I’ve never been one to “eat my feelings.”
There’s a simple explanation for that. I’m a type 1 diabetic (no, not the type of diabetes your grandma has…though if she has type 1, go her! she’s survived through a lot of life with a very difficult disease) and everything I ingest has to be accounted for. I have to meticulously measure, weigh, assess, consider and watch what I eat. I am intensely intimate with every morsel that passes my lips. When I don’t take care, my health and my sanity suffer. On the other side, I am dependent on food. If my blood sugar goes low and I have nothing with me…well I could end up comatose or worse. So the idea of eating lots and lots of food not only disgusts me, it just sounds like a lot of work.
But the other day I happened to give it a try. This roller coaster of living in limbo has been weighing on me. Particularly when it comes to my diabetes. I rely on medicine to stay alive, and what the doctors here don’t seem to understand is that I use that medicine daily. They haggle with me to provide enough prescriptions. Then when I do finally have the prescription, the pharmacist informs me that I’m too late, the prescription was only good for a month. Though I’m only three days beyond that, I still can’t have the medicine that I require to continue standing upright.
While making a fool of myself on the walk home (tears littering the sidewalk and sobs hidden behind cursory coughs), I didn’t even consider eating something to make myself feel better. I just kept walking and waited to really begin bawling once I’d closed my door. Then I played sudoku to calm myself.
I started to feel shaky. In typical fashion, I refused to believe that my blood sugar was low, so I ignored it for a few minutes. But it just got worse. So I jumped up to test my blood sugar. Lo and behold, the stress had dropped me so I was yet again required to eat something. Even as I was stuffing my face, I was measuring and weighing and calculating. I even downed a bottle of water in the midst of the junk food. Even when I want to let go and eat my feelings, I can’t.
Honestly though, I’m ok with that. I like that I eat like a bird. I do wish I had a healthier relationship with food, but I think I’m ok with it as it is.