Unreal.
If you're just stopping by, hopping about, or popping in, you can check out me bebopping my way through the Shtopping (Stopping Shopping) experiment here, here, here and here.
Okay, sorry. I'm not a poet. Geesh.
I know the Shtopping thing has been sort of uninteresting so far. But I think I did have kind of a mini-breakthrough last night, so bear with me and my roundabout way of explaining this.
This summer, I took this "Psychology of Eating" group class over the phone with a couple of fitness life-coachy types. Some of their suggested changes took, and some didn't, but let me say the one thing that has most stuck with me is the suggestion that we--meaning those of us who use food as a primary self-soother in ways that bum us out--could, potentially, find other ways of soothing or comforting ourselves.
Hmmm.
Part of me is all, nah. Food is such a good self-soother. It's such a part of our social lives, and it tastes good, and it feels good, and I don't want to give up a majorly awesome part of being a human American with enough money to purchase food.
BUT. Bear with me. I think what those coaches were saying is that we can really savor food, and enjoy the crap out of it, without stuffing ourselves with it when we feel sad or lonely. I'm thinking right now about a meal I enjoyed in Chicago with my friends and co-authors where we waited an hour and a half to get in the restaurant, and split many small plates of food, and I could not sit still in my chair because it was all so amazing and delicious and I was with some of my favorite people in the world in an exciting city in a special restaurant eating quality food carefully prepared with love. I didn't feel grossly full afterward. I felt awesome.
Bottom line: for some of us, stuffing ourselves over-full when we fill sad or lonely makes us feel even worse after a while. Plus, not every meal can be at the Purple Pig in Chicago. Still, the idea is that maybe if we're feeling sad or lonely, there are other things we can try to feel better besides eating a whole pizza (which I have done).
For me, the other thing I tried was shopping. Ta da! I so smart.
Except not. Sorry, bank account.
The coaches actually suggested other forms of self-soothing, like having a nice glass of wine with a friend (instead of, say three bottles, which is my MO), or taking a hot bath, or going on a hike.
All of those things are great. I love all of those things, and do them on a regular basis. I also throw heavy, heavy weights around my Crossfit gym, do yoga, eat pretty healthy overall (minus an obscene quantity of desserts everyday), have friends, meditate, enjoy my work, and try to love on my family.
But honestly? These things, as beneficial and essential as they are, do not scratch the itch in the same way that wolfing down a plate of nachos after a night class does, or the way pressing "Place Order" does, or the way receiving a package in the mail does. I'm sorry, but they just don't. I couldn't live without all these other things, but they don't set off the same physiological bells and whistles as chips and internet sales do.
And I don't want to give those things up permanently. I love a good binge sometimes. I just don't want to feel like it's the status quo.
Still, the idea of self-soothing kept nagging at me after that class. I couldn't figure out how to do it without food or shopping, but the idea was intriguing. It nagged at me.
Being a devoted habit-former, I kept eating nachos and shopping until Shtopping happened. But now I just have nachos to deal with. You would not believe how cheesy my keyboard is right now. And I'm not saying I have Shtopping 100% to thank for this epiphany, but maybe I do.
Because last night. Remember how I posted about how I was kind of freaking out about the state of my house and my stress levels at the end of the semester and then the puking flu? I was making fun of myself for that post today in my own head (while vacuuming up dog hair, I'll have you know): like, what the hell? In the time it took you to write that blog post, you could have vacuumed up all the dog hair!
Then I was all: wait.
Because you know what? I felt so much better after writing that blog post. Like nachos and shopping better. I felt so much better than I would have felt if I had not written about my disgusting toilet and instead had cleaned my disgusting toilet.
What?
Yes.
I don't totally know what to make of this yet, but here is what I think: making something, often in the form of writing, makes me feel just as good as buying or eating something.
Could the make be my form of non-destructive, non-addictive, happy-place-forming self-soothing activity?
Keep making, girl, 'cause you're good at it!
ReplyDeletemaybe it is!
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