I am sitting at my desk, staring a piece of chocolate goodness. I haven’t opened the plastic container, but it appears to be a brownie with chocolate frosting, drizzled in white chocolate and topped with crushed Oreos.
I don’t know why I bought it. I don’t want to eat it.
Actually, I do want to eat it, but I know won’t enjoy it. I bought it on an impulse, a fleeting hope that eating it would make me feel better. It might, for a brief few moments. After that, I’ll be beating myself up over it.
I’ve been doing so well with not gorging myself on random food, but being conscious of what I eat and when and why. Craig and I have been walking a lot, and we just joined the gym. I feel better, I’m sleeping well, and I like that I’m seeing results, both physically and emotionally.
I am an emotional eater, but I don’t always overeat. Sometimes I don’t eat at all, or limit my eating to just what I need to get through the day. When I’m nervous, I eat. Right now I’m in overeat mode, and I’m fighting it.
I’m not nervous about the wedding, at least not yet.
Tomorrow I have to convey to an Assistant Attorney General for the State of Illinois how the deaths of my daughters have shattered me. How it has affected every facet of my life.
Tomorrow I have to describe how I have struggled with anger, grief, depression, rage, sadness, emptiness and loneliness, among others. I have to illustrate Jessica and Kelli with words – their personalities, their lives, their impact on the world, and how that world is so diminished now.
I go in there tomorrow to tell this attorney that not only did I lose my daughters, but so did their father. Their siblings lost sisters. Their grandparents lost grandchildren. Family, friends, teachers, employers, community members –I am the representative of everyone who has been changed by their deaths.
I willingly shoulder this responsibility and welcome the opportunity. I know can do this.
It still makes me nervous.
I have to do them proud.