For years and years... as long as I can remember really, if I was having an awful day, I would simply 'go shopping'. Even if I had little (or no) money, I would find solace in the making of a purchase. Inevitably, I would regret the purchase, feel guilty because I didn't need it or find that I already had something like it. Little by little my 'stuff' added up - interestingly at a similar pace to the kilos.
On a parallel front, I have taken no care or interest in the food I eat. I have always claimed not to like cooking or be interested in the food I eat. I suppose the fact that I 'eat' is clear - at over 40kgs overweight, I am clearly 'eating'. I am just not enjoying or being interested in food.
It seems to me that I have shopped and eaten to cover up / hide from / avoid great pain. By dulling the pain, I've managed to avoid grief and fear. So, now that I am (a) watching what I am eating (and cooking, strangely enough) and (b) not shopping, I have nothing to dull the pain with. I found myself in tears, this afternoon, reading a book by Malcolm Turnbull about the Spycatcher Case. Needless to say, the books is fascinating and well written, but nothing that would bring someone to tears. I think that things are finding their way to the surface...
Meanwhile, tonight I cooked a curry chicken soup. Not being a talented cook, I asked The Bear if I should repeat that recipe as I wasn't sure whether he liked it. His answer - 'hell, yes' - allayed my concerns. Tomorrow I'm off to the Farmer's Markets - to connect further with the idea of healing my (our) bodies and avoiding supermarkets.
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