More *Feelings*

I guess I should just *share* my feelings today, and save myself the extra two pounds on the scale, stuffing them with food.

Last night my husband took his polygraph. It marks two years sobriety from porn and all other acting out behaviors. I'm really excited for him, and at the same time, a little anxious to get the results. I know that these tests produce a lot of anxiety for him as well, so I made plans for us to go out to the movies to relax and prematurely celebrate.

The movie we saw was Marley and Me. What can I say, I'm a sucker for a yellow lab. We used to have one, until he passed about four years ago. His name was Murphy and, true to form, he was much like the dog in the movie. I remember chasing him, along with some of my neighbors, down my street, waving Kraft cheese singles or whatever other tidbit I thought might entice him to come home on any given day. He would tear down the street away from us, with this look like, "Who are these people and why do they keep calling me Murphy?" We laughed a lot during the movie, remembering him and his crazy antics.

On to the not so happy feelings that are definitely chocolate worthy (at least in *my* mind they are). >>Spoiler alert << When Jen loses the first baby, my husband got very emotional when she got home and started crying. I just sat there in the theater thinking, "Are you serious? I lost four pregnancies in the same way and you didn't cry once for us."

The primitive part of me wanted to exert some revenge on Jennifer Aniston. And my husband. As if it were her fault that my husband couldn't show emotion back then. And as if my husband was just upset for her because she was pretty. But then the rational, recovery part of me cut him slack, knowing that he isn't the same person he was back then. He used to stuff and medicate his feelings, the same way I did.

It makes me wonder if I come preprogrammed with these negative, hateful messages toward myself, because routinely the *first* type of thing that comes into my mind is "It's all because I'm not pretty, thin, funny, etc. enough." Why doesn't the recovery thought come *first* in my mind? Why is there always this internal battle between my subconscious and conscious mind? And when? When will my recovery brain take over and beat the initial reactive thought into submission? The whole process seems to move at a glacier's pace sometimes (sigh). It's like watching paint dry.

Sorry to be such a downer. I'm just wishing I could control my own thoughts about myself.