When I started this blog, I started it with the goal of running a “talk-shop” blog. I was going to talk about books, writing, writers, and publishing, all as I pursued my dreams of becoming an author. I wanted to meet other writers, make connections, make life-long friends that I could Skype with over hot coffee and talk about our craft. I just wanted to write about writing.
The longer I write and post, the more I realize that I really needed this to write about myself. I have been suffering with something I’m finally ready to admit is a problem: binge-eating. I binge. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to end. Other days, I feel like I can stop. Food is my enemy, at least that is how I used to think. I am my enemy. Part of it is from stress, part of it is from loneliness… and for some reason, the only way I know how to cope is to eat.
I don’t want pity. Believe me, I’m going to be okay.
Sugar and fast food seem to be my favorite drug. Occasionally, I will go and get something from McDonald’s. “The dollar menu is so enabling,” I tell myself. It’s another excuse. I stop at the dollar store and pick up a bunch of candy bars and snack cakes. “This is too good of a deal,” I tell myself. Excuse, after excuse… When I get home, I look at my hoard, and I start by making a deal with myself. I will have just one cake and one burger. That will be my dinner and dessert. That’s how it starts, but the moment I take that first bite, it’s over. One box of snack cakes, one bag of $1 hamburgers down, my stomach hurts, my wallet hurts, and despite everything, my heart still hurts.
It feels so good when it’s happening, though.
Once again, I don’t want pity. Think of this as a journal entry you happened upon. One entry in an old, tattered journal you found abandoned on a park bench one day. Out of curiosity, you peek, and here you are. I’m tired of suffering in silence. I want to be better, and I’m going to get better. I promise.