It's My (Pity) Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

I am discouraged (and pained) to the point of tears right now. I believe I have a high tolerance for pain. At least three medical professionals (my doctor, my chiropractor and my dentist) have confirmed this, so I believe it to be true. There are days, however, when the pain gets to be too much. This is one of those days. Couple that with the discouragement of majorly elevated blood sugar (due to a new anti-inflammatory medication) requiring me to go back on Glipizide and we enter prime binge territory ... or what would have been prime binge territory two months ago.

I tell you, it's like a switch has been flipped. The thought of seeking comfort from food feels so foreign to me, a world away. I know the truth now ... that food does not bring comfort, only momentary distraction. Actually, it's more than knowing. I fancy myself a fairly intelligent person who's always known that food doesn't bring comfort. However, I've been helpless (or so it seemed) in the past to resist the call of sugary sweet, fat laden confections that always called my name in situations such as these. But I don't hear their voices today, at least not over the sound of my crying. But what I do hear, in spite of my tears, is the still small voice of my Comforter telling me that He holds all things together and I don't have to. Yeah ... I 'm not even gonna try to hold it together today, Lord. You've got this ... You've got me. Pity party over.