Eating At Home, Because That’s Where My Heart Is

Being on the road amplifies lots of things. Small things can become larger. Large things seem untenable and tumultuous. But the worst may be the eating.

I’m well aware of my food issues. I have struggled with food seemingly all my life, food and my feelings about food and all that goes with it, and it’s weird that it came yet again to the forefront during this last trip.

[Before I go on, I need to interject that weeks before we left on this trip I knew it would be a hugely transforming event. I just didn’t know what the transformation would be. Still don’t, but things become more clear all the time.]

Anyway. Food. Matthew’s mom is a better cook than he makes her out to be, but there were certain offerings I could have done without. Like most of them. And I am hopelessly snobbish about my coffee (does it ALWAYS have to be burnt? What is UP with that anyway??). Sigh.

And then at my brother’s house we had carbs. Pasta. Pasta again. Pizza. Bagels daily. He trains year-round for cycling, so for him I guess the carb thing makes sense. I heart my carbs, but I was longing for a vegetable. Stick of celery. Broccoli. Anything green.

On the way home we stopped for a sustainable burger. No lie. Better than it sounds, but I am SO DONE with fast food. Like for the next 10 years. My body is still screaming WHHHYYYY??? at me.

So today I cooked. Simple. Rice and lentils and vegetables. It felt good. Like home. And with everything else still feeling like not-home, that helps.