This is not easy

I don't know when I became so dependent on food, but yeah. Okay, I do know. It was when I was caring for my dying husband and nobody understood what I was going through. Nobody understood what I was feeling. I could talk to people, but it was impossible for them to comprehend the magnitude of what I was dealing with.

I think my feelings and emotions about the situation scared the hell out of me, so I looked for a way to avoid feeling them. Enter: food. I don't have this figured out by any means, but I think I've identified a big part of the problem. Now I just have to figure out how to deal with it. Easy, right? Sure. No problem.

I didn't walk today. All of my physical activity included gardening/weeding, digging a new patch for lettuce, and cleaning the garage. Can we talk about the garage for a minute? My husband, sweetheart that he was, was a borderline hoarder. I managed to keep him and his "treasures" confined to the garage, happily parking my car outside in the -10° winters, because I loved him and I wanted him to have the things he loved around him. But now? He's gone and I'm left with a garage that looks like a horror movie. Here is a picture. Don't judge me.

Okay? I mean the empty boxes in the foreground were hauled to the recycling station but come on. It's still a jungle in there. And that is AFTER a day of cleaning and sorting and hauling stuff out.

Learning to ignore the garage (I pretended it didn't exist) and confine my OCD cleaning and organizing to the house was one of the most difficult compromises I made in our relationship. I'm not even kidding. I practically needed therapy. But by the end of the summer that garage will be cleaned and organized and I will post a picture of my triumph.

So I already said no formal exercise. Calories came in at 1496. 

I finally did hop on the scale and weighed 204. That is the most I have ever weighed in my life, even counting three full term pregnancies. I'm not really upset about it. I mean, I don't like it but I feel like I gained this weight as a form of self-care because I was too grief-stricken and distraught to manage to care for myself in another way. There were literally days that my greatest accomplishment was NOT staying in bed all day crying, so I'm not going to beat myself up for doing the best I could at the lowest point of my life. It's okay.