I’ve been feeling rather worn out for the past few weeks. I felt like I was buried in responsibilities. Some days I tried to take a break to care for my body, but my work piled up and I’d feel guilty about that. I’d create extra stress by not having a clear space to cook dinner because I’d never cleaned up from breakfast! Or Hannah couldn’t find clean gym clothes because I hadn’t washed them yet. Other days I would trudge through the housework and get it done, but I felt burdened and resentful as I went about my day. Any little unexpected thing would put me over the edge, and I was snapping at my kids A LOT!

I didn’t know why I was feeling this way. I thought I was being careful with my diet and supplements. I know exercise is a big factor, especially for O’s, but I find it hard to exercise when I’m tired, dizzy, and in pain. Overall, I was feeling hopeless and depressed, because I didn’t know what caused my fatigue, so I didn’t know how to fix things.

This past Saturday was the Bar Mitzvah of a close friend’s son. There was no way I could miss it, even though I really wanted space alone and was dreading the large crowd. It wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated; it was kind of like I was exercising emotional muscles. It was hard, but it felt good. I also made some “less than perfect” food choices at the party. I stayed away from wheat, potatoes, and obvious corn, but I didn’t worry about additives in the fish or deli meat, or what might have been in the salad dressing, and I ate the tomatoes and cucumbers. Overall I ate lots of veggies and protein, but I also know I ate chemical food additives, "avoid" oils, vinegar, possible potato starch, and either sugar or corn syrup.

By Monday, I was even more of a mess than usual for me. Once I recognized that I was reacting to what I ate on Saturday, it helped me put things into perspective. I know that food reactions are temporary, as long as I proceed to eat right so my body can clear out the toxins. The physical symptoms were still present, but I had hope again. I also analyzed how I’ve been eating the last few weeks, and realized that a few “avoids” have managed to slip in. I ate some sweet potato chips made with “avoid” oils, along with a lot of mozzarella cheese and a little bit of tomato sauce. That can probably account for a lot of how I’ve been feeling.

I’ve been eating clean again since Sunday, so some of these toxins are getting cleared out. Yesterday I made “self nurturing” my primary focus. I went clothes shopping for myself, and I took a hot bath in the middle of the afternoon. But more than the specific things I did, I gave myself permission to be a little self-indulgent, and not spend every waking moment worried about the house or the kids. That attitude shift has made a world of difference.

I’m feeling a whole lot calmer now, and ready to tackle my work.

I was planning to write a blog about the Jewish holiday of Purim; one of the happiest times in the Jewish calendar. But I just can’t get myself into that spirit right now. All I can really think about is that my father passed away two days after Purim last year.

The Jewish laws regarding mourning for a parent last for a full calendar year. I really haven’t been myself this whole time. I wonder if I’ll feel more whole once the year of mourning is complete, or if his yartzeit (anniversary of his death on the Jewish calendar) will just dredge up even more pain. I suppose the point is to have the mourning process go through the whole cycle of seasons, and all the holidays, and this is the last holiday in that cycle.

It’s not like my father and I were even close. He worked 70+ hours a week when I was growing up. Most of my telephone conversations with him consisted of “Hi Dad, it’s Ruth. Is Mom there?” Even the last few years, when I lived in an apartment in my parents’ home, I still didn’t see much of him, or talk to him much. We just never had much to say.

Thinking of him is more about regret. What could have been. Opportunities I didn’t take to get to know him. Jealousy that my son had a better relationship with him than I or my brother ever had. This isn’t about thinking of a great man I knew and loved and miss, and I feel kind of guilty about that. This is all about what could have and maybe should have been.

Could he have been saved if he’d eaten right for his type? We only found out his blood type a month or so before he died. I did notice that he seemed more peaceful and easier to connect to when he wasn’t eating chicken, which is an avoid for B’s. Could we have at least gotten more out of the time he had with us if he’d eaten better, even if we couldn’t get any more time with him?

But then I have to remember that not everything is about blood type or diet. Knowing his blood type 15 years earlier might have changed nothing. I can’t fix the world; I can’t make anybody else take care of themselves, and I certainly don’t have the energy to take care of everybody. Some days I barely have the mental energy to take care of myself. Today is one of those days.