The Truth About Emotional Eating
If anybody has been reading this blog as late then you know that I’ve been struggling in the weight category. You know that the extremely high-stress situation I find myself in has had me turning to food – mainly sugar- for support. The thing is though that most of the eating has to do with boredom. Currently I’m caregiver to my mother, occasionally my two young sisters and of course, my 4-year-old daughter. No one else. Just me. Day and day out.
Without going into too much detail my mother is a difficult woman, one who I have been trying to please all of my life to no avail. If I was to be completely honest I am incredibly resentful of the current situation because I wasn’t supposed to be back in my hometown. Some promises were made that didn’t pan out and at the last minute I ended up living with my mother instead of having my own house. Now I realize, regardless of what I was doing or where I would have been living, all roads led home because of my mom’s heart surgery.
Now I find myself stuck in the house, with no outlet, responsible for a house full of people and a rather large house without a whole lot of help as far as taking care of my mom goes. Each day I wake up and there is nothing, absolutely nothing to look forward to. Each day I just pray for the day to end, in hopes that each day I wake up and go to bed brings me closer to the day I can have my life back. I’m bored. I’m defeated and I feel like at 29 my life as I know it is over.
Now there’s a lot I”m not saying, a lot of history and a lot of anger…but the 20lbs I’ve put on in the last couple of months is because food is the only thing interesting in my life right now. It’s the only thing I have some control over. I don’t go out. I don’t do anything, but take care of a house full of people and work…when I can. It’s frustrating and there’s no sign that it is coming to an end anytime soon. I’m holding on by a thread.
There’s no joy in this house. So I use Oreos to find some peace that I’m not getting anywhere else. And part of me doesn’t care, because what does it matter? No one is going to see me anyway. I don’t leave the house except to go to the grocery store or take my daughter to the park. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so defeated in my life and the only bit of joy I have is in the food I eat.
I recognize that this has to give at some point. 170lbs is horrible. I can’t imagine 200lbs. But right now it is what it is. But that’s why eat. There just ain’t shit else to do.