It’s all beginning to make sense but even typing that sentence makes me feel nervous as I think it’s an indicator that things are going to go wrong. Like yesterday for example. I have been feeling pretty good about things, that I am getting things sorted mentally, that I am moving away from my obsession with all things to do with my body/weight/eating, I have been feeling better and I was looking forward to an evening at home alone.
Now having brought up a large family and now living with my husband who works part time I don’t get much time totally alone. There always seems to be somewhere to go, someone to see so the idea of a bit of isolation is always something I have cherished. I know I am lucky that I have people and that spending time on my own is a choice not where I ended up but it feels like something special.
And what have I done in the past with this glorious “me” time? Well, you won’t be surprised to know that it usually revolved around food. I would treat myself to my favourite dinner, buy myself a pudding and spend the evening eating whatever I liked. Now I don’t mean that I spent the whole evening simply eating but my idea of self care was food (and sometimes alcohol). That was how I treated myself, made myself feel special, showed myself value, made myself feel good. Except, of course, often it didn’t work like that. I would eat more than normal, feel uncomfortable, go to be feeling disappointed in myself and wake up feeling bloated and guilty. And, as you know, I don’t do those things any more.
So last night when the door closed and I was alone I started feeling really edgy. I had hyped up this time to myself but without the food ritual I felt a bit lost. What could I do? How could I fill my evening? I realised (once again) how big a part food has played in my life and how much space there is now. It was a hot evening so I didn’t want to do anything physical, I wanted to just sit and read, but food kept calling to me, no food in particular but just food in general, I suppose the idea I should be eating, but I resisted. I kept telling myself that this was simply mouth hunger, a habit, something that I could resist because I wasn’t actually hungry and it worked. I ate a salad and an orange, had a small glass of wine and then stopped. I didn’t need anything else and most of all I didn’t need to negative stuff that came with it. It feels like another step forward.