One of my biggest trigger moments for emotional eating is right when I come home.
It doesn’t matter where I was before or what time it is—sometimes upon entering my place, I instantly want to eat.
Yesterday I got home from a really uncomfortable train ride, and all I wanted to do was eat. Before I even walked in the door, I started to imagine heating up some lasagna, maybe throwing some yogurt and granola in a bowl, maybe grabbing a bottle of wine real quick, too. Was I hungry? Hell no. Thirsty, tired, ungrounded, anxious? Absolutely.
When I walked in my door, I immediately picked up the bag of granola. I looked at it in my hand, and realized it wasn’t going to taste that good. It wasn’t going to be as delicious and satisfying as it would be if I waited until I was hungry. So I put it down. I filled a glass with ice water and went to sit down on the couch to take a few breaths so I could decide where to go from there.
The next thing I know, I’m journaling. I’m letting it all out. It’s through writing that I often discover what I need. It’s through getting some water and taking a seat to ground my energy that I land at home safely, healthfully, and with self-kindness. It’s through opening up my journal and expressing myself that I can release the urge to eat when I know it’s not going to help… When I know it will only make things worse.
The truth is—I never used to accept how sensitive I am. I never accepted that I require spiritual and energetic nourishment, the kind of which aren’t easily available or acceptable in our culture. The truth is I’ve had to overcome lots of judgmental stigmas around being “hippy dippy” and “woo-woo,” and for requiring an invisible type of nourishment that food can never provide.
Like self-expression, grounding, deep breaths, cleansing rituals, moon circles, communion with nature, connection with Source, sacred sisterhood, and energetic protection.
I’m giving it to myself now. This is my new nourishment. I require grounding, deep breaths, and feeling Mother Earth. I require silence. I require space. And I require writing, expressing myself, sharing my story to others on this path of healing, of reclaiming our sensitivities, and of standing confidently in the truth of who we are.
My biggest trigger moment is right when I come home. What are some of your trigger moments? If you allowed yourself to be sensitive, if you really indulge yourself, what else might be more satisfying than food?