June 2013
I was thinking last night about my relationship with food, particularly
at night. I have been known to binge on Medifast food since that is all
I had available. I have eaten 8 bars at one "sitting" followed by
pretzels, bites and cereal. Last night, at the end of 3 OP days, the
binge buttons were glowing. I think because my routine was altered a
little - Dad went to bed early. Only by 15 minutes, but still it was a
change. My knee-jerk reaction to being "blessedly alone" is to eat. A
lot. Plus, I had ordered food. I don't know why, but that makes me
want to eat. A lot.
But last night, I was thinking about what
freedom from emotional eating felt like. I looked at the food on my
shelves and thought "I don't want to have my actions dictated by food".
So I acknowledged that it was there. I looked at it and realized
(again) that I don't really especially even like food. I just really
like the act of eating. A lot. I mean, after the first 2 bites, I am
not tasting it anyway. I am just eating. Shoving my face in an attempt
to fill whatever empty space is aching at that moment. And it never
does.
But something my daughter said after having to put her
beloved dog down really resonated with me. She said that she had pretty
much eaten nothing but tortilla chips for days. She wasn't trying to
comfort herself - she was trying to make her body feel as bad as her
heart. And I think that this may be what I am doing. Because I eat
until I hurt.
So, last night, I had my cat-approved bedtime
snack (Medibites), read my book and went to sleep, comfortable with the
knowledge that I have food for tomorrow. And I did not wake up this
morning wishing that I had binged last night.
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