The circumstances weren't really as dire they sound. I'd completed my rough outline and the beginning of the article on Saturday night; got up early on Sunday and got 2/3 of it done then; and just had to finish last night so I could get up early and edit this morning. But I had trouble focusing last night, particularly on writing smooth transitions between one idea and the next.
It wasn't made any easier by my being hungry. Now, I had eaten a full dinner just a couple of hours before then; there was no way my body could truly have needed more food. And I didn't really want just any food, as I learned when I pondered some raw carrots for a nanosecond. No, healthy veggies or fruits would not do; I needed zucchini bread.
I'm newly on the healthy living wagon once again. There are many reasons -- the numbers on the scale; the way the clothes (don't) fit; the cholesterol numbers, too high for my comfort; hitting the big 4-0. Another reason was a book my dear friend Elaine gave me, which explains in detail the difference between physical hunger and emotional hunger.
What, you may ask, is emotional hunger?
I can give you examples from my own life:
- Craving zucchini bread when clearly not physically hungry but feeling the pressure of a looming deadline
- Dipping into a stash of Hershey's Kisses (or chocolate chips, in a pinch) when what I'd really like to do is scream at my kids -- or sometimes after screaming at my kids
- Wandering to the fridge when bored, or lonely, or sad. This happens less frequently than it did a few years ago, but it still happens.
***
We went to Canada last week. We'd been there the previous week, too, when Elaine and her husband, Arnold, threw me a surprise birthday party. They really are wonderful friends to us, honorary grandparents to our children, and marvelous neighbors. Well, marvelous former neighbors, because their house has sold, and they moved out between our two visits, heading to Oregon to be with their own daughter and grandchildren.
Instead of welcoming lights, the red house next door stood empty when we arrived on Thursday. I sighed and swallowed hard, and headed into our petite maison to start unpacking for our short stay. I was seized by an urge for a snack -- again, not just any snack -- something sweet and full of carbs. I actually had my hand on the granola bar, having talked myself out of the cookies, before I realized that I wasn't hungry, and it was probably my sadness about Elaine and Arnold moving that was making me want to eat.
I left the granola bar in the cabinet and kept unpacking. Five minutes later I was sitting in the kids' bedroom, crying my eyes out.
I never cry.
Well, I guess I should say I rarely cry; I can't remember the last time I cried from sadness. This is a good thing, right? I'm generally happy and don't need to cry.
But after those feelings came out, first by myself, then on Earl's shoulder, I truly did feel better. I was still sad, and still am today, but there was an emotional release I hadn't felt in a long, long time. And no granola bars or cookies were harmed to achieve it.
***
As for my procrastination-induced emotional hunger on Sunday: I did have a small piece of zucchini bread, finished the shitty first draft, and went to bed with a clear conscience. I made the necessary edits this morning and submitted the article before the editor's office opened for the day. Success.
I'm feeling even more successful that I'm starting to recognize this emotional eating pattern in myself, and taking small steps to change it.