The complexity is only highlighted, as one understands…
Over a decade ago, a team of doctors gave me a diagnosis of Fibromyalgia, Arthritis, and Borderline Lupus. The crippling came on overnight. I could barely function. In a flash, everything changed for me. Exercise became increasingly painful and avoided. Sleep did not refresh me when my pain eased enough to drift. My mind felt as if it was constantly in a fog and I could not recall common vocabulary mid-sentence. Dieting seemed useless, as I tortured myself only to find the scale would not budge.
As I began to eat low-glycemic index foods, keeping my sugars to a minimum, I saw the scale move in my favor. It was extremely slow. If I dropped more carbs and stuck with healthy protein choices, my fat melted away. My fatigue and pain would lessen and I could increase exercise. I began supplementing with magnesium and found my Fibromyalgia pain was controllable.
Sticking to this “healthy” plan came in waves. When my husband worked out-of-town, I always lost a good chunk of fat. When he returned, my weight also returned home. My husband believes I am sneaking abundant food behind his back once he gets home. He does not grasp my struggle. Nor do many of my friends. My well-intentioned friends who insist if I attended Weight Watchers I would lose the weight. They cannot believe I have stuck to the Weight Watchers diet in the past several times and still felt horrible and did not lose weight. I despair that some of those closest to me, who do not live in my shoes, doubt this is true.
Thus, I am on the horns of a dilemma. It may seem impossible to solve. I cannot rid my home of junk food to make eating healthy easier. I envy women who have husbands who allow them to toss the junk food out and cook healthy. I resent their advice to do the same, when it is not an option.
I must cook refined foods for my husband or it puts a horrible strain on my marriage and the family unit. My choice is to keep peace with my husband by preparing killer foods, which leaves me fat and miserable, or to split from my husband in order to feel alive and be healthy. However, as logic would have it, there are usually more than the two obvious options. Brainstorming is opening new doors or modifying the existing ones.
The truth be told, I hate who I have become. This is influencing every area of my life. My health has deteriorated over the last decade since my diagnosis, with major emphasis on the last two years. I am at the crossroads. The paths lead to life or death.
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