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.