I want something from food that it’s not giving me.
It’s been two years since I was employed full-time and I’m fairly sure I’ve spent most of that eating. In fact, it increasingly feels as if I am constantly scouring my cupboard and fridge for fodder but it’s finally come to a head.
Because nothing is tasty enough. Fulfilling enough. Nothing lasts long enough.
I often feel uncomfortably full. Over-sated but unsatisfied.
I am either full or empty. Nothing in between. I thought I was past this.
I ask myself, what is it I’m actually wanting or needing.
What hole am I trying to plug or gap am I trying to fill? Nearly 40 years of disordered eating (and therapy off and on) means I know my behaviour around food is a symptom. Not (only) the problem. But as I look deep into the recesses of my
soul thoughts and feelings I don’t know what it is I want. What it is that I need.
Am I sad, lonely, unhappy, discontented, uneasy, angry, unfulfilled or bored?
I ask myself the question and wait for a response. But there’s nothing. And if I feel ‘nothing’ and don’t have the answers, how can I ever make it better.