Sean will be home from work soon and he will be here with me all weekend so I'm feeling a bit better knowing that I can relax a little now, but this morning I felt like I could care less if I lived or died. If I didn't have these sweet babies to take care of--and heal for--I would've stayed in bed. I keep thinking that feeling so uprooted because of a simple diet and medication is ridiculous, that I should be able to handle this without much distress. The truth is I am not able to function. My body is starving constantly even after eating, I'm feeling weak and dizzy, my mind is cloudy, and I'm desperate. Knowing that I have to wake up in the morning and care for two small children is a struggle.
I messed up pretty good this morning and started screaming at a family member, screaming hard using plenty of swear words and things I wouldn't normally think of saying. I did this in front of Dylan as we sat for breakfast at the kitchen table. I then ran into another room and shut the door and cried my eyes out. When I realized that I had completely lost my cool I quickly dried my eyes and found Dylan sitting on the floor of the kitchen. I crouched down to him and, "Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to act like that. Mama needed a Time Out for being fresh." Dylan hugged me and said, "I'm sorry for being fresh, Mama." I had to explain to him that he did absolutely nothing wrong, it was my fault, and I held him so tight. I could've just curled up in a ball and died right there.
I'm going through drug withdrawal. Food withdrawal. Emotional struggles. Sickness.
I spent the rest of the day trying to make it up to Dylan although inside I was feeling like my soul had completely left my body. We played outside with worms and bikes, played trucks, watched his favorite truck shows, cuddled. I told him that I was having a bad day and I was sorry. Dylan is resilient when he falls or scrapes his knee but he is sensitive and holds things inside. When he was little he went through a biting phase and bit me hard on the shoulder enough to make me cry, he talked about it for weeks. I'd tuck him in at night and he'd say, "I bit Mama. I made Mama cry, Mama." He would lie there under his covers and look up as if he was thinking about how horrible he had been. He did the same thing when he went through a big hitting phase and hit his friend Jovani. "I hit Jo Jo, Mama. Jo Jo cried." I really fucked up today when I lost my cool. He woke up from his nap needing to be held a lot and feeling very clingy.
I snuck one Dorito today. One Dorito yesterday, too. It's come to craving dairy and processed foods so hard that one Dorito can calm me down for a few minutes. This morning we made French toast with iodine-free bread, corn oil to coat the pan, egg whites, sugar, and cinnamon.
This is normally a staple food for me and it really didn't taste much different than it usually does, and yet I still had to fight it down my throat.
I want to throw in the towel.
But moms can't just quit. I can't stop being there for my babies. I can't hide under the covers. I have to deal with this withdrawal. I have to get cancer treatment. I have to be healthy.
I'm not sure I have the strength for this.