Yesterday I announced to the world-wide web that I’d be starting a restrictive diet tomorrow, and I’ve been in a bad mood ever since. Like, I haven’t even give up bread or coffee yet and I’m already going through withdrawals. Last night I piled shredded cheese onto a dozen Triscuits, and was practically apologizing to the wheat and dairy–I’m so sorry I won’t be able to eat you for at least thirty days. It’s not you, it’s me. Dad said he thought part of my bad mood and general irritation was due to having been treated and fed like royalty for ten days then returning home to Van Buren. He may have a point. Imagine–here I’m having to prepare my own meals.

It’s so–what’s the word?–barbaric.

Since the food ax falls in the morning, I just went grocery shopping to stock up on all things healthy. (Don’t I sound excited?) Y’all, grocery shopping goes so fast when you can’t have chips, sauces, sugar, dairy, grains, or anything that tastes good. You just whip your cart around the fruit and vegetable section (woowho!), grab some protein, and you’re out in a flash. And I don’t know what it is–I came home with three big fabric bags of food, and I’m still afraid of starving this week. As if I’m going to waste away because I’m giving up beer and peanuts.

But really–I’ll miss you, Corona.

I keep telling myself Autoimmune Paleo is a good idea, that I’ve tried everything else to support my immune system, that eating well can’t hurt. This morning I woke up at ten, was awake for a few hours, then crashed hard for a nap. I’ve been feeling good lately, but my energy has disappeared since coming home from traveling. Maybe it’s “just something else,” or maybe it’s the vaccines I got Friday. I read online that those can make you tired, and my arms are still sore at the injection sites. Regardless, I feel like I’ve got to try something. I’m just not good at sitting still.

I think this drives me a lot, the idea that life can be better. My body has been dragging for months, years really, and I’m at the point where I’m willing to try almost anything to see improvement. I’m simply not willing to accept the way things are–for the moment, yes, but not forever. This is why I continue to go to therapy, to explore different avenues of growth and self-development. We live in a big, infinite universe, and I refuse to believe that I have to live the rest of my life tired and exhausted or nervous, afraid, and insecure (about anything). Some days I have more resolve than others, but overall I’m determined–I’m going to have a better life; I’m going to find my way home.

This is something I would tell anyone who is struggling internally or externally–don’t stop looking for answers. Sure, there are plenty of times that we have to accept life for what it is, and there’s a lot of peace in that. But I don’t think that means we have to believe that the way things are now are the way things will always be. After all, everything changes. And what else is hope but a belief that not only do things change, but also that they change for the better? That’s what I’m coming to believe, that hope is a good thing and a real thing–that even our challenges exist in order to call us toward something better and more beautiful within ourselves, to reveal our strengths, to remind us that we are so much more than we ever realized.