“What?” I said, aggressively. “I’m eating my feelings.”
“Write them down!” He shouted. Which is particularly funny, coming from him, because his motto is ‘Never write anything down. It will incriminate you.’
But I did used to write all my feelings down. And writing them down helped because I was able to sort them out, make some perverse sense of them - or, I was at least able to find the funny in them. Lately, I’ve not felt like writing about my feelings. I’ve felt like eating those feelings, shoving fat and sugar and salt right on top of them and squishing them down deeper into my whatever to deal with later.
Later is going to be a holy mess.
With that in mind, as I was licking the salt and fat off my fingers and smearing the chip crumbs off my face, I told Husband he was right. I should probably think about writing again...
And then this morning, at Costco I realized that Husband was wrong. Why write when feelings can be smothered in dark chocolate covered mangos.
I may have bought multiple boxes - I mean, bags.
Let’s face it, chocolate might not fix a feeling but it sure tastes good smothering them down.