Stress eating is a real issue for me. I’m sad to even say that out loud. When I get stressed I start to eat. And when I start eating, I don’t stop.
Last night I ate an entire bag of fuzzy peach candies at 2 am. Why? I can’t tell you why as I don’t even know myself.
After I was unceremoniously fired on New Year’s Eve, I remember going home and eating an entire pie. The feeling of stress that I felt that day hasn’t really gone away, or even lessened for that matter. I would say that, if anything, it’s increased.
On paper I have an extremely strong resume. In person I am an even stronger candidate. Somehow, though, I can’t seem to figure this job market out. And I’m noticing that I really like to stress eat. Most times not even realizing that I am doing so.
My mom, bless her heart is going through chemotherapy treatments right now, has been continually trying to pump up my mood, every day. Every day. I do have some incredibly loving and wonderful people in my life. I do. And when I am around them, it’s a welcome distraction and what I need to keep myself moving forward.
Those moments when I am alone, though… those are the moments I don’t trust myself. Those are the moments when the stress eating happens.
I wish that I could retrain my psyche to tell me I need to spend 5 hours in the gym every time I get stressed. I wish I could retrain my mind to stop reaching for food. Oh, we’re all a little flawed somehow. Me, I have no will power. When things go wrong, I reach for food.
It’s not good. I know. I’ve been lectured on it enough in my life. But hey, at least it’s not cocaine or something stupid like that. That’s all I’m telling myself for now. At least until life calms down a little…. until my mom’s cancer is in remission, until I’m a member of the working class once again… until I can wake up in the morning and be excited for the day ahead.
For now, in the words of Dory, I ‘just keep swimming’.