Which would you prefer? Tarantulas or scorpions?

Yesterday, I stared into the abyss of my well stocked pantry, and I hit the "wall."  The wall that comes out of nowhere, that you stand it the base flat on your ass and wonder how you got there.  The wall that is so tall that it seemingly has no end.  And all you have is a teaspoon that you mindlessly and frantically use to scoop out any and all dirt from the base in the vain hope that if you can't get over it, at least you can go under it.  But the foundation is deep and you are so so tired.

Meal planning or any effort at all to put food on the table has become so disheartening and stressful, I don't even want to eat anymore.  But I do, spoonful by spoonful, because of who is watching.  Because if I require her to, how can I not?  Putting food in front of her can go one of two ways.  She grudgingly eats it like a robot programmed to pick up a spoon and shovel things from her plate to her mouth. Or it can go like today, where you'd swear that you must have put a plate of writhing cockroaches in front of her by the sheer veracity of the reaction.

And in some ways, maybe I did.  I've had it described to me that asking her to choose between two different meal options is like asking her to choose between eating tarantulas and scorpions.  I spent at least 20 minutes being screamed at because I had the audacity to put food in front of her and expect her to eat it.

Just keep digging.  Spoonful by spoonful.