What a difference food makes

So I was going to make a post about the low, desperate feeling I was having. The feeling in my stomach, a sick feeling that felt like my stomach was turning inside out and being consumed by its own acids. Upset about not being able to find a job, about running to the end of my money, about not knowing where I’ll be living in four weeks or if I can figure that out, where I’ll be in six months. Worried that being so stressed for so long may be burning a hole in my stomach lining. I was going to post about how I was finally reaching (or passing) that point in unemployment where it really starts to get to you that you aren’t hireable, that you feel worthless and unwanted and unskilled…

Except that before I started writing I thought I may as well eat something. I had been putting it off because I thought I was going to be going to bed, and I’m trying not to eat right before I go to bed to help me not gain weight. So if I’m going to be making a long emotional post, I may as well eat something. Except that as soon as I started eating, before I even finished loading the website that allows me to post, I felt better. The feeling in my gut, the feelings of worthlessness, the sadness, the worries about finding a job, they all disappeared. Just melted away.

The undying hope. Self assurance. Confidence. A happy, whole stomach.

Everything is going to work out fine; I just forget that sometimes when I get hungry. Eat to live, don’t live to eat.