This blog is an attempt to self-heal through storytelling, memoir, recording self-care, and connect with others who are facing the darkest times because of anxiety and depression. the more we share our stories, the more connected we are. this is my attempt at radical vulnerability.

The Noisy Eater.

So, like most of you, the people who are living, breathing organisms on the planet, I am an emotional eater. My weight, since age 17, has fluctuated from a size 0 to a size 16. Sometimes bigger, sometimes smaller. In trying to deal with what I'm now realizing, (in the last few months) has been a life-long battle with depression, I'm trying to re-channel my coping and depressive wave mechanism from food to literally anything else. But I'm here to tell you that sometimes, I'm going to have the piece of fucking cake. Even though now it's likely to be shitty paleo (grain-free gluten-free [kill me] cake) cake, there's no satisfaction like that first fresh bite into the beautifully frosted piece of heaven that awaits me in Susie's Cakes up the street. Some days all I think about is how nice it would be to not wake up every day, and worry about "what kind of choices am I going to make today food-wise." "What's going to be best for my body and spirit." "What's going to not give me bloating and GI problems." "What's going to not make the person selling me my food question my health, body, choices, etc.?"

I guess the thing I'm trying to do however, is like my therapist said, is to make the healthy choice, to eliminate a choice that would cause me stress, either physically or emotionally. So when I sit and really think about where my pain or anxiety is coming from, most times, it's more than just wanting cake, it's from stress at work, from stress with school, from stress from living at home with my family, from pretty much anything else not involving food. So why do I turn to cake? Because when you're poor and growing up as a latch key kid from age 7, maybe one of the only things you have to turn to is a package of Hostess cupcakes from 7-11. So now my anxiety is quelled in other ways -- taking a bath, drinking a glass of wine very slowly, taking my dog for a walk, or some serious solo-sex time. But sometimes, albeit less these days, I still walk up to Susie's and get one of their Celebration Cupcakes. And although the anxiety doesn't go away completely, it's really fucking wonderful to have that first bite.

My work isn't in denying myself the cupcake on a regular basis. My work is in eliminating the guilty feeling I have for indulging in the cupcake in the first place.

 

Dumb Disco Ideas.

Let It Breathe.