Banish the I Wants ...
As the Robert Burns poem states, the best laid plans of mice and men can quickly go awry. I did an excellent spinning workout this morning--really pushed myself even though I had lifted weights and run 3 miles yesterday in the late afternoon. It felt good, and I felt strong. I got home and 12 year old son was crying and saying, "I don't feel well." I asked if he knew I was at the Y and he said he did. My husband could not stay home today, so I did. Then, 15 year old son (I really need some good nicknames) got up and was sick, too. Got both boys into the doctor and both have viral infections--possibly differing ones--sigh. So, the winter drags on more, but that is another story for another time.
I got home from the doctor with the guys, and I was hungry and cold. I took a short nap and I was still hungry and cold. I had some coffee, which helped, but the "I wants ..." started. I wanted chips. I had chips--about 2 servings. I was still hungry but there was not time for lunch (I had to go in to work for a short time). I decided on 2 cheese sticks and held my ground. While coming home from work for lunch and stay with my sick kids, I had all sorts of "I wants ...". These ran through my head like the lyrics and rhythm of a bad song.
I want my favorite noodle dish.
I want an egg salad sandwich.
I want my favorite noodle dish.
I want an egg salad sandwich.
Pretty soon, I nearly had myself fooled that the decision was really between these two choices and NOT the healthy salad I had prepared at home. Since my eating has been precarious for two days, I needed to get myself in check. My salad sounded less than appealing. I did not want it. I did not want it all even though it was sitting already prepared in my refrigerator.
Eventually, I thought: If I am going to have a salad, I really want a taco salad. I then started longing for tomatoes, salsa, taco-seasoned beans, sour cream, chips, cheese or any combination thereof. Suddenly, the decision became between a taco salad or my salad. Of course, the lettuce was always greener in the other bowl of salad that I did not have in front of me--the familiar cliche about green grass goes something like that in this story. I didn't have any of the ingredients for a taco salad, and my salad was already made. Logically, I knew the way to feeling satisfied is through eating MY salad rather than going through all these convoluted other choices that would require more work, money, and traveling than my choice--besides which, I needed to get home to my 12 year old. I tried to see my salad for the goodness that it was. MY salad was prepared with fresh baby romaine lettuce, cucumber, and aduki beans with a little hummus on top and a carefully moderated amount of honey mustard dressing. Most days, I would be thrilled having a prepared salad like this in the fridge when I was hungry. But, today, the disordered thinking nearly got the better of me.
Ultimately, I am proud to say that my logic won out with a small emotional concession granted to keep me from larger indiscretions. Trying to get just a little bit closer to dream of the taco salad, I added one serving of sour cream. My salad was delicious, and I do not want any other types of food now. Had I gone the way of noodles, egg salad or taco salad, I would feel unsatisfied and unhappy with myself. As is, I am no longer hungry and I am no longer craving things I do not have or want to have. I am happy with myself. Today, I get to write the happy ending. I like happy endings. I just need to write them for myself more often.
No comments:
Post a Comment