Saturday, June 25, 2016

I Threw a Hissy Fit

The low drifted in as I prepared to settle in for savasana. The Dexcom confirmed that the sudden anxiety and irritation flooding my body was not a failure of my meditation but rather had more to do with my anticipatory morning-exercise-on-an-empty-stomach corrective bolus overshooting the mark.

I was hungry for breakfast, not glucose tabs, so I decided to wait, hoping I could make it home on a 78 gently drifting down.

I made it one block from the studio before I had to stop and cram 3 tabs angrily in my mouth, dizzy on a street corner. And suddenly I'd had it. I snapped. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about my ruined savasana, my failure in calculation, the frustration of having almost made it, the anticipation of having to wait even longer to eat my breakfast or else risk a boomerang blood sugar, the shame of being a crazy lady cramming oversize smarties into her mouth on a street corner. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I gave no f*cks about being an adult woman crying in public.

As my misery and I made our way home, I was reminded of one of my mom's favorite stories to tell about me. How when I was about 3, I threw a huge hissy fit on the floor of JC Penneys. And she just left me there, wailing, until I got over it and went to go find her.

Snuffling a bit, I thought to myself, what wouldn't my 3-year-old self have given to be allowed to have sugar candies during that tantrum? It probably would have ended the whole thing, honestly.

So I sucked it up, to honor my inner child. I showered and ate a breakfast that said inner child would have hated (plain yogurt and fiberful cereal and a little fruit) and felt better. Then I sat and watched TV for an hour because I'm an adult and I do what I want, dang it. 

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