Sometimes, the most difficult thing to write about is the most important. To dive deep into my own inner feelings and fears is never easy. In fact, I normally choose to avoid it, but right now I don’t think I have a choice any longer.
My health has been declining for almost two years, at least in ways that are painfully obvious to me. The side effects of this are almost as bad. I know that there are aspects that I’ve refused to deal with until now.
I’ve been a Type II diabetic for 16 years. As a result of my other health problems like COPD and kidney disease, I cannot seem to lose weight. That is nothing out of the ordinary, and just scratches the surface about why I’m writing.
I’m admitting that I have a real problem with food. I use food as a crutch to try and feel better when other things in my life aren’t going well. When Hal and I aren’t communicating because he’s on his VR headset for hours at a time, I eat, even when I’m not hungry.
Eating gives me something to do. It’s really that simple. Without anything else to pass the time, I sit here and eat. As a result, I gain weight and feel even less like being active. It’s like I’m committing suicide in slow motion. I don’t know how to stop.
Hunger is unreliable because my hunger doesn’t stem from an actual physical need to eat. Instead, my hunger is emotionally driven by feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.
Something has to change, or I will put myself in an early grave without directly intending to. I need help to refocus my life and priorities. I need to get out of this bad place I’m trapped in. I need to open up about how I’m feeling with Hal. I need to start walking each and every day instead of just eating and sitting around.
I need to know that all of this is really worthwhile.