Life's unreasonably tough right now. This is okay; I'm not complaining. It's just hard. I'm really just here to opine on how stress affects my eating. Because it does. Insofar as I don't do much of it. Eating, that is.

I actually feel nauseous a lot. This could have something to do with my basic health; my immune system is not what it should be, as usual. But when you're nauseous you don't much want to eat a bowl of fruit, or anything for that matter. I guess I could stomach some rice but I don't feel motivated or well enough to make it.

Although I don't careen about the world all stressed out, I do think it gets to me in other ways, and this is one way. Food becomes secondary, I don't want to watch shows with beautiful people, I don't want to talk to anyone about anything. I just want to stay in bed and watch Oprah. (This implies Oprah is not beautiful, which is in fact not the case.) Which I obviously cannot do. I have to force myself out of these sweats and go out and buy some food, get a prescription, get something to eat. Just being outside should help.

My friend is coming next week. There will be much culinary debauchery -- I am looking forward to this. I know at the very least she'll make me eat, and I'll be happy to, largely because I'll be happy.

I don't think I'm depressed. I'm just inundated. I want to focus on all the sunshiney aspects of the food I ought to be eating, but it's hard to even acknowledge the sunshine. Last night I had to set boundaries with two people and ended up in tears, bereft, poured out. It's all too much is how it seems. But I'll be all right. I honestly just need a plan. Baby steps to the elevator.

First order of business in reference to this plan: eat better.

Labels: eating disorder, health, nutrition, raw