What I Miss About Emotional Eating

February 16, 2012

I’ve been dreaming about this post for a month.

I’ve been wondering exactly how to describe this feeling of loss that I have.

Loss that I can’t quite put my finger on.

Without consuming ____ to glue together all of my jagged edges, I feel a little like a bag of mirror shards, clanging around and reflecting one another’s sharpness.

Food used to tie it all together for me – family, romance, awkward social situations, fear, loneliness, anxiety. Nothing a bowl of mashed potatoes couldn’t fix.

The feeling that I have now is a little bit sad. I feel a little let down. The grandeur of going out and eating a fancy meal is a little less sparkly. The gnocchi has kind of lost it’s mystery.

I have never been so sick of eating vegetables in my life.

I miss the quick-fix, the bowl of beans and rice, the easy remedy that I could provide myself with the contents of my cupboards. Yes, I always knew this fix was fickle and short-lived, but in that moment, cheese solved most problems.

Without the food, the feelings are there, inmates clanging against their shackles and bars and demanding that I pay attention to them. They want me to know that while I was oh so busy trying to shut them up they were bored out of their minds with all of the television that I was watching and heartbroken that I never gave them a chance to be who they always wanted to by and WHY didn’t I let them go out and have fun once and a while and and and…

They wanted to know why I no longer got on stage with my hula hoop and performed on top of  a speaker.

They wanted to know what I was planning on doing about how resentful I felt towards myself for making myself believe I had to take care of every single thing for every single person that I know for the last twenty years.

They want me to have this tattooed on my wrist, so I’ll never forget it:

Just because you can, doesn’t mean that you should.

So, friends, here’s the deal: I’m ready to let a couple of those feelings out of their cages and see what happens. Yes, there have been temper tantrums. Yes, I have cried – yelled – demanded – begged – pleaded to distract me from how I feel inside.

Without food to stuff it all down – I need to be very, very kind to myself – because without food my coping mechanisms are stiff and stunted. They are difficult to access in a moment of crisis.

Without food, I get it wrong, a lot.

I apologize, a lot, for my brattiness,  but I don’t feel sorry for living authentically.

The bar has been raised, and I am oh so grateful.

 

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