If I could live my life in a constant state of worry and peril, I would probably weigh roughly 42 pounds. I eat when I’m bored, I do not eat when I’m nervous or upset. When I’m bored I’ll sometimes come to out of what must be a black-out and realize that I’ve eaten almost an entire bag of Bakes Lay’s. I’ll leave the crumbs in the bottom, though, and put them back in the cabinet for the next person to enjoy. Because I am no pig.
But when I’m upset, I’m exactly the opposite. I swear, my throat closes and my stomach winces at the threat of even a dollop of calorie or flavor ridden morsels. Water and water alone sustains me when I’m upset.
How could I eat when I’m upset? I have no time to eat when I’m busy fixating on how horrible things are. I can’t eat a buffalo chicken wrap when I’m involved in preparing myself for the worst-case-scenario.
The weirdest thing is, I can be SO hungry – STARVING in fact – and ready to tear into a hunk of the Laughing Cow cheese I bought at the IGA…But if I get, say, a phone call in which I think I may be A) in trouble for something B) on the verge of getting dumped or C) getting results from my doctor, my mouth will instantly run dry, and my stomach will curl up into the fetal position and sort of tuck itself behind my intestines, crying, begging me not to eat. (Incidentally, my intestines are another story entirely. Being upset, for some reason, makes them just spring to life.)
I didn’t eat yesterday until dinner because I was upset over a fight I’d had with my boyfriend. And, even now, a day later, my stomach is still unfolding itself from its cramped position, begrudgingly allowing me to ingest nutrients.
Because, even though things are “back to normal” between my boyfriend and myself, my mind is still caught up in all of my worrying. Overreacting or not, I have a very visceral reaction to worry, to fear, to sadness.
I just need to relax, breathe, and wait for things to get back to normal. In my mind, and in my belly.