Everything was going so well -- then out of the blue, I crashed and burned. One day, after several weeks of averaging 80% raw or so, I was just so tired that I pissed the morning away, and decided that a glut at the Indian buffet would perk me up. Instead, it opened the doors of hunger and I became voracious -- I had three plates overflowing. Yes, half of each was salad, but I couldn't stop taking halves of naan bread, I simply couldn't get ENOUGH.
Needless to say, I hardly perked up; instead, the rest of the day was also pissed away, reading scary, sad news of human rights abuses and environmental degradation in Mother Jones News. I intended to get up early and get right back on the smoothie routine, not to let a little slip distract me, but I still don't have my sense of taste back, and the thought of sewage-sludge-textured smoothies, or mealy sour fruit (the SAME damn ones for four months now!), was unthinkable. Another low-raw day followed the first, with the grand finale being a trip to the coop for chocolate cake. At least it was vegan and gluten-free, but as I headed towards the line, I had that freaky form of paranoia again: it's not enough!! So I added a bag of potato chips to boot, and that was dinner, as I thought about all the refugees in the world who had nothing at all for dinner, which perversely made ME even hungrier.
That tipping seems to have portended a little crisis; I got an unexpected bill this morning, large enough to take all the money I needed to do another bout of advertising next month, and suddenly the seriousness of my financial situation hit me. Having to visit my mother, after my brother mindlessly told her a check she'd sent him bounced -- which in her Alzheimer's mind translated into OMG, I have no more money at all!! -- was the straw that broke this camel's back. I stopped at the coop to get a cup of mate tea, and they were out; nothing for it but to get coffee instead. I at least got half decaf, and it neither tasted very good nor gave my semi-panicked mind the longed-for perk. I have passed the day in a fog of fear about how I am going to support myself for the rest of my life, and the answers are not cheerful. In comparison, suddenly this little experiment seems trite, and I don't even care that much today that I am still on a cooked-food bender.
I'd just sent money in to register for a Buddhist retreat this weekend dealing with healing (especially for professionals), deciding at the last moment that it would shift me back to my recently-preferred raw state and therefore would be worth the cost plus another weekend without income or time to do chores. Now I'm sorry I committed the money and time; I can only hope the information comforts me somehow. I have no time before it starts tonight to make lunches; what will I take?!