I know that it’s not behind the jam or at the back of the top shelf icing up because it’s touching the back. I know this and still I seem to look for it in there. Cheese doesn’t make me happy nor ham or even the chocolate shoved in the back of the shelf in the door. Eat and eat and the hole isn’t filled it just seems to open a black hole where my happiness should sit.
Food will not pay the bills, stop the children from squabbling, calm my husband down, tidy the house, do my work or even make me happy and yet I turn to it again and again.
I wish I could go cold turkey but you can’t just stop eating. I have to eat for fuel but it’s the eating for other reasons that gets me into trouble.
I am trying. I am. It’s just sometimes I can’t do it and it’s how I cope with stress, boredom, anxiety, sadness. This is something I have done for years. I am scared. I don’t know how to stop and if I do stop what will be left? Just me and that scares me too.