In defense of my vice: Warmth and Safety
How to defend my vice. Well, which one? I have a few. Shall I just pick one? Let's see. I… tend to eat when I'm upset. Comfort eating. Food therapy, they call it.
I don't remember starting; perhaps I've been doing it since I was tall enough to reach the counters. I suppose it doesn't really matter how long I've been doing it. Trying to remember is just a way of postponing the defense of it. I don't know if it CAN be defended, except to say it makes me feel a little better when the day's stresses get to be too much.
I should quit. I know that. And I have several times. But sometimes the answer for me really is a bowl of garlic mashed potatoes, or hot mushroom soup, or last night's delicious leftovers. Sometimes the best thing for me in those particular moments is a nice stack of crunchy toast with butter. Sometimes it's a great roast beef dinner!
The funny thing about this topic is even though I comfort-eat, sometimes the best remedy for chasing the blues away, or calming down intense moments, is to simply breathe in the yummy scents of a bustling kitchen. I think THAT is what I really crave when I eat (or when I hang around sniffing the air and sighing in bliss). That sense of "childhood" and "home" that translates into warmth and safety.
Warmth and safety. Sometimes taken in food form, sometimes inhaled and exhaled like some strange meditative exercise. And that, I think, may be the best defense I can offer.
I can live with that!