Depression Never Tasted So Good
A little bit of this, a little bit of that
Listen to this week’s article with some drums for effect!
Real quick. Thanks for the people that send me messages and comment. I don’t always respond to them, but know (like deep down in your belly) that I see you. I. See. You.
‘Just one more chip,’ I say as I slide the salty corn chip past my lips.
I’ve had three pieces of sour candy from Trader Joe’s, a massive white bowl of air-popped popcorn, a small glass bowl with three huge scoops of dairy-free chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream (topped with a gluten-free cone and oat chocolate (also from Trader Joe’s–they should sponsor me–)), and now I’m on my second glass bowl of corn chips from Any Store Anywhere.
‘Should I stop eating?’ I think.
My stomach feels like it’s going to expand into the white, blue, and yellow light of my laptop. My pants don’t feel like my pants, but I can’t stop crunching on the corn chip that enters my mouth. Did I put the chip there? Or was it someone else?
I’m watching murder on my computer. It's not real murder, but fictional characters dressed up in red tights slicing and dicing unnamed bad guys with samurai swords and semi-automatics. Somehow, watching this much blood and hearing this much cursing doesn’t make me feel better. It feels like a separate punishment I’m doling out for myself.
But why?
I can blame it on depression, on feeling down, on feeling like I’m not good enough, on stress, on money, on lack of money, on having a family (and being grateful to have a family), on moving, on getting fat, on uncertainty, on filling my head with superheroes who murder people…
The list can go on and on…
Why do I want to feel like I’m exploding out of my stomach, like the alien missed its exit and is going to burst at any moment through my belly button? Like a mix between the end of Spaceballs and The Matrix had a baby, and it’s a mix of Trader Joe’s olive oil (dammit TJ’s give me a sponsorship!) drizzled on top of it, and its eyes dripping with oat chocolate, waiting to eat anything that moves.
Another chip bites the dust. And another one. And another one. Another chip bites the dust.
I hear a voice whisper past my ear as Ryan Reynolds does a Ryan Reynolds thing.
I wish I were Ryan Reynolds.
Wait, that wasn’t the voice in my ear. It was what this guy from the local coffee shop I’ve been hanging out at said. This guy is a little bit older than me but way cooler. He has good hair, a skinny body, a supermodel girlfriend, and three other businesses. I can’t keep up with his blue blockers.
He says, ‘You’re not going to make it here. Philly is a blue-collar city. You won’t hit your finance goals.’
I’m standing outside of a local grocery store. The words of encouragement from my coffee shop friend slide right out in the open and hang in the air like secondhand smoke. I see a colleague or someone who used to be a colleague, and I tell him we are here for the cinnamon buns. We love them, and we’re looking forward to them.
‘Philly’s not the place for food. I don’t know why you came here,’ he says.
I can’t stomach the negative vibes. Thankfully, the moist (oh yeah, that’s for all you moist lovers out there) cinnamon bun keeps me content for a minute. The thing about sugar-covered flour mixed with sugar is that you have to keep eating it for its effects to keep working.
It’s like heroin but better.
So, is it about the sugar and the mini high I get from stuffing my face late at night? Or is it because there is an emotional mountain weighing on my shoulders?
Remember to roll your neck, I think. My neck feels like a bodybuilder beat it to a bloody pulp. But I just can’t relax.
Maybe it’s something in the water, or perhaps it’s that time of year. These things come in waves, in seasons, in the breeze, and out with a long exhale, but these things are part of life. Part of life is feeling like I can’t get out from under whatever is on top of me. Part of life, it seems to me in all my wisdom, is dealing with being alive in a healthy, non-destructive way.
What are some healthy ways to deal with, idk, being a human?
I could…
Go for a run
Write my thoughts in a notebook
??
Anyone got anything else?
Should I start binge eating again?
Wait, what was I listing?
Did this become a listicle?
Hmm, popsicle? Nah…
So, as you see, the options are never quite as enticing as making myself feel like a million pounds at the end of the night.
That sweet sound of CRUNCH-CRUNCH-CRUNCH in my ears is like coming home. The only thing I have to really worry about when sneaking midnight snacks (or 1 a.m. or 2 a.m. snacks) is if my 5-year-old will ask me where I’m hiding the chocolate bars.
Other than that, I got nothing.
Cover Photo by Henley Design Studio on Unsplash
Dude Philly has amazing food! Not sure you should be listening to this guy...:)