Apparently I’ve begun hoarding food again. I didn’t really realize it until I opened a drawer this morning in the bedroom and found a bag of Hershey’s kisses. Then, when I was getting the new box of salt off the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet, I found three twix bars and a package of airheads.

I know it’s all a throwback to the years I spent sitting on the closet floor eating cake mix straight from the box, in the dark. An escape from the two women I lived with that, despite my athletic build and demanding sport schedule at the time, felt inclined to pepper me incessantly with insults and predictions that one day, the way I ate, I’d be “as big as a house”.

I also know that it’s a pretty clear sign that something in my head is amiss. Though, this time, there seems to be no one thing I can put my finger on, that would trigger this sort of self comforting behavior that normally occurs when I’m feeling quite at the end of my rope.