I’m on the struggle bus right now.
Not physically hungry. I just want to eat. It’s that old impulse — the itch in the back of my brain, the urge to grab something and shove it down. I can feel the old muscle flexing. Like it’s wired into me. Like I’ve done it so many times, my body’s just waiting for me to cave.
This is when it gets tricky. Not because I don’t know better — but because I do. I know exactly what this is. And part of me still wants to say, “Screw it.”
But I’m not gonna do that. Not right now.
I don’t need food. I need relief. And food isn’t going to give it to me. Not real relief. Not the kind that lasts. Just more guilt, more shame, more wreckage to clean up.
So I’m calling it out. I’m writing it down. I’m staying honest. That’s all I can do right now.
I’ll pray. I’ll breathe. I’ll text someone if I have to. I’ll let this wave pass.
Because I don’t want to lose these fifteen days.
I Wanna Eat
I wanna eat.
Not ’cause I’m hungry — but because the old muscle’s flexing.
The one that used to run my life.
The one that still whispers when things get tight.
It’s not about food.
It’s about relief.
Quick escape. Fast numb.
I know it. I feel it. I still want it.
But I’ve got fifteen days behind me.
And the taste of freedom is starting to stick.
So I sit still.
Let the wave come.
Let it pass.
And I don’t pick up.
Not today.