Triggers and Reactions (Or how I almost wrecked my diet over a chicken sandwich.)

The last two days have been difficult for me. As my best friend said, "It's not easy being as passionate about certain issues as you." He's not kidding. I was raised by a firecracker of a mother who never tried to tamp down her response to social issues and I am her clone.


I just need to be careful. I can get in my own way - especially when I feel frustrated about an issue. I fixate, I perseverate, I stew, and I stress. I fight against my own feelings of helplessness by searching for comfort.

If I'm not careful, I'll look for that comfort in food. Why? It reminds me of family, of love, of happier times. The *old* me would take those comforting feelings and eat her way into a dull stupor. If my stomach was full (overfull), I calmed down and stopped fretting. It was my own way of controlling the uncontrollable. No, I couldn't fix a situation but I could withdraw from the pressure I was feeling from it. With food.

As the political season heats up, I'm trying to stay away from heated discussions as much as possible. No mind-changing can happen from an ugly argument: at least none that I'm aware. As I become more physically healthy, I'm more protective of my mental health and I am avoiding conflict when I can.

When I can.

That's the rub. I'm trying to balance being an active, informed member of society with not letting outside factors consume my life. Not an easy task.

Mindfulness of what sets me off, of what triggers my anxiety and my need to fix and control (situations and people) is what I'm banking on. I can't afford to let my emotions drive me to harmful behavior. My body can't take many more years of the abuse I've handed to it. Neither, though, can I ignore my inherent personality. If I attempt to bypass my convictions, I will abandon my very self.

So...I've made some promises to myself - again. Still.

I will be more attentive. I will notice the signals I'm sending to myself. I will give my emotional health it's due.

And thus ends the rant of a woman who spent the last two days on the edge. There. I feel better.



©Michelle Scofield, August 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved