“Bitch, are we gonna eat or what?”


Oh man  this shit is crazy.  I’m never going to be able to do this.  So it’s now 10:55am and I am finally eating.  It’s not that I was intentionally not eating.. it’s just that I know I need to eat something healthy.. and well, that requires thought, and time, and planning,.. and I’m not used to that.  I’m used to going to the fridge.. or the pantry.. grabbing snack stuff to keep me going… ALL DAY LONG.. So here I am.. hungry.. like, “bitch are we gonna eat or what???” kinda hungry.  I probably need to go shopping.. I don’t have anything in the house.. Welllll… come to find out, I have a LOT in the house.  I have so many left over soups, that I have made.. had a bowl, and then opted to go and get fast food because I’ve “already eaten that soup twice.” I have two veggie drawers full of veggies, and some broccoli in the door.. because I LOVE BROCCOLI!!! .. so why doesn’t it register on my radar when I am hungry?  How do I forget that it’s in there.. disregard it like it doesn’t exist?  If it were a chocolate bar, I’d have been all over it.  It would’ve taunted me in my thoughts.. over and over and over until I just HAD to eat it!  THAT is addiction.  THAT is the disease of compulsive eating.

Ya know, it’s fucking hard changing that thinking.  Changing those autopilots.  When I got to the kitchen, there wasn’t a thing in there that I wanted.. even tho I was hungry.  As I went thru the containers of soups.. throwing them away.. my stomach growled.. so much so that it was a little painful.  My stomach was physically reacting and telling my brain that I was hungry.  Now, technically.. I don’t know if I was really hungry.  I mean, I’d stopped at Waffle House at 3am with a friend, and had the ALL STAR, smothered and capped.  Seven hours without food isn’t exactly starving.  I often think back to the caveman times.. when our animal brains were being developed.  How often did they eat? How much did they eat?  I think about people in third world countries, and how little they eat and yet survive.. granted.. they aren’t healthy.. but they survive for quite some time on very little.  So why is it that my brain tells me that if I don’t eat.. ASAP.. I’m going to die!

My stomach got louder and louder until I had to eat something.  The last bowl of soup was the recent one.. black bean and sweet potato with carrots, celery, onions, green peppers, jalapenos, tomatoes.. I had been eating it for 3 days, and really didn’t want it again.. but it was that or break down and have something I wasn’t supposed to have.  I heated a bowl, and then looked at the veggies drawer.  “Well.. These are going to go bad soon.. The long lost veggies of best intentions that never get eaten.” I recalled the time that I had tried juicing.. it was pretty successful, but not something I could do continuously, forever.. I did like the carrot juice tho… with the beets, and kale.. and.. I started playing the memories of the times that I actually ate vegetables, or drank them, and how much I really actually liked them!  That little fucker of a disease had completely blocked those memories.  My automatic tape recording had kicked back in. “I don’t like vegetables.  They’re yuck! I only like sugary foods.. greasy foods.. yummy foods” I can’t tell y’all how much that shows up in my life.  Those automatic programming tapes of self talk that are completely unsupportive of my goals in life.. but they do.  All the time!  That’s why I blog so much.  Don’t get me wrong.. I love that you guys care to read, and hopefully take something away with you.. but I blog for me.  So, I can see that bullshit that goes on in my head.. challenge it, and replace it with factual, healthy, self talk.  For example.. “if I am fat, no one would want to attack me.. rape me.. fat and ugly.. that will keep me safe” – writing that, I still believe it.  The picture that comes to mind is fat and ugly me sitting at the bar, and a slim long blonde haired girl standing next to me. We are both looking at the door.. and in walks the predator. Now he isn’t gonna wanna mess with me.. he’s gonna go for her.. therefore, I am safe.  It’s algebra.  The truth is, I was fat and ugly in 2011 when I was raped.  He didn’t give two shits about my appearance.  He had a vendetta against lesbians, profiled my partner and I thru an underground sperm donation network, met me at the hotel room, raped me, got me pregnant and left… He is a sick man.  People that do that are sick and need help.  I say that sincerely.  I’ve sat in group therapy with predators.  I’ve heard them open up about their illness.. their thinking patterns.. and I thank God that my behavioral glitches are with food and drugs.  I couldn’t imagine fighting those kinda demons.

So.. safe.. my goal is safe.  Well.. the best way that I can keep myself safe is to be in shape.  Be in a condition where I can defend myself.  Where I can run.  My truth is, I am the one that is harming myself, more than anyone else can.. because right now, in this moment.. that’s what matters.. how am I being treated in this very moment?  Well.. right now, I am trying to hurry up and write everything I thought about while making the soup, and juicing the carrots.. about how much noise goes thru my brain about having to leave the kitchen clean before I eat… the noise about the grains of sugar on the counter from the airbnb guest.. barely any, but they were there.. the noise about how untidy their food is, stacked in the fridge.. the noise about the spoon they didn’t put away.  It’s SOOOO hard being home with guests, sometimes.  It depends on where I am with myself.  I could block my rooms when I am home, so that I can be home alone.. and sometimes I do, if that is what I really need.. but most of the time I challenge myself to deal with it.  It is in doing the things that I don’t really wanna do that I grow.  Ok so basically .. my soup is now cold, and my juice is warm.. sooo.. if you got anything out of this one.. great!!

My name is Storme, and I am a compulsive eater…