Shit 'bout to get real: The Insides of Stress Eating
So the past 24 hours have been torture.
It's not what you think. I am not having stupid cravings fueled by psychotic dreams of Cheese recently. I have eaten really well, even gone to the gym and worked out. I didn't gain too much weight after this week of "I get to eat more loosely since the challenge is over and I should reward myself."...honestly though most of the cheating came from the fact that I was STELLAR with food last week, not giving into any cravings or allowing myself an inch.That kind of behavior usually results in my going crazy not long after, eating all the chocolate in sight (see Cadbury Mini Eggs of Shame below...)
Anyways...
The torturous aspect comes from the fact that my anxiety has reared its ugly head, despite taking my meds on the regular. Last night was a lot of tossing and turning, laying in bed obsessing over work, the stresses that come with it, and other life junk. I haven't obsessed like this on regular meds in...well...ever.
My usual self medication is either drinking (which I don't want to do right now, nor is it the healthy choice) or eating an ENTIRE pizza from Papa Johns-garlic sauce and all (also not healthy....or productive.)
I have not been allowing myself to stress eat not only for the obvious reason of being unhealthy, but also the fact that the self loathing after the last bite of pizza is swallowed will make the anxiety ten times worse. It spirals down into a drain of anger, self pity, and disgust.
But without the eating...I feel like...I am going to implode while simultaneously exploding.
I try to ignore that feeling by desperately trying to come up with a plan in which I can run away from everything stressing me out, everything that is consuming me, to just get away from it and have some other problem that I could inevitably run away from as well.
This plan usually consists of be getting on a plane to Australia, running a pizza joint, and eating pizza for every meal, all day, every day, while simultaneously becoming too fat to walk and owning a guinea pig farm.
Yea. Guinea pig farm. They can run in little herds and do agility courses.
Yea. Think about it.
Then I think about getting bit by a paralysis tick while living in Australia (yea, totally a real thing), and I have to change everything. I know way too much about Australia. Thanks Lauren. At least I would be close to her...paralysis ticks might be worth it....
All the while, a giant pizza sits in my living room in Australia laughing at me, like Pizza The Hut from Space Balls.
The last part of my planning is the fact that if I ran away, I would have to leave everyone I love behind...which hurts even worse...and then I feel trapped.
So after I sit and plan my escape rather than stress eating, I start to think that maybe the self loathing that would come with the pizza would be easier to feel than the stress from life, because at least I could feel like I have some kind of control over that loathing.
And I think that is the root of my stress eating: I am desperately trying to grasp some kind of control in my life. When I get this way, I am out of control almost entirely. I have luckily been to therapy. I know the signs and symptoms of an anxiety attack. I have healthy tools to use when this happens. I have amazing family and friends, and a man that takes incredible care of me when I need it the most.
These tools just aren't as easy (or as tasty) as a whole pizza from Papa Johns-garlic sauce and all.
In the morning all this is all usually gone...so tonight, rather than making a grand plan of escape and bolting into the night, and instead of eating that pizza, I will tell my self to snap out of it, stop obsessing, and that tomorrow will be a brighter day damn it.
And if I am lucky, I will have dreams of Cheese.
Like I said...shit bout to get real.
It's not what you think. I am not having stupid cravings fueled by psychotic dreams of Cheese recently. I have eaten really well, even gone to the gym and worked out. I didn't gain too much weight after this week of "I get to eat more loosely since the challenge is over and I should reward myself."...honestly though most of the cheating came from the fact that I was STELLAR with food last week, not giving into any cravings or allowing myself an inch.That kind of behavior usually results in my going crazy not long after, eating all the chocolate in sight (see Cadbury Mini Eggs of Shame below...)
Anyways...
The torturous aspect comes from the fact that my anxiety has reared its ugly head, despite taking my meds on the regular. Last night was a lot of tossing and turning, laying in bed obsessing over work, the stresses that come with it, and other life junk. I haven't obsessed like this on regular meds in...well...ever.
My usual self medication is either drinking (which I don't want to do right now, nor is it the healthy choice) or eating an ENTIRE pizza from Papa Johns-garlic sauce and all (also not healthy....or productive.)
I have not been allowing myself to stress eat not only for the obvious reason of being unhealthy, but also the fact that the self loathing after the last bite of pizza is swallowed will make the anxiety ten times worse. It spirals down into a drain of anger, self pity, and disgust.
But without the eating...I feel like...I am going to implode while simultaneously exploding.
I try to ignore that feeling by desperately trying to come up with a plan in which I can run away from everything stressing me out, everything that is consuming me, to just get away from it and have some other problem that I could inevitably run away from as well.
This plan usually consists of be getting on a plane to Australia, running a pizza joint, and eating pizza for every meal, all day, every day, while simultaneously becoming too fat to walk and owning a guinea pig farm.
Yea. Guinea pig farm. They can run in little herds and do agility courses.
Yea. Think about it.
Then I think about getting bit by a paralysis tick while living in Australia (yea, totally a real thing), and I have to change everything. I know way too much about Australia. Thanks Lauren. At least I would be close to her...paralysis ticks might be worth it....
All the while, a giant pizza sits in my living room in Australia laughing at me, like Pizza The Hut from Space Balls.
The last part of my planning is the fact that if I ran away, I would have to leave everyone I love behind...which hurts even worse...and then I feel trapped.
So after I sit and plan my escape rather than stress eating, I start to think that maybe the self loathing that would come with the pizza would be easier to feel than the stress from life, because at least I could feel like I have some kind of control over that loathing.
And I think that is the root of my stress eating: I am desperately trying to grasp some kind of control in my life. When I get this way, I am out of control almost entirely. I have luckily been to therapy. I know the signs and symptoms of an anxiety attack. I have healthy tools to use when this happens. I have amazing family and friends, and a man that takes incredible care of me when I need it the most.
These tools just aren't as easy (or as tasty) as a whole pizza from Papa Johns-garlic sauce and all.
In the morning all this is all usually gone...so tonight, rather than making a grand plan of escape and bolting into the night, and instead of eating that pizza, I will tell my self to snap out of it, stop obsessing, and that tomorrow will be a brighter day damn it.
And if I am lucky, I will have dreams of Cheese.
Like I said...shit bout to get real.
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