When Comfort Eating Causes Discomfort…

My whole life I have been an emotional eater – when life’s stressy-stuff shit hits the fan, I melt my misery in a mouthful of chocolate, caress my cares with creamy crumbs of cake (er… and the rest), then soothe my scars with silky ice cream. I do know it’s not good for me, and have tried over the years to fix it – oh, how I have tried – but to no avail. After all, it must work after a fashion because here I am, still here on this crazy planet, still alive and kicking (not to mention screaming silently inside).

But here’s my current problem (well, one of my current problems) I’m seriously struggling with. I have a doctor’s diagnosis of multiple digestive issues that are partially caused by all the crap I eat to try to help myself feel better about having so many stupid stressy-stuff problems to deal with in life in the first place… Aaarrrggghhh…!. Basically, my comfort eating is causing me a lot of discomfort, and right now I just don’t know what to do with myself to easy my pain.

I do understand the absolute logic behind the necessity to knock this comfort eating on the head once and for all, but unfortunately for me my resistance is not coming from a neat and tidy place of common-sense reason but from a deep cavernous well of a lifetime of unresolved feelings churning and roiling in agony. Food – especially sweet, fatty, salty food – seems to placate them, or at least shuts them up for a while when they’re giving me most grief.

What I’m having to learn just now, what I’m trying to teach myself, is to eat to comfort my physical self rather than eat to comfort my emotional self… and I’m really finding it difficult to do. I don’t think I realised just how intrusive and how invasive my comfort eating is – was – because actively NOT comfort eating seems to have left me rootless, anchorless, lost and scared. Perhaps you can teach an old dog new tricks after all, given time, but it’s turning out to be an absolute bitch of a process to go through…

I am, however, persevering nonetheless, and although no doubt I’ll fall off the wagon at some point I’ll simply remind myself it’s not going to be a quick all-or-nothing sprint but (for me especially) is likely to turn into a marathon of epic proportions – I need to keep myself looking forward to my healthy new future on the horizon, keeping my eyes keenly on the prize ahead instead of being distracted by an old distorted demon lagging behind me, dragging me down… Watch this space… 🙂

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Wagon

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Share Your World: 29 April 2019

If you could interview anyone from your life, living or dead, who would it be and why?

My paternal great-grandmother, who I never met – she lived in Canada, and died before I was born. In fact, I didn’t even know she WAS my great grandmother until I was grown up – I thought she was actually my great aunt, my grandmother’s older sister, but it turns out she had my grandmother out of wedlock at a young age, and then emigrated to Canada leaving my grandmother to be brought up by her biological grandparents, who never really lived down the shame of it all and treated my grandmother atrociously (as if it was her fault for being born illegitimate). Old sins may have long shadows, but they make for the most intriguing characters… 🙂

As a child, did you have a nickname? Did you carry that with you throughout life or was it only in childhood that you used it?

My parents decided to call me Ruth as it was a nice short name and no-one would be able to shorten it. So of course I went through childhood being called Ruthie. My father-in-law, mother-in-law and brother-in-law still call me Ruthie, as does my mum and sometimes my husband every now and again, but most people know me as Ruth. Funnily enough some times I get called Ruthie informally at work, and as I answer to it as readily as Ruth, it gets used interchangably, and to be honest I really don’t mind either…

Give us three words that describe you?

Mother, grandmother, introvert. I’ve been a mum since I was 18, a grandmother since I was 38, and an introvert my whole life. Although those three words have popped up first in my head, I can immediately think of a whole lot more I could add to that rather perfunctory description. I suppose I’m an accumulation of lots of descriptive words, not really one thing more than anything else, but am an oddly eclectic mix of everything I’ve ever been and ever will be, a kind of Frankenstein’s monster of hopes and dreams and hurts and healings and mass confusion… I keep thinking it will get easier when I grow up, but here I am at 55, still waiting for clarity…

Sneaking into a second movie at the theatre (if you go to a movie house) – is that wrong or just harmless fun?

When I was a kid, there was one movie screen with a huge red curtain and red velvet seats and fancy gilded decor all around and you paid once for entry and watched whatever series of stuff was on, until you got fed up and left. Now there are many-screened multiplexes showing only one movie on each screen and the cost is so extortionate I never bother to go any more. I’d rather watch stuff on TV in the comfort of my own home…

If you had a time machine, would you go back to the past of forward into the future? Why?

Well, apart from going back in time to interview my long departed great grandmother (see Q1), I firmly believe time travel should remain in the world of fiction. I mean, I remember watching HG Wells ‘The Time Machine’ as a kid (on TV, not at the movies – see Q4) and freaking out at the idea of the Eloi and the Morlocks being all we had to look forward to in the future. OK, so maybe Michael J Fox as Marty McFly had a better time in the ‘Back to the Future’ trilogy but still… I learned that messing with the past is still playing with fire. And having read (and thoroughly enjoyed) ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’ where the poor guy time-hops back and fore with no warning I’m just glad that time for me moves one way only and at one steady pace, thank you very much…

Share Your World

Abstract Bluebells

Some abstract bluebells for today’s Flower of the Day – I just felt like doing something a bit different… These particular bluebells were nestled under the shade of a tree, and it was dull rather than sunny when I took the original pic so the resulting image looked a bit dull and the colours faded – but a digital art filter helped give my boring old bluebells a new, far more interesting lease of life 🙂

Z is for Zen

Z is for Zen

Colouring in certainly helps me feel zen, I focus mindfully and creatively on what I’m doing and just let the rhythmic swish swish swish sound of the coloured pencil on the smooth page soothe my soul. I truly enjoy the peace and quiet it brings me, allowing me to slow down my heart rate and just breathe… ❤

Well here we are at the end of this year’s April Blogging from A-Z Challenge! I’ve really enjoyed my daily posts, colouring in through the alphabet. And thank you all for joining in with your many likes and comments – hopefully it might inspire one or two of you to pick up a few pencils (or pens) and a colouring book and get started again yourself! 🙂

Y is for Yacht

Y is for Yacht

I loved the square design of this little boat in a sea of wavy shapes – I’m not in any way a water-borne person so I do appreciate it is probably not actually a yacht at all, but it fits in so well with my penultimate post for this year’s April A-Z Challenge of colouring my way through the alphabet that I just had to include it anyway! 🙂

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Orient Express

I used to have this particular poster up on my wall – oh, it all seemed so glamourous to me, the luxury of travelling across Europe on the Orient Express. How I loved the whole idea, dressing up for a posh dinner and eating in the extravagantly decorated restaurant car and sleeping soundly in a traditional wagon-lit cabin on the train and silently crossing borders in the night – going to sleep in one country and waking up comfortably in another, how romantic it all seemed!

I understand some of the original Orient Express carriages have now been renovated to give modern-day passengers a real taste of luxury 1920s travel, although without the romance of a steam engine – but at a shuddering £3500 for a single ticket from Venice to London I don’t see me booking a trip for myself anytime soon. Especially with still only one toilet to share with everyone else in the carriage, a small private sink to wash in and no showers available at all – it may well have been the height of luxury in the 1920s but doesn’t necessarily translate too well to our daily hygiene needs in the 21st Century.

Instead I make do with regular trips up and down the country on the Caledonian Sleeper, travelling between London and Inverness – I do the eating (courtesy of the buffet car) and sleeping (in a tiny bunk-bed cabin) on the train, crossing the border between England and Scotland silently in the night. Nothing romantic or extravagant about the purely functional 1970s rolling stock here – similarities to the Orient Express include one toilet shared with everyone else in the carriage, practical hand sinks in each room and no showers. However the Caledonian Sleeper service is due for a long-awaited upgrade this summer, but for now the old trains remain in use.

I’m not complaining about travelling on the Caledonian Sleeper though – it really is quite fun sleeping on the train, it reminds me a bit of camping, or caravaning, or youth hostelling. And anyway who needs a fancy posh restaurant and fancy formal clothes on a train – to be honest eating a tasty sandwich in my comfortable jeans and sweatshirt then snuggling down for the night under a warm duvet on my narrow bunk bed does me just fine 🙂

My cosy little bunk bed in my tiny little cabin on the Caledonian Sleeper

Stream of Consciousness Saturday