Emotional eating is not good for us all but eating something good can surely do lots for your emotional sensibilities. I’m a bit down this weekend. Classes are ending for the semester and I already feel the contours of that void I’m going to have to live without these wonderful people I’ve met. Seasoned teachers have warned me about getting too attached but, no matter how good the intentions are, they’re really no match for the reality that closeness comes with the job. I find that I can’t help it too…there’s so much in everyone to appreciate and miss…So don’t mind me and just let me have my pint of ice cream and cry okay?
This weekend’s also rougher than most because my surrogate mother (who parents my best friend) opened a can of feelings that I was already trying to avoid. C, my friend, and I had a conversation about these kinds of canned emotions last Friday. We were at a coffee shop next to a supermarket and in retrospect, that can only be read as foreshadowing of events.
What were these feelings and why was my weekend so full of them? Well, let’s see. Apparently, and it’s true:
- I’m not hungry enough. This is really the problematic one. It’s the one that makes all other problems feel petty.
- I don’t really know what I’m doing with everything in my life at present. Why this MA? How am I gonna finish 3 papers by Friday? What the hell is this going to do for me?
- I don’t know where I want to go.
- I really want to move out…of the country…
- I’ve a terrible sense that I’ve lost myself completely. As in: I don’t know who I am anymore.
Ahem…so, with that plus the constant amount of work that needs to be done, I must conclude that I am in over my head. Tired, beat up and severely in need of a pint of ice cream, plus cake, chocolates and coffee + + lotsa Kleenex, alone time and the courage to face the music already.
In the meantime (a) because it’s a Sunday (b) we’re creatures of habit and, (c) I have to eat something that makes me feel good: behold! A step-by-step guide to making your own butter-tomato sardine sandwich! *kapow*
SO, it took me a good three hours to get this down pat. Whatever happiness I had derived from eating two of these for dinner has been reduced to a burp. Spent the last three hours panicking over lost letters and bits and pieces of childhood. Ended the weekend and started the week arguing with my mother. This seems to have been the story of my entire weekend. She’s now hurting over my having said that I can’t work at home. She has also been telling me that she never gets anything out of my salary. She’s worried I don’t earn enough. She hates me for not wanting to talk about my salary. She doesn’t want me to travel. She wants me to buy a computer, she’ll pay for part of it but wait, she needs one too and why can’t i just pay for it since I have money anyway? She wants me to fulfill my dreams…just not if they involve travel and all the other things i really want. //deadend
She is turning 59 on the first week of November. She has never been so disappointed in me and she doesn’t even have to say it.