Binging and Purging... is it really so wrong?

I know. You're thinking that I am making a statement about eating disorders.  I am not.  I am merely talking about the psychological need to binge (do too much of something) and purge (getting rid of things).  I have spent the week being snowed in (we got a very rare 15 inches of snow here in the NW. It sucked).  Despite school being called, I went in and worked three of the four days.  On the day that I stayed home and the subsequent evenings, I purged.  I cleaned out closets, packed up the clothes I needed to get rid of.  I carried four bags of clothes, plus two boxes to the garage.  I cleaned out the storage room, and got rid of baby clothes we were hanging onto for the potential next baby that will never materialize.  Oddly enough, I felt very refreshed, invigorated.  Oh, believe me, I totally lost it at least three times.  Completely bawled. Thought, why did he leave me?  Every time I picked up a shirt and thought, "I remember..." I just lost it.  Which, I like to think is normal.  But purging seems to fulfill something deep, something psychological that sets us free.  I don't know; I try not to be amateur shrink, but there seems to be some kind of endorphin rush to the letting go.  It brought me peace, and I know not why.

On the same note, I've also found it quite lovely to binge...  so to speak.  On red wine (just convinced myself I could handle opening a second bottle... I am sure that there's no need to be concerned with that...) and self-pity.  I feel like I hold myself to a level of "don't eat that", and I don't, but then when I am ready to eat, I do, with gusto. I had a beautiful smothered pork chop with a maitake mushroom cream sauce that was to die for tonight.  I had tea and toast for the other meal (note singular).  And I am currently in love with the fig newton.  And the raspberry newton.  Pathetic.  When your most satisfying relationship is with a cookie; no correction: fruit and cake. 

X emailed me tonight.  I love talking with him; he just makes me feel, if for nothing more than a few moments, that I have a partner again, someone to talk quietly with at night, to share, to listen.  He probably thinks that he's earning his way into martyrdom by being sympathetic to a widow, but I have to say, I wait for his emails.  It's lame, I know.  I think that must be the hardest part.  Not just to lose the person, but the intimacy, the partnership, the sharing.  I miss that the most. 

I know, I can hear you.  You're passing judgment and commenting that I shouldn't have opened the second bottle. 

Whatever. Tomorrow, I will clean out another closet and call it good.

What goes best with cake: red or white?

So this week began the first of the birthday celebrations.  I turn 38 in 10 days.  My parents came over today to celebrate, since they will be out of town for my special day and the weekends that flank it (it's on a Tuesday this year).  My daughter loves it, because clearly, when you're three, it doesn't really matter who's birthday it is.  There's cake. There's candles.  It's her party. Period.

So I have been reading this great blog about simplifying my life, clearing out clutter, initiating healthy-lifestyle habits, keeping things simple.  I love it.  In fact, I love reading it so much, I chose to do so while I put on an On Demand episode of Wow Wow Wubbzy while I eat a second piece of raspberry filled birthday cake and wash it down with a nice cabernet sauvignon.  Hey... don't judge.  It's MLK day tomorrow, and I think that when he was talking about the promised land, I am pretty sure that there was red wine there. 

I love the "simple" life, and as soon as I cease to be a materialistic moron, I am sure I will love it even more.  I have successfully cleared out two closets and the pantry.  Then I bought $300 worth of shoes from Nordstrom and have about 15 glassybabies in my shopping cart, just hoping for a gift certificate for my birthday.  I know, I am sure that this is not quite what zenhabits.com had in mind... but I really love glassybaby.  And Nordstrom.  And shoes.

I will say, I have begun the new year with a positive attitude, and am feeling not so miserable about my life.  I am not saying I don't cry.  I totally lost it the other night as I was getting ready for the upcoming season's Downton Abbey (I just love that Anna and her Mr. Bates!), but I would like to think that was more about great love that doesn't work out than my situation.  Or it also could have been an entire bottle of my new fav, Three Blind Moose cabernet.  Whatever.  My new year is off to a better place, I guess.  I have a great kid, a challenging career, and I have decided that I am going for my doctorate.  I am not sure if this is a sign of complete lack of mental reasoning, but what the hell.  I clearly am going to have to work until I am dead, so at least people will actually have to call me "Dr." in my eulogy. 

So here I sit, thinking about my future, and wondering if I ever thought last year that it would be the last with my husband.  Sometimes I think about why it all happened, and I question if what all those beautifully worded Hallmark cards had the right idea.  Is there a plan?  Will it make me stronger?  Will he live forever in my heart?  I don't even know.  What I know is this: I miss him.  I miss the dumb corny jokes that he thought were hilarious.  I have to say that I held it together pretty well over the holidays, and only really lost it once... When I heard "The Little Drummer Boy".  He used to always say, "Who the hell plays a drum for an infant?  My mother would have said something like 'No, go play that in the other room.  You're going to hurt the baby's ears.  No, go ahead, he can still here you from there..."  I just laughed and cried at the same time.

That seems to be the stuff I really miss. The ridiculous.  Thinking about him and the stupid stuff he did or said just makes me remember why he was so awesome.  I was lucky to have 14 years with him.

So as I embark on my 38th year in this life, I think about what I want, what I want for my kid, and what I need to do to be happy.  I know I'll get there... and it won't include this raspberry filled cake.

I am going to go put on his "In case of zombie apocalypse, choose your weapon" t-shirt and have another glass of wine.