I lied. Again. There is partial truth to my story about going to Jimmy Johns last night. It's pretty pathetic when you start to lie to yourself too. See when Hubby suggested either Chipotle or Jimmy Johns for lunch, I really did cringe. I have longed for a really good sandwich and JJ's has the best bread ever. But I've been terrified of bread lately. So on my way to work last week I got Chipotle instead of JJ's simply because I was afraid the bread would make me cry and I didn't want to cry at work.
Yesterday when Hubby asked, I pulled away. I cringed. And then I did it. "Can we do Jimmy John's? I have wanted it but haven't been able to have it lately." Why haven't you been able to have it?, he asks. One word from me. Bread. Bread, sweet, warm, beautiful bread. Is there anything about fresh bread that isn't comforting? The smell, the feel, the warmth, the taste. And yet I can't be comforted by it. Somehow I can only feel terror.
The really sad part is that the reason I told the story the way I did yesterday is because I couldn't admit that I had actually ASKED for bread. I hoped by lying to myself that I would be able to lie to orange. Hoping that she wouldn't make me pay. I lied, in all of the places, here, where it is supposed to be safe. Here where I spill my feelings instead of journaling because I'm too lazy to grab a pen and write. And I am annoyed that I didn't even feel safe being honest with myself. Orange is a bitch.