Dill seedlings

Dill is up. I stood there staring down at the dirt that doesn’t seem to change quickly. So cold, so slow. Record moisture – even some of the seedlings are too wet and yellowing around the edges.

This is tax weekend, in Canada, for those of us who don’t always plan ahead. Got mine done in 3 hours or so. Maybe next year I’ll file electronically, and it’ll be even faster. I keep my biz records all year, so by tax time they are all ready to go and just need to be exported to a document to print out.

Yeah, so not eating or overindulging tonight. Considered it. But my go-to talisman is my own body. Tuning into it does not make me want to eat. I feel bulky and shapeless, despite having a strong core, despite dancing well for an hour, despite riding my bike and all. Looks like flab-reduction surgery is in my future. But first… stay away from the emotional eating and create even more loose flab. Yech. It’s enough to drive you to drink, but that’s not gonna help. Guess it’s time for a movie, some more dancing, or some creative project after a nice hot bath.

My habits of calmness, happiness, and lightness are relatively new. Small, pale green, and weak, just like those dill seedlings.

Triumph in the night

Triumph in the night

So, of course nighttime is when the desperate emotional eating happens. After I’ve waded and pushed through the day, often without much self-awareness, sometimes with emotional walls so I can focus on what needs doing, and often with a growing sense of dissatisfaction. And at the end of the day, when there’s no more energy of motion, I collapse in a needy lump. Can’t get what I need, but sometimes food can take the edge off. Habitually, it has. Alcohol could do the same thing. But whatever thing it is, it’s not the thing I need. I need peace, joy, and connection.

I’ve been cultivating those, and wanna talk about the connection – the self-connection, now. Because I don’t expect to have a partner again. I don’t expect any friend to be there for me. Rarely they are. Would be nice, but I clearly can’t count on anyone. Not like in the movies. I watched a movie like that tonight, “Friends with Kids.” A nice fantasy, love with a twist or two. But another thing I did tonight was my triumph, my new idea.

A project the last couple weeks has been doing a time study, just tracking my major activities on a spreadsheet. They’re also colour coded into four categories – pink for emotional crap, yellow for maintenance, blue for fun times, and green for go-go stuff related to my needed career change. So I’ve increased the amount of green time. Four hours today. And still working on decreasing the nasty pink emotional time.

Having noticed how the nighttimes lead to eating and movies, just as for probably a lot of people in this world, I felt dissatisfied. Then today I got the brill idea of a potential new habit: working into the night. See, when I’m absorbed in work, I’m fairly content. I forget to eat. And then there’s the payoff of figuring out some puzzle, as I did yesterday, or learning something new. And I can see myself doing this as a habit, crazy as it sounds. Counter-intuitive, I mean, this kind of self-connection. But that’s what it is, self-connection.

With sharpening my skills, I should be able to get a job in this field. Hit the ground running. Keep a fast pace on deliverables with knowledgeable and optimized approaches, just as I do in my current dead-end gig that I only do for money. Tonight after the movie, I sat and did a GIS tutorial for an hour. I can see this working for me. Because I’m doing something both constructive and gratifying, instead of late-night eating, this is triumph.

Healing emotional eating

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.