I've recently decided to make a shift in the direction of becoming a vegetarian. I've decided not to buy any more meat (not even a can of tuna!) until I finish eating what I already have in my kitchen -- which should be gone in a few weeks, at most. And at the rate I'm moving, I half expect I'll be over the urge to buy meat by then.
I'm reading labels even more intensely than ever. Many of my meals and snacks are vegetarian now, including this morning's breakfast: a peanut butter and banana sandwich on whole wheat toast with two dried dates on the side (one of my personal favorites). I've located my copy of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Being Vegetarian (bought more than a decade ago). I've started scanning my diabetic cookbooks for vegetarian recipes. And I'm scouting Amazon for new cookbooks in case I feel the need.
But while I'm delighted to keep you posted about my progress on this exciting new journey, that's not the point of today's post. Though it's how I came up with the idea.
Therapists call it "catastrophizing" and I used to be really good at it. It means going into a panic about any little thing. A flat tire? That would be good enough to convince me the Universe was crashing. Being unable to find a parking spot? I just knew it was going to cost me my job. Locking my keys in the car would send me over the edge in a New York minute. Spilling a quart of orange juice on the kitchen floor when I'm late for an appointment would make me suicidal. And don't even think about having some restaurant worker overcook my eggs! I could go into a tizzy over anything -- big or small -- and the amount of emotion was pretty much the same. The word had been rubbed right off my panic button a long time ago.
Over the years, I made some progress with not jumping to the conclusion that my life was over every time I had a bad day. But what really helped me get the hang of breathing through minor (or even not so minor) difficulties was being diagnosed with diabetes. All of a sudden, my uncontrolled emotions could -- and generally did -- send my blood glucose levels through the roof. And now, instead of just a flat tire, I was dealing with something that could turn into a real catastrophe.
The Universe sent me two curves this week. And since I'm one of those folks who overthinks and over-analyzes every possible detail of her life, I've already had to talk my brain out of overdrive multiple times in a few short days. One would think I might have learned to exhale sooner by this stage of my life, but not so much.
Anyway, the first curve (on Tuesday) involved the final nudge toward becoming a vegetarian. To make a long and winding road a simple statement, suffice it to say that my overall principles are consistent with the idea of not eating animals, but my belligerent commitment to doing whatever I please based on whatever I'm used to has influenced me to ignore my principles. *sigh*
As long as I've been ducking and running from the ultimate decision to go in this direction, one might imagine that I'd just say yes and get on with it. But managing diabetes makes diet complicated, at best. And I've got the hang of the way I'm handling it now and, frankly, dread trying to figure out how to do it differently. So Wednesday unfolded with my brain a jumble of thoughts and emotions. I bounced from grieving the loss of yogurt to balancing proteins and carbs to irritation and back to grieving over and over all day till I went to bed exhausted with the issue unresolved.
