Crash, bang, thud!

That's the sound of me falling off the wagon. I didn't do it just to show solidarity, I really didn't see it coming. I'm allowed one cheat day in the first month, and I guess strictly speaking that probably means at the end of the first month. Now my first month isn't up till the middle of next week, but I'd been ill for a week for so and lost my appetite ( no excuse to go making up for it, I know) and part of the illness, just a bad cold and general bleugh feeling, seemed to be feeling very down and tearful. When I feel like that the old way of thinking crowds in on me and I feel overwhelmed and unable to cope. The housework piles up, making the feeling even worse because now I have a chaotic house and no energy to do anything about it and even less inclination because it's now such a major task that I can't see where to start. I decided to be nice to myself and bring my cheat day forward by a week or so. So I had a few pieces of the fudge that the girls had made and then had fish and chips (home made, there's no fish and chips shops for miles!) and figured that was it, hop back up on the wagon and head for the hills. But no. I had a fun evening planned the following night, a dance at the local village hall, and it was a 'bring a dish' supper. I didn't really know whether I'd cope with the restrictions of my diet as most if not all of the food would be off limits. I also didn't want to play the game of not eating anything and politely declining the food on offer. That just seemed so naff. So I cheated again. Properly. Not just a mouthful of this and a smackerel of that. I had exactly what I wanted, including the chocolate desserts, and made up my mind not to feel guilty about it. So that was nearly the end of it. The way I see it Mother's day is a day for mothers to do what they feel like doing. Given the fact that dh has also come down with the lurgy I couldn't have everything i wanted, as I was on duty looking after kids, animals and house, so I chose to treat myself to a box of choccies. Haven't done that for a couple of years, due to developing an allergy to chocolate, but I decided to put up with the resulting rash (actually, and this is very dangerous for me to admit to myself, I haven't come out in a rash...yet). I ate the whole box except for a couple that I shared, washed down with two cups of decaff coffee, also off limits. And I loved every self-indulgent minute of it.
I don't really know how or whether to justify all that to myself. It really was a horrible week. I had my first major wobble about having moved to a small, close knit, very rural community. I began to wonder whether we'd moved to the right place or not. I don't regret moving to the north east at all. It was absolutely the right thing to do, but the community we've moved to is kind of difficult. We moved two and a half years ago so I'm probably doing well not to have wobbled before now. Wherever we lived we'd probably feel like square pegs given our views and our lifestyle, but I feel soo alien to the prevailing attitudes round here, and there are some things I don't dare admit to the people I meet as I don't want my family or me to be ostracised. And it's very stressful to feel that you have to hide your true self so as not to upset other people or cause an argument. Also dh pointed out that we don't know anyone else in our home community who has small children. We know one woman who has two older children and that's about it. No wonder I feel a bit isolated and out on a limb. Well, I guess the next year or so will be a time to assess what we've gained by being here and what we've lost, and see how the balance sheet looks at the end of it all.
In the meantime, has anyone seen a wagon around here with a seat spare?