Food has been the go-to. Fill the emptiness. Some desperately-needed pleasure. I need a better source of pleasure, one that goes somewhere other than to my thighs and internal organs. One that goes to success, happiness, and glory.
The eating-solace started when I was born and it’s gone on for five decades. There was no holding, soothing, affection, but, hey, Canada isn’t a third-world country. I got fed. So that’s the addiction I’ve been fighting. Not by dieting. Never done that. Never had the yo-yo-ing weight. Only recently I had the yo-yo thing for the first time. I knew it wasn’t about weight and food. I knew it was about tortured emotions, emotional eating.
Seeking emotional well-being has been ridiculously hard. Counsellors have been as useless as as my ex-husband as far as emotional growth. More like destructive. A band-aid shouldn’t be destructive, but somehow it was. So, I kicked butt to create some well-being on my own. All I have is book-learning. I’m a mess. You are welcome to come along for the ride out of here.