In the three weeks since my last update, I must have written and deleted about 10,000 words because I haven’t been able to write anything that passed the Sheylara OCD Edit.
The Sheylara OCD Edit is a stringent editing process in which I read through my draft the next day and if, at any point, I feel like gagging or develop the urge to hurl myself off a very tall building or simply fall asleep, I destroy all the words, hide in the cupboard and contemplate an alternative career in, say, grocery picking or lion taming.
I’ve contemplated alternative non-writing careers a bajillion times over the years. And, still, my blog sits there, year after year, taunting me with its unupdatedness, sending me bills every month to pay for its privilege to sit there and taunt me with its unupdatedness.
I need chocolate.
Which is another way of saying that I’ve gone off my 30-day reset diet.
I’d written about 2,000 words explaining why — it was a bit of a rant — but it didn’t pass the Sheylara OCD Edit so it’s all gone. No one wants to read 2,000 words of someone ranting about going off a diet, anyway.
So, here’s a one-line summary: My supposedly acid-reflux healing diet gave me acid reflux on Day 7 because I’m intolerant to coconut products and curry powder, so I got angry and staged a rebellion.
Well, I haven’t completely gone off the diet. I’ve merely postponed it for several reasons which no one will bother to read so I won’t bother to write.
The diet did work to a good extent since it’s basically a diet that avoids foods known to induce adverse reactions. But I’m just one of those people who’s allergic to everything and safe from nothing so, eventually, something always gets me.
I mean, the whole reason I started getting severe acid reflux was because I decided to introduce some “healthy” habits — drinking camomile and green tea instead of Earl Grey, drinking more water throughout the day, doing HIIT workouts, etc, all of which I found out the hard way are acid reflux triggers for health-resistant people like me.
So, like I said, I got angry and rebelled. I went on a strike. Kind of against myself. Because it makes perfect sense for people to rail against themselves when something bad happens to them that isn’t their fault.
For a whole week, I woke up whenever I wanted, slept whenever I wanted, ate whatever I wanted and did whatever I wanted.
It was kind of nice. Like a vacation. But like one of those vacations where your stomach doesn’t like the local food so it spends half your vacation complaining about it to the toilet in your hotel room.
Still, it was a good vacation. While I did suffer myriad digestive problems from eating whatever the damn I felt like, the chocolates and biscuits (which I’d lain off for like four months previously) drowned my brain in endorphins and drove the anger away.
I’m ready to start clawing my way back to good health again.
And I’m back staring at this WordPress editor full of words I might decide to completely obliterate at the next reading.
Or maybe I will just post it.