They say a certain amount of detoxing is to be expected. You can expect hunger pangs, a white, thickly coated tongue, headaches, dizziness, and even extra foul body odor.
What none of the websites told me was that I would literally want to hibernate. It's not because I am hungry. It's not because I feel bad. It's because fasting has made me mean.
I have been doing the best I can for the last two days to keep my emotions in check. I've taken deep breaths. I've prayed. I've gone in the other room. But ohmigosh I'm cranky! And today, crankiness culminated with me in a heap in the kitchen.
All day I've wanted nothing more than to be ALONE. Then, because E and The Champ are both here, I immediately felt guilty about that and tried to plug in as best I could. I gave out lots of hugs to my kid, kissed his cheeks numerous times, and told him over and over how much I loved him. I apologized to the The Champ for being so testy, I hugged him, and offered to cook food for him. I'm REALLY TRYING. But the little things annoyed me all day long. EVERYONE JUST GET OUT OF MY WAY!
My patience has been paper thin, and I'm coming up with the most out of character ways to busy myself in solitude. I even got down on my hands and knees and mopped the kitchen floor for a moment of peace. But E has practically turned into a little barnacle the last few days (a precious, lovable little barnacle), and it's next to impossible to get a moment alone. He wants me to cuddle on the couch with him. He wants me to color with him. He wants me to sit with him while he uses the potty. In my decent moments, I've done the good mom/therapist thing and asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about, was he okay, did he know he was loved? All that stuff. But in my thoroughly fasted and wrung out moments I just want to yell, "LEAVE ME ALONE! I WANT TO POOP BY MYSELF AND WITHOUT YOU PLAYING STAR WARS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR!"
Then later, after a conversation about wanting to eat healthier and introduce healthier habits for E, we fixed him a lunch of chicken, spinach leaves with ranch dressing (which he loves) a cheese stick, and some sliced strawberries (sprinkled with stevia). I was proud of us for making the effort. But all he would do was whine about not liking the strawberries and kept making faces like we were asking him to eat chunks of acid soaked asbestos. I think what I actually said was, "Just eat as many as you can," but in my head I heard, "JUST EAT THE DAMN STRAWBERRIES!"
I haven't been any better to The Champ. The man will deserve a medal when this is all said and done. I've been super sensitive to him all day long. If he looked at me a certain way, I assumed he was pissed. If he used an irregular tone of voice, I immediately questioned him. I think The Champ recognized he was living in a war zone and quickly shuffled E right out of the door to the safety of walmart. I was so thankful. Then, just a bit ago, he and E came in from the store where they had gone to buy a few healthy goodies so they could start this whole healthy eating endeavor now instead of waiting until I'm done fasting. AND THEY WOKE ME UP.
I chose that precise moment to attack. I waited until my prey (The Champ) had innocently made eye contact when I snapped with as much indignation as I could muster, "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU? WHY ARE YOU SO PISSY?! WHY DO YOU KEEP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?!" Poor thing never knew what hit him. He stumbled over his words, rightfully wounded, trying to simultaneously to fend off his attacker and keep from losing his shit. He gathered his composure (because he's The Champ and he's miraculously able to remain calm when faced with my complete irrationality), and he said sweetly, "Babe, I think you're being a little overly sensitive."
And THAT'S when I started crying in the kitchen. Full on, head buried in his shirt, heaving sobs, 'what is wrong with me, I feel like I'm losing my mind', crying. I felt him put his arms around me, and I heard my 5 year old say, "What's wrong with mommy?"
The Champ replied, "Oh she's okay. Mommy's just..." and then he trailed off as he patted my back, because really, there just weren't words for what Mommy was right then.
And then I felt two little arms stretch around me, and a little 5 year old hand on the small of my back, and a little 5 year old forehead leaning into my side, and I heard a little 5 year old voice say, "It's okay Mommy. I know just how you feel."
I knew about the headaches. I knew about the hunger. I knew about the dizziness and the coated tongue and the body odor. But none of the websites, not a single one, mentioned that I would find myself in my kitchen, in the middle of the day one Saturday,
detoxing out of my eyeballs and sandwiched between my whole wide world.
I have never been more unlovable. And I have never felt more loved.
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