You know that feeling when you lay down in bed and it feels like your body is spreading out in all directions?

You feel your stomach rising up towards the ceiling and your sides expand to cover the width of the bed. It’s a terrible feeling and for me is shameful.

I am an emotional eater and have been for my entire life. Food is my go to, not alcohol, drugs, gambling or shopping. Nope, ice cream and pretzels work just as well. It took me decades to become aware of what I was doing when in the moment. Sometimes I would make the decision to not eat the tasty treat and other times I would enjoy it.

Over the past decade, I have learned to turn to other outlets when I’m stressed.

I take a walk, call a friend or go upstairs away from the kitchen. I thought I might have actually kicked the habit once and for all, until my stress kicked up several notches to a level I had never experienced before.

At first, when my husband was diagnosed with a terminal illness, I held it together because that’s always been my job. I need to be strong and take care of everyone else. I was home for months taking care of him and had my moments of unconsciously grabbing a snack trying to shove down the pain I was feeling, but it wasn’t the norm. I was able to somehow stay fairly controlled.

However, in the last 3 months since he passed away, it seems the control is gone. The emotions I’ve been feeling are intense. Loneliness, sadness and fear are always lurking beneath the surface. The tears start flowing unexpectedly and the pain rocks me to the core. Those old eating habits that I thought were gone are slowly emerging. 

I’m not eating chips, cookies or ice cream, instead I keep grabbing different “diet” snacks trying to make the hurt go away. I’m becoming unraveled inside but outwardly you would never know how much I am suffering. I guess that’s where addictions come in. We are trying to mask and forget those negative emotions because they hurt too much.

Each night as I lay in bed and feel my body expanding, I vow that I will stop. As I open my eyes, I hope this is the day the ache in my heart will be gone, but it’s not. It’s only a matter of hours until I’m tearing open a bag of a 70 calorie snack. Unfortunately, one bag seems to lead to a second and then an hour later when I reach for something else. It turns into a daylong food obsession with my mouth hardly having time to rest.

I’m aware of what I'm doing but I’m doing it anyway. Consciously I know it won’t help, but it doesn’t matter. I’m searching for something to take this agony away. After I eat, the negative self-talk begins. I berate myself which only makes everything worse. Would I talk to a friend the way I’m talking to myself? Absolutely not! I would remind her of just how difficult a season of life she is in and she needs to be kind to herself. I would then brainstorm with her to come up with a solution.

I need to be my own best friend.

In actuality, we should alway be our own best friend. Who knows us better than ourselves? I’m a problem solver so I’ll search for a solution and won’t give up if at first I don’t succeed. I’m going to hang a sign in my pantry and refrigerator that says: “food is not the answer”. I’ve never done this before but this is what is calling to me.

Food won’t bring Gary back. It’s a crutch which will only add a new problem to my life. When life feels so out of control, gaining control over my eating will actually make me feel better. It’s funny how we believe we've overcome a habit, yet it remains hidden, always ready to reappear. 

Awareness is the first step. To be continued….

Until next time,

Debbie