My name is Annie and I am compulsive overeater.
And apparently I am depressed. I don’t mean I am hovering on the edge of a depressed episode. No, I mean I am deep down, over my head in a bout of depression. How can I tell? Well, lots of ways. The way that I want to eat everything I see. The way I am so doggoned tired all the time. The way that all four of the males living in my house are getting on my nerves lately. The tears that feel like they will fall for no apparent reason. And most of all, I know I am deep in depression because I haven’t been writing.
It’s not uncommon for me to write something and think, “Gosh, that is crap.” But I still write. Not the last couple of weeks though. Normally, even if the fiction isn’t flowing, I am blogging or journaling. SOMETHING that keeps my creative juices flowing. But no. Not now. For the month of February I’ve looked for any excuse I can to not write anything. I’ve even used the excuse that my Facebook games will wither away and I’ll lose all the progress I’ve made to not write.
It makes no sense that I would be like this. I was forced to go six weeks without much writing because of a dead computer. Now that I have one and I have time to write, I am not doing it.
Well, actually I know what. It happens in February. And it will likely happen again in October. February marks the anniversary of my miscarriage and October marks the anniversary of a birthday never meant to be. Even when I think I am doing well, it just slams me down. Thoughts of my little girl (or boy, but I prefer to think of her as a girl) and what might have been hit me like a sucker punch. This year, I swore that I would get through without food. Hasn’t happened.
And that makes me MAD. I KNOW this will be a tough time for me. I KNOW that I am an emotional eater and that I tend to force down “negative” feelings with food. I have phone numbers for gals in my OA group. I have a way to contact those gals on Facebook and email. Yet, I choose to go through this alone. How dumb am I?