I had a bit of a meltdown when we met with Smith last night. He came by to go over our food journals and to talk to Hubs about his workouts, supplements, and all that good stuff. I sat in on their conversation and made an ass of myself by getting upset. I felt like I was being accused of sabotaging Hubs again, because he ate crap for lunch at work on days when I didn't pack the meal for him. So of course, I cried. I'm not sure what reaction I thought that would get, but I wasn't expecting what Smith did.
He put me in time out.
Seriously. He made me leave the room until he was finished with Hubs. I stomped to my office and sat their crying for a good ten minutes, kind of feeling sorry for myself. I felt guilt, and anger, and sadness, and frustration. I cried. I played some John Mayer.
Then Smith knocked on the door. He came in and sat down, and before he said anything, he gave me a hug. (Anyone want to guess what happens when you hug a tearful Fattie? Yeah. More tears.) We talked for a while about what's going on with me. He knows I'm depressed, and he wants me to work on that during this (totally frustrating and annoying) physical down-time. I agree with him -- I am depressed, and if I don't fix that first, any weight loss or physical change that I make happen won't stick.
Poor Smith -- he thought this was going to be a personal training gig, and now here he is being my therapist.
So, that's how we chose this week's habit: Do something creative - EVERY DAY. And ask for what I need, like, you know, HELP.
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