Mental Health

Sometimes I Cry Over Dinner

Sometimes I cry over dinner.

Sometimes I walk into the kitchen with the full intent to cook for myself, to enjoy what I’m cooking, to have a great meal, and sometimes I just cry instead.

Sometimes I cry because it hits me. It being this overwhelming feeling of utter sickness. It being a compulsion to check the number on the back of the packet or tin. It being a total complete and utter wave of anxiety and nausea about food.

And, for some reason, it’s always at dinner. It rarely hits me at breakfast or lunch, but dinner is the time that I am the tiredest and it’s the time that it knows I’m the weakest. It’s like it waits to attack.

And I try my absolute hardest to fight back. I try to make what I was going to make anyway, I try my hardest not to skip a meal.

But sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes it leaves me hungry, sometimes it leaves me only able to foods that I deem safe, sometimes it leaves me in tears.

It leaves me feeling weak. It leaves me feeling hurt. It leaves me feeling like I have not progressed at all. And it knocks my confidence.

Sometimes I cry over public lunch. Private lunch I am 100% okay with but public lunch? That one is not my friend. So sometimes I have to remove myself from the situation. Sometimes I have to go somewhere private to eat alone.

Sometimes I feel like a burden. I get angry and I resent myself and I can’t understand how everyone else seems to do this one normal human thing yet I just cannot manage to. It’s only sometimes that I can’t manage it, but those sometimes make me feel incredibly guilty.

These sometimes don’t, realistically, happen very often. They happen more when I am stressed and tired and exhausted, that’s true, but they are not very frequent occurrences.

Most of the time I manage to eat. Most of the time I manage to cook. Most of the time I enjoy food and eating and cooking and socialising.

Most of the time, I do a good job. For at least 2/3 meals every day, I am successful. For at least 6/7 days every week, I am successful. I manage to calm the nausea and panic. I manage to not even think about it all. Most of the time, I completely forget that I am even fighting anything.

And it’s taken me a really really long time for this to become my most of the time, so why am I punishing myself over what happens sometimes?

Sometimes I cry over dinner.

And that is okay.

In fact, that is amazing.

And the reason that it is amazing is because that is my sometimes. Those feelings that I used to get every single time have become my sometimes.

I am better than I used to be. I am proud of how far I have come. And instead of feeling ashamed about my sometimes, I think it’s time to be proud of my most of the time.

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