Starving for More

All I can think about is food.

I’m out walking the dog: What will I sink my teeth into when I go back inside?

At the office I’ve got a big project to work on and I don’t know where to begin, or I’ve said something stupid, or I just realized that I made a mistake: I need some tea, or maybe candy.

In the shower, I’m thinking about the hard crunch that I want; to sink my teeth into something hard and sweet.

But I’ve eaten all the sweets. The ice cream is gone. I finished off the tantalizing Tony’s Chocolonely bar (which lasted less than a day and a half). My share of the cider donuts have been devoured. I may have eaten a healthy portion of cucumbers and almond butter for a snack this morning, and a savory bowl of biryani for lunch, but I immediately followed it up with hot cocoa and a chocolate chip cookie.

The day begins with sugar and caffeine: A hot English Breakfast tea with 1.5 teaspoons of white sugar and a splash of half and half. I drink it within a half hour of waking, because I find that if I wait too long—an hour or two—the caffeine headache will wrap its vice around my skull and squeeze. My husband, Nate, always makes me an English Muffin egg sandwich for breakfast, except on the mornings when I make a healthy and delicious bowl of oatmeal (with no artificial sugar!).

I get to work way too early, and spend my 45 minutes before shift doing hip exercises, crunches, and pushups while listening to NPR and self-help podcasts. I work from 8 to 9 a.m. And at 9, I allow my second cup of tea (this is great fun—the ritual, the sweetness, walking away from my desk for a few moments of bliss). By 9:30 or 10 I’m ready for a snack. Sometimes it’s homemade pumpkin hummus with pita chips or baby carrots; today it was cucumber and almond butter, which is a strange combo; sometimes it’s trail mix, applesauce, or guacamole.

Lunch is generally leftovers, which range between almost vegetarian—butternut-squash and thyme soup—or carnivorous—sloppy joes. Lunch isn’t merely food though. I take advantage of that full hour to eat and walk. Sometimes I read, or write, or listen to a podcast, or watch some John Oliver, or one of my coworkers sticks around and we chat. Lunch time is me-time or it’s social-time.

Inbetween snacks and meals and tea, I fill my empty moments with exercise: half-pushups with my hands on top of the nearby credenza; half-squats into the office chair that doesn’t roll; long ballerina legs as I try to stretch out my hip more and more, to my old limits.

I get super tired around 1:00 or 2:00. I steep some strong cinnamon-orange black tea that I can’t steep for more than 3 minutes or it will be too spicy to drink. I have a hard time keeping my eyes open. Sometimes I slap myself to stay awake. I raise the desk to its standing position and try to focus. I like to practice punches when I’m this tired, so it gets my blood moving: 50 jabs with the right arm, 50 with the left; 50 crosses with each arm; 50 upper cuts and 50 hooks. It’s quick, taking less than five minutes (I’m going for waking up, not building muscle), and setting me back into my work.

At home I get restless. I make dinner, or Nate does. We eat, usually while watching a show. After that, it’s time to take the dog for a walk, and a shower if I need it, and then it’s our own time. Nate plays video games, and I continue searching for my purpose, that thing I’m yearning for, the next obsession, or the next education, or the next story or essay or book—or maybe an activity to do with other people, because Nate and I still don’t have friends out here, it’s still just the two of us.

I’m scenting for a hobby or a friend or a lifestyle. I don’t even know what that means—all I know is that I miss learning, and for some reason, I keep stuffing myself with food. I am trying to fill emptiness with carbs and sugar; with crunch and syrup; with comfort food instead of true comfort—instead of doing the thing, trying different things, I’m eating. Like it’s the easiest craft to pick up, the closest at hand. I never go hungry in my stomach, but my drive for purpose is starving.