I don’t do these things to upset anyone. I’m not upset either, just, pondering my own motivation.
I just wanted something and I got it coming and I realize that I attach way too much importance on whether or not my sister cares if I got pizza ordered. She didn’t want any and I don’t write about the petty things we deal with because we’re way too interconnected for either of us to get too het up over small things, but I realize, also, further, that it doesn’t matter a whit what she thinks because until I do what I’m supposed to do for my own reasons…it’s not going to happen.
January 1st or not.
It’s something I talked to my former therapist about…food as event, as comfort. Today was very stressful inside your author’s head. So let’s just set aside the moratorium on not talking about work and talk about it as it relates to food and as it relates to me. Today was rough because I did not understand what I knew I needed to understand and I felt like I’m already starting on a shaky foundation and to ask anyone would be to reveal that I don’t have baseline comprehension of what my job is all about. I don’t have the education, it felt like, to handle the issues that my job is supposed to handle and smooth over and in fact, I was causing issues I was asking my boss how to fix. She must have hired me assuming I’d know. Then, I’m being sent paperwork on insurance qualifications and things that impact people who look at me in my schlubby, unrinsed, hoodie, unprofessional persona and must wonder who I think I am. Amidst this, I’m sleep-deprived and I’m worried about whatever must be happening in my throat, my cousin is sending me seven documents to review so she can coach me for business which I think I agreed to after a couple glasses of wine, and I am completely disconnected from reality after four days of gaming.
I just skip any sort of rational thought and in my reptilian brain, I think, food. I think about how easily this is mentally mended if I just get something pleasurable down my ailing gullet, if I can be said to be thinking at all. And now I just press a few buttons and chase down the pizza guy and I have some kind of victory over my own inadequacies.
But…this is no worse than anyone else is dealing with. I know that my problems are ridiculous. I have such latitude to go where I want and do what I want and I torment myself for it for a while. And then feel nothing.
It’s like, oh yeah, all this shit I thought was tied around the old job and it is actually just tied around me. I have dragged it with me and it’s at the end of the bed like the clothing there. Waiting to be put where it goes.