There are things I automatically do when I feel bad. It used to be -for years--that I would do things (like overeat) and not know why in the world I was doing them. I know I've written about this before, but there was a time when I would go to the store, buy a ton of candy, sit in the parking lot and eat it all. That sounds so pathetic. Well, it was.

There was also a time when I had a Costco size bottle of vodka hidden under a bunch of sweaters in my closet. That sounds even MORE pathetic. It was.

I didn't even know why I felt like I needed these things. All I knew was that the pain inside was too overwhelming. I was desperate for this one feeling. It's the moment somewhere between having the taste and texture of chocolate in my mouth and swallowing it...when it gets into the bloodstream and hits the brain. You take a deep breath and exhale, and....a big sigh. Everything in me relaxes, everything is ok. For three seconds.

Or it's the moment when you swallow your liquor and it burns all the way down, and you know everything is going to be ok in just five, four, three, two, one...a few more gulps and (sigh) the world is not as terrifying as it was just a minute before.

Do you know the feeling I'm talking about? I found these momentary and fleeting alleviations, but I couldn't find real comfort anywhere at all. I should make an important clarification and say that I couldn't receive the comfort that was available to me. So I tried to shut up the screaming and crying inside with food ......and with Costco liquor. I wasn't far enough along on my journey to know what exactly all the crying and screaming inside was about-- and that was part of the problem--I just knew it was there.

Having pain and not knowing where it is coming from is maybe the hardest place to be (for me.) I can't work through it, so I try to silence it, and it comes out sideways... overeating, overdrinking, anything I do in excess to quiet the pain. It's much easier when I know what the pain is about. If I can identify it, I have learned that it's much better to embrace it, feel it, grieve it, and then it is released. Even if that process takes a long time.

Right now, I know that my pain is coming from feeling grief and loss. My grandfather, whom I loved very dearly, died in early October. I will never again in my lifetime hear his familiar deep voice burst into an old song when an overheard phrase reminds him of a song he loves. Or hear his laugh, or see his kind face that always reminds me of happy times from my childhood.

Also, my parents were visiting and they just left this morning. It made me really sad to say goodbye to them, to live so far away from them. I know I am supposed to be all grown up, but I want my Mom and Dad. So, like a moth to a flame, I eat and eat and eat and eat until I feel sick. (Fortunately, I don't want to drink like that anymore, and I"m really thankful for that.)

Over the past five years I have been working on learning how to cope with the deep pain inside by doing other things that are good for me. Things that aren't self-destructive. I can tell I am getting better because some of the more harmful things I used to do don't even sound like a good idea to me. They seem more and more foreign, like something I wouldn't do, something that would cause more stress than comfort.

I have wished and hoped for a long time to desire what is good for me, and not what is harmful. It's been a long struggle, and I'm still in it somewhat. So I am sitting here all alone, but I am not drinking away my sorrow, and I am not (at the moment) eating it away either. And while yes, I can think about how comforting a large order of sweet potato fries may be, and although I can hear the severely reduced Halloween candy calling to me from the store around the corner, I have chosen to write. And I will keep trying to embrace the difficult feelings that come my way and face them, and not try to silence them with apple fritters when I'm already full or smother them with sickening amounts of frosting.

So wish me luck.