It's May 7th. My blood pressure is 160/99 in my left arm and 162/99 in my right arm. This is OK for me. I'm not anxious about that number. I'm not proud of that number. I guess I'm nothing about that number.
120/80. That's always my goal. Maybe I'll get there...
Joe was out of town this weekend, so I used these three days as a sort of mental reset. After therapy on Thursday, I was feeling energized to make some little changes. Do some things differently. Maybe wrangle that anxiety a bit better. So I had a cheeseburger and fries for dinner on Friday.
How the fuck does that make things better? Because ever since I got out of the hospital, my relationship with food has shifted. I've been so fucking terrified of eating, well, anything. On the one hand, it's really prompted me to start cooking again, which is definitely better for my stupid heart. I have more energy, I'm eating fewer salty snacks (AND sweets), and overall it just feels good to make better food choices. But it also means that I perseverate on food like a motherfucker. Like, it's all I can think about. And I'm kind of terrified of doing the wrong thing, of eating the wrong thing. As if one shitty Tam's cheeseburger is going to trigger a goddamn heart attack. I don't like feeling that way, so I decided to confront it.
And ya know what? It was fine.
Tam's has got pretty mediocre burgers overall, but their fries are goddamn manna from heaven. I ate about half of both and it was fine. I didn't feel guilty for indulging, mostly because it didn't actually feel indulgent. And I didn't feel anxious for eating the wrong thing because cheeseburgers aren't inherently wrong, right? And I sure as fuck didn't feel satisfied because, again, mediocre cheeseburger. I just felt OK.
I did a whole bunch of other stuff this weekend - painting and drawing, a scrub at the jjimjalbang, some quality time with friends outside, solid meal prep - all stuff that felt good for my brain AND my heart.
Today I'm OK. And that feels like a win.
No comments:
Post a Comment