It’s day 16 of my NO wheat, dairy, yeast and alcohol fit and it’s not going well. It’s not like I’m “cheating” or anything but I’ve not been well, I’m sensitive and I find myself wanting to devour a loaf of raison bread or any other comfort food (mainly bread).

Master 6 loves raisin toast so it’s in the house most days. I am grateful that my sense of smell is dead and I do not have to be tempted by wafting aromas of cinnamon and warm raisins as I make his third piece. Meanwhile, I’m spreading another rice cake with chunky peanut butter.

It’s been over a week now since I contracted a cold that has shifted to my chest and considering I have weak lungs already, it’s messy. I also have a sore throat and the obvious sinus congestion but I am not willing to seek the help of western medicine….yet.

I returned to my weekly yoga class yesterday where I had to “take it easy” on the advice of my instructor. She made me realise that, YES I’m still sick and I need more rest. I do push myself physically on occasion, mostly when I shouldn’t do at all. But then, I got a wakeup call.

Whilst in a wide legged forward stretch, I nearly lost the plot. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and luckily I could bow to the tri-coloured carpet for solace. Some deep breaths took it all away. I stuffed the emotion down deep in my soul not even knowing where it was coming from. But later it resurfaced at the dinner table.

As per the norm, I made the menu for the evening’s dinner and prepared the feast alone: BBQ drumsticks, rice, sunrise carrots and steamed spinach. I like to cook and don’t mind preparing meals for my family. Dinnertime is not my favourite time of day because of the constant dramas created by Master 6. He’s one fussy bugger and kicks up a fuss at the table 90% of the time.

He did his usual whinge at the fact that I put a carrot on his plate but it was Mr M’s reaction to the BBQ chicken that set me off. Drumsticks are a bitch to cook on the BBQ because they take so long and usually burn a bit. I marinated them in a homemade teriyaki sauce before cooking so the sugars caused some additional burning.  When I told Mr M what the marinate was, he gave me, ‘Oh, that’s why’, with a look that was full of disappointment.

I could feel the tears brewing again as I forced a carrot in my mouth. As I chewed and tried to swallow, the bottled up feelings left over from the morning said, ‘Oh no, we don’t want any more of your suppression down here…get rid of it now,’ .  I felt the ugly cry invade my face and couldn’t sit there as Mr M ate and Master T picked and complained so I got up and left the room.

I had every intention of getting over it and returning to my meal but as I sat in the lounge overhearing a casual conversation that eventually escalated to a fight for an ice cream dessert, I couldn’t go back. I felt so unappreciated and tired that I just left Mr M to clean up and Master T to cry himself silly over carrots vs. ice cream while I showered and went to bed to read my MiNDFOOD magazine. Nearly 12 hours in bed did some good.

I woke this morning and felt slightly better. After my regular morning routine of mediation and the 5 Healing Tibetans, I made the boys pancakes for breakfast.

I’ve decided to forgo fitness training and other strenuous activities until I am better. I was considering starting a 2-week anti-candida diet this weekend but have also passed on this thought. Although I am trying to do what’s good for my body, sometimes it doesn’t work in your favour. Until I’m over this chest cold, nutrition; rest, relaxation and reading are my priorities.