Stress Eating?

I've been eating a lot because I've been cooking a lot.

Cooking gives me a sense of purpose. It keeps my hands busy. It gives me a creative outlet. It shows me to show my love to my husband by making these incredible meals.

Cooking is something I'm pretty good at.

So is eating.

I went from daily nausea (likely due to Covid) and eating very little, to eating almost non-stop.

I'm eating too much.

Maybe, if I weren't such a good cook, I wouldn't eat so much. I doubt that's true, though. I would just eat even more unhealthy foods.

I was doing so well with my nutrition and diet. Until I got sick. Then I just didn't want to eat at all.

The treatment included about 4 weeks of antibiotics to treat some secondary infections. The antibiotics added to the nausea. Even though I was supposed to take them with food, sometimes I just couldn't. The headaches added to the nausea. Everything added to the nausea!

And then I got better.

I mean, I'm so happy I don't feel so miserable. Please don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled to be avoiding the headaches and the chest pain and the coughing and the nausea. I'm thrilled the brain fog is lessening every day.

Apparently, Covid creates a huge metabolic demand. So much so that the healthcare providers say to eat every 3 hours.

I got in the habit of eating every three hours. At first just very tiny amounts. But as I got better, the portion sizes got bigger. And bigger. And more frequent.

And then I decided to quit smoking without any nicotine replacement. I started craving food. Unhealthy foods. Candy and carbs. Bacon. Salty, fatty foods.

And then Christmas happened and my husband asked for a Christmas dinner.

So, I had all of these leftovers. Even after I took a big plate of food to my little old lady friend.

And I had a lot of bread.

I made homemade biscuits.

I made homemade rolls.

I made homemade bread.

I LOVE bread. Really love. I would marry bread if I could. Really.

And I ate and I ate and I ate.

When I wanted a cigarette, I ate.

When I walked through the kitchen, I ate.

When I finished the dishes, I ate.

When I woke up, I ate

When I went to bed, I ate. (Well, right before bed)

I was like The Very Hungry Caterpillar. One of my favorite books by Eric Carle. Only, I haven't turned into a butterfly, yet.

I already know that I use food for comfort. When I'm in physical or emotional pain my first reaction is to turn to food. Chocolate and bread make everything better, right?

I love to sit and read and snack. It's become like a ritual for me. Open a book (or my Kindle) and a snack and read and eat.

I know I'm going through some pretty stressful things lately. From illness to withdrawal to looking for property to moving.

The thought of moving is particularly stressful. I would like to be moved. Without the actual moving part. Just wake up in our new house with all of our things unpacked and arranged. With my 2 little goats waiting close by, ready to be petted and milked.

Instead, the entire process is incredibly stressful. Finding a realtor. Finding a house. Finding a buyer's attorney. Figuring out what to take what to leave. Figuring out how to get my goats across the country.

And then there's the withdrawal.

Withdrawal is something I've been through many times. Withdrawing from nicotine is by far the hardest withdrawal. If they had a rehab for cigarettes and bread I'd be there in a heartbeat!

But, they don't. So, I'm toughing it out.

Today, I'm going to try to not only smoke less (only 6 cigarettes yesterday) but also eat less. The rolls are gone. The bread is gone. There's a bit of green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and gravy left over.

I'll fast until noon and break my fast with the leftovers.

Oh! I forgot to mention. Due to the nausea for the 2 months, I stopped drinking coffee. Caffeine is an appetite suppressant, but it is also very acidic. It made my nausea a million times worse.

I'm drinking green tea in the mornings which is healthier, but doesn't do much to make me feel less hungry.

I'm still drinking SO MUCH water! I swear I can taste my kidneys!

I was wandering through the house just now, opening the fridge, and then thinking of going outside to smoke. I determined, stubbornly, that neither eating nor smoking was called for.

I decided to write this instead.

Fortunately, writing helps a lot as a distraction and a release.

Unfortunately, you'll probably see many, many, MANY more stories like this one.

I still want to do the prompts. I still want to do the photos. I still want to write the pig story.

For now, this is it. This is what I'm able to think about. To write about.

Sorry. Not sorry.

Wish me luck!

Post Script:

Writing this just made me hungry.

Lead image: street fajitas photo by author