My stomach is FULL. Like, let-me-go-lay-my-ass-down full.
In November, I started seeing a dietitian. I am an emotional eater. I am a binge eater. I am a disordered eater. It finally felt like I needed to deal with that. And I knew I needed help, so I got help.
Things were going great until about two months ago. I think I had worried that COVID and lockdown would be the things to knock me “off track,” but they weren’t. I was actually doing my best during that time because I was cooking a bunch. And I was afraid the world would end, so I was also rationing. LOL.
For me, ordering out is the trigger for a lot of my food shit. So the less I do, the less I’m likely to slip into emotional eating habits (AKA overeating).
But when the uprising kicked off after George Floyd’s murder, I became so invested in attending protests and having conversations and donating to organizations that I would literally forget to eat. And then I started eating for comfort. And then I started a new job and needed to adjust to having a work schedule again.
And then it kind of spiraled from there.
I don’t have much more to say. Bodies and food and emotions are complicated. I’m still working through my shit. And that’s OK.