Binge-Eating My Way Through Grief

Confession:  I just caught myself comfort eating healthy crackers.  Not that it's bad that I'm eating them.  Just that it's a lifelong battle of mine to drown my stress, sorrow, anxiety, grief, confusion, and disappointments in something yummy.  Not that anyone would consider gluten-free whole grain crackers with flax seed all that yummy.  But it doesn't have to be M&Ms, or Oreos to feed my food addiction.

I am a comfort eater.  But, rather than attack the food I'm eating, I've learned to attack whatever it is going on in the inside of me that seems to draw me to food just like Jerry floating through the air toward cheese in the old Tom and Jerry cartoons.

When I woke up this morning, I felt off.  The sun in the eastern sky was nice yesterday morning.  This morning, we were back to the thick marine layer.  Plus, I had a headache.  And an upset stomach.  And I was listless, unmotivated, pessimistic, weepy, frustrated, anxious, and hungry.  I ate a healthy breakfast before exercising so that I could take some ibuprofen, I took Lee to school, paid a bill, took Danielle to an appointment and then to school, wrote, and then blew off exercising altogether.  I didn't even shower until I absolutely had to before picking Lee back up from school.  This afternoon.

Since I've been home, I've been very snacky.  I'd practically kill for some chocolate chip cookies.   Even the bag of chocolate chips would do.

Yes, I came to the computer with a healthy alternative to the sugar, but as my lips began to puff up from the salt in these crackers, I realized that an addictive habit is an addictive habit, no matter the "drug," and the crispiness of these crackers, no matter how comforting they may be, is no way to self-medicate.

So I do what I do when I need to get it out?  I write.  And I imagine you reading what I write, with a stronger-than-ever urge to pray for me.

I need it.  I'm really anxious about the memorial service Sunday, and the graveside service Monday.

The kids will be spending the weekend with their dad, and for him, I am happy.  This is good for him to have his kids around him, and to have them accompany him to his mother's funeral.  I can't imagine what he's going through.

Death is tough.  There's no easy path here, but I don't suppose there ought to be.  Mary is worth every tear, and every bit of grief.

I feel sick over my cracker binge.  Physically.  Maybe a walk around the block will do.  A couple of times.

Thank you for listening.  I mean, thank you for reading.