comfort eating

Food saved from spoiling

Its been a bad week all round with depression, mixed episodes, a fall in my kitchen and sciatica pain ruling the day for more than 2 months now. I had fruit in the fridge about to go off. I’m too poor (poor me) to let it go to waste so I made the monumental effort of chopping it up and adding cream. It was worth the effort. Then I had eggs also about to go off – apparently this happens when depressed people don’t cook the food they have in their fridge. I mustered all my efforts into chopping an onion, grating some cheese, mixing it all up with about 8 eggs, threw in some gluten-free flour and baked. Lo and behold, I did not burn this attempt at dinner. I ate off each of these meals for the entire week. Hopefully this upcoming week will be a bit kinder on my destabilised mind and body, but judging by the way I feel right now, I highly doubt it. I’m holding out hope for my doc’s appointment at the end of November to chemically put an end this year long battle against bipolar *sigh*

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Toast!

I am bipolar and a recovering anorexic made fat by both side effects of bipolar medication, and a damaged thyroid caused by Lithium. Living single and alone, its not only a challenge to cook for one, but it’s a daily battle to eat a nutritious, balanced diet. Or even just to eat at all. I transition between starvation, comfort and binge eating. Everything to extreme, and nothing balanced. This is my weekly journal documenting my eating patterns, moods and thoughts. An attempt to keep account of my successes and failures with food.

This journal is ‘ An attempt to keep account of my successes and failures with food, so I’ll be honest, since days before I moved, end of August 2016, I have not actually cooked a hot meal for myself. Everything has gotten on top of me and my eating disorder has surfaced in an internal attempt to cope with the external chaos.

So what have I actually been eating? For the first two weeks I gave myself permission to comfort eat. Let it be said, when I commit myself to comfort eating, I do it properly! Then I had to substitute a stove for a toaster when the kitchen was gutted. So I am currently compulsively fixated on toast, in much the same way as I used to be on yoghurt, then on peanuts. There’s a shop nearby that bakes gluten-free bread to order and I’ve been dining on cheese and toast for the past few weeks.

But all things considered, despite no real cooking, I’m going to chalk this up to a grand success, because at least, despite everything, I’m still eating – be it comfort, compulsive, fixated – I am eating. So while I may not have won the war, this battle has been a small victory of sorts.

toast

Food, glorious food

I am bipolar and a recovering anorexic made fat by both side effects of bipolar medication, and a damaged thyroid caused by Lithium. Living single and alone, its not only a challenge to cook for one, but it’s a daily battle to eat a nutritious, balanced diet. Or even just to eat at all. I transition between starvation, comfort and binge eating. Everything to extreme, and nothing balanced. This is my weekly journal documenting my eating patterns, moods and thoughts. An attempt to keep account of my successes and failures with food.

 

I have a gluten intolerance. Not the 'fashionable' kind. The kind that makes me really ill. I haven't eaten gluten since about 2003. I managed to get my grubby little hands on a loaf of gluten free bread. Oh what heaven! Egg on toast with a burger pattie on the side

I have a gluten intolerance. Not the ‘fashionable’ kind. The kind that makes me really ill. I haven’t eaten gluten since about 2003. I managed to get my grubby little hands on a loaf of gluten free bread. Oh what heaven! Egg on toast with a burger pattie on the side

 

Another slice of heaven

Another slice of heaven

 

I didn't feel like cooking. What else is new! So I opted to chop 'n mix instead. Salad to the rescue

I didn’t feel like cooking. What else is new! So I opted to chop ‘n mix instead. Salad to the rescue

 

The height of laziness. Open a can, Stan. And since I'm poor and these were on special, baked beans it shall be for the next few days

The height of laziness. Open a can, Stan. And since I’m poor and these were on special, baked beans it shall be for the next few days

 

 

What anorexic worth her salt doesn't exist on a mixture of 'free' foods tossed into a salad. In the name of keeping the tradition going – another salad

What anorexic worth her salt doesn’t exist on a mixture of ‘free’ foods tossed into a salad. In the name of keeping the tradition going – another salad

 

I love leftovers. There're so easy. No cooking, chopping or mixing. Just a scrape onto a new plate. Life couldn't get more simple.

I love leftovers. There’re so easy. No cooking, chopping or mixing. Just a scrape onto a new plate. Life couldn’t get more simple.

Love, meatloaf and chocolate

I’ve had such a horrible day. Everything’s gone wrong, as if conspiring against me. At work, computers were down, connections were lost, people were absent and work continued to perplex my confused memory. I plodded along with my mind focused on 4:30pm, like a carrot swaying on a stick.

Traffic was jammed because electricity was out and traffic lights were winking red, red, red, red, red. I sat, car idling, in the middle of the traffic war, listening to Meatloaf’s “I Would Do Anything For Love” and started to cry. I cried all the way home. And I continued crying long after I was home. And to bloody compound the situation, I was making meatloaf for dinner. No lie. So I cried some more.

I am enveloped by sorrow. I feel alone, unloved, unloveable. I have no direction in my life, no achievement. I’m wafting along, alone, living one day at a time. I know in bipolar terms, I’m doing well. Hey, I’m not dead yet! That’s what I mean by ‘doing well’.

But I want more. I want love, companionship, success in the workplace. I want FUN! I want to laugh, not cry. And I don’t even have any chocolate left in the house. Trying to curb comfort eating means I only buy chocolate (double the amount – shhhh don’t tell) on weekends. So in all my glorious moodiness I plopped down on the sofa to watch TV, shifted the blanket to cover my feet aaaaaaand…. uncovered half a bar of chocolate. I LOVE IT WHEN I’M FORGETFUL.