 2:30 from a weekend with my sister. It’s now 6 pm. I’ve unpacked AM, assembled the laundry, done the first load, picked up the dog from the kennel, taken the dog hiking. Found AM’s 18-year-old cat who decided to hide in the basement while we were gone. Gone to the drug store and the butcher, picked up some money at the bank, and AM’s prescription. At 5:30, the nightly coaching of AM through the process of feeding the dog started. And I faced the need to cook dinner.
And the cookies, nuts, and candy that AM prefers to eat are RIGHT there… waiting, for me, stalking me, calling me, urging me to just LET GO!!!! And I’m telling you ALL, it’s taken every ounce of self control to walk out of that kitchen.
AM’s plate of veggies is all ready to be nuked. The meat is in the toaster oven [4 oz breaded chicken cutlet with mozzarella — 190 calories, 22 grams of protein, 11 grams carbohydrate]. I figured I had 10 minutes before it was done. Soooo I RAN!!!!! With a HUGE mug of spiced tea, and now I’m hiding and typing furiously.
This all comes under the heading of taking care of self. Recognizing the triggers that set me off. Gotta identify them, give them names and forms, and figure out why they put me on AUTOMATIC EATING (why can’t it be automatic NOT eating? Can we retrain ourselves?)
It’s time to check AM’s dinner — Be right back!
So — right now, what does THIS one look like? I suspect it’s a fear of being trapped, and I try to emotionally run away and hide. Disconnect. I’ll keep you posted on what I figure out. In the meantime, AM’s dinner is beautifully dished up and hot. She’s eating in front of the TV. I have my cat on my lap, and the tea is working. So far, so good. Another crisis controlled, but not averted.