I eat my feelings

I’m sitting here in a hospital cafeteria, eating a BLT on wheat bread (‘cause that has more fiber than white, don’t ya know) waiting for my Mom to be finished with her cataract surgery. But that’s not what’s stressing me out.

My sister-in-law just died last week and I attended her funeral a couple of days ago. But that’s not what’s stressing me out.

My Dad died just three months ago after being ill at home for years. But that’s not stressing me out either.

Nope. It’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about food.

All day. Every day.

Did I mention that I’ve just consumed a BLT on whole wheat? And I’m still thinking about what else I can buy from the cafeteria. I’m not hungry - but I am.

Why did I do this? I have a perfectly good sandwich waiting for me back at my Mom’s place. A turkey and pepper jack cheese on low carb bread (‘cause I’m diabetic and watching my carbs). I brought this sandwich with me because I was intermittent fasting for the morning and in solidarity with Mom’s fasting for her eye surgery. I had thought to get my sugars back down because I have been bad for the past few days, eating my complicated feelings over my sister-in-law’s death.

Haagen-Dazs, chips, egg rolls, chilli, chicken wings, chocolate; my numbers on my glucose meter just kept rising and rising until it started to scare me. So I made and brought a sandwich to get back on track.

And still ended up in the hospital cafeteria with a BLT on wheat (’cause it’s better than white, don’t ya know). Thinking about the sandwhich I had waiting for me back at my Mom’s the whole time, questioning myself why I was doing this over and over.

Like I was compelled. Like I was an addict.

I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t anxious. I wasn’t scared. I was in complete control of my support position for my Mom, not worried at all about the outcome.

So why was I eating?

I’ve been so out of control of my eating for years. Or more precisely, in control for a few days, then out of control. In control while picking a perfectly great low carb, low sugar lunch at a restaurant and then binging on ice cream at home afterwards. (And don’t talk to me about keeping the bad stuff out of the house- I’ll just hop in my car and go get it!) Trying desperately to believe that eating protein and fat first should help me not to spike my blood sugar so much if I eat the sugar afterwards. That’s what all the You Tube doctors were saying.

But no, not me! My body has been abused by sugar and carbs all its life it still spikes too high even on low carb bread. I can’t catch a break.

Fast forward two days later - because I got so busy I couldn’t write - Mom’s surgery went great, she‘d lost her wallet earlier that morning at Walmart‘s but a kind soul had turned it in and we’d gotten it back- cash and all! So check and check, things were back on track. But now I want to celebrate with food, of course. Now all I think about as I pass fast food place after fast food place on the road is what can I eat to keep my glucose numbers from spiking too high yet satisfying enough I don’t binge after putting healthier food in my mouth.

The constant battle back in forth in my head makes me so crazy. The noise in there drowning out everything else. Planning what I should put in my mouth against what I want to put in there (insert felatio joke here). What can I get away with now VS what kind of shape I want my liver and kidneys to be in in 10 years down the road. How well do I want to live later VS how happy that chocolate ice cream is gonna make me for the next five minutes.

Because those next five minutes are all I can think about most days. Because that first bite of ANYTHING I put into my mouth makes me the happiest, most satisfied, most high I’ve been. That first bite is my first hit of heroin, my first snort of coke, my first roll of the dice.

Hello, my name is Julia and I’m addicted to food.