On Friday I called in sick, packed up a bag and headed for the mountains. Except for the eight bears that got waaaay too close, the two porcupines that scared the shit out of me and a creeper camper that I nearly shot, it was a lovely, rejuvenating experience. Partly because I got to be away from all humanity, completely alone, with no reminders of civilization. Partly because I brought no food with me (with the exception of kibble for the pup) so I didn’t even have the option of eating.
I had a bit of a meltdown last night. It lasted only a few minutes before I managed to get my body under control, but I’m still embarrassed. We weren’t necessarily taught to bottle up emotions in my family, but we were taught to be strong. In my mind, showing that you’re at the breaking point is nothing but weakness. My dad tried to comfort me, but he said all the wrong things. I wish I could tell him about the ED worms that are crawling around in my brain, biting off small chunks, savoring their meal. I’m not sure he’d understand. He’d tried to fix me with duct tape and zip ties, putting me back together with all the wrong pieces. Cramming square pegs into round holes. It doesn’t seem worth the bother.
I asked my roomie about the missing Tupperware containers. Apparently she gave them to her mom by mistake, thinking she was returning borrowed property. She said she’d get them back today.
One mystery solved. Now I just have to figure out how a 125 pound girl can eat a Costco size box of Cheez-its in one day and not gain weight.