There are times when all the food in the world could not fill me, and there are times when I can’t even stand the sight of it much less put the foul stuff in my mouth.

Now the first statement stands. I feed the sadness, the greed, the confusion, the loneliness, the anger, the regret, the guilt, the shame, and the anxiety. I am feeding my family of feelings. They gather round the table vying for my attention.

I am afraid that if I stop feeding them that they will revolt and I’ll be overtaken.

Maybe it’s this fog, maybe there are things lurking in it that I didn’t see before, maybe it’s not as harmless as I thought.

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