Stress Eating

“You know that won’t solve anything. In fact, it will just make things worse.” The voice in Maren’s head came practically shouting at her as she eyed the bakery window. The first delicious thought of a slice of rich chocolate cake was quashed by the voice that sounded remarkably like her mother.

“I’ve had a stressful day, I’m tired, and I just want a treat.” She retorted in thought. Memories of the day’s events flashed through her mind as if it were another answer to the voice. The doctor’s office calling and asking her to come in to review lab results. The doctor himself admitting to not knowing much about her diagnosis. The words autoimmune, thyroid, and chronic fatigue being thrown out as if she should understand what it all meant for her life.

Maren’s phone began buzzing, pulling her out of her thoughts. She was still in front of the bakery, just down the street from her apartment complex. The rain kept dripping on her jacket and frizzing the hair she had actually put in the effort to straighten that morning. She reached into her pocket and answered the phone.

“Maren honey, how did it go? Did the doctors say anything?” Mom certainly didn’t waste any time with pleasantries.

“Hey Mom, uh… yeah. They said I’ve got an autoimmune disorder. Basically, my body is attacking my thyroid.”

“Oh! So, that would explain the weight gain then? And the lack of… energy?”

“Yep, I guess so.” Maren’s eyes rolled and she found herself staring into the window again. Cakes, cookies, and other delectable treats sat tempting her.

“Well, I am just so glad that you got some answers, but this sounds a bit serious. What did the doctors say about treatment? Is it caused by stress? Did you tell them about the diet I put you on? Has the exercise plan helped any? What else do we need to do?”

“Yes, I told them about the diet and the exercise. They said that those were all good things and I should keep doing them.”

“See honey, I knew that if you just ate better and got some exercise that you would feel so much better! The doctors know what they are talking about.”

“I mean, yeah but I still feel like crap and they said that I would need medication to treat it. Diet and exercise aren’t going to cure it, Mom.”

“Oh, I know honey. You know what? I think I will go and look up more about diets for autoimmune diseases. I’ll let you know everything I find out, but I’m sure it will still be good to keep up with the Keto and stay away from the sugar. And I bet if we can figure out the right combination of food and exercise, that you won’t even need to stay on the medication! I’ll talk to Aunt Linda too and see what essential oils we can try. We’ll get you feeling better, sweetheart. Don’t you worry. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Maren gave one last mournful look at the cake in the bakery before setting off toward home. The fact that she was an adult and could make her own decisions did not help get rid of the nagging voice inside her head, nor the nagging she would receive from her mother in person if she found out. She would just have to find something healthier and “mother-approved.” Sighing, Maren trudged through the rain, down the street, and up the two flights of stairs to her apartment.

She was already exhausted as she opened the door. Maren threw her soaked jacket and shoes off on the mat and immediately sank onto the couch. The lightheadedness and achy joints zapped whatever energy she might have had left. She closed her eyes and tried to simply breathe. Normally one of her roommates would have interrupted her meditation by now, but Leah and Emily had gone on a girls’ trip. Maren was invited but hadn’t felt up to it. There wasn’t much she did feel up to doing anymore.

After twenty minutes, Maren dragged herself up and moved to her bedroom. She moved like a grandmother with arthritis as she changed into her sweatpants and her university hoodie. She pulled her long chestnut tresses into a messy bun, once again cursing the idea to straighten it that day. The effort it had taken was not worth the frazzled bush it had become once the rain started. The weather seemed to only add to her pain, though her mother would tell her that “overcast skies shouldn’t make overcast attitudes!” But, now that she knew that there was more to her fatigue and depression than just stress, it seemed that the rain was just providing extra validation for her emotions.

Just when trying to decide if she should eat anything or just go to bed, Maren’s phone buzzed again.

I’m downstairs. Let me in.

Maren inwardly groaned at her brother’s text. She was so tired and she did not want to deal with anything else in one day. She went over to the entryway, grabbed her jacket off the mat and hung it up, kicked her shoes out of the way, and opened the door. Brad was just coming up the last few steps as she peered out into the hallway. His normally shaggy hair was flat on his head and dripping onto his shoulders. He was still in his waiter’s uniform and he carried a bag from the Italian restaurant where he worked. When he saw Maren, his face broke into a smile.

“Hey, Mom told me about your news. How are you doing?” Brad moved past Maren to set the bag down on the kitchen counter, then turned to scoop her up in his arms.

“You’re getting me all wet!” Maren shoved him away, though she appreciated the hug.

“I just wanted to check on you. And, I brought you something.” Brad pulled out a styrofoam container from the restaurant bag. Inside the container was a piece of five-layer chocolate cake with dark chocolate ganache. Maren’s taste buds tingled and she was pretty sure she just started salivating.

“I can’t. Mom has me on this diet to help with all the…”

“Is it working?” Brad questioned while holding the tempting dessert up to Maren’s face.

“What?”

“Is the diet working? Do you feel all better? Do you have loads of energy now?”

“No, but Mom…”

“What Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and one piece of cake after a long day is not going to hurt you.”

“But, stress eating can…”

“Can be a great coping mechanism for perfectionism and anxiety,” Brad finished for her, “I know because I do it all the time. Eat the cake, Maren. Screw what Mom says and just do something that feels good right now.”

Brad grabbed two forks from the cutlery drawer, put the cake on the counter, and steered Maren to the stool directly in front of it. Then, he took the stool next to her. He watched her intently as she was having an inner battle. Thoughts of weight gain and sugar crashes plagued her in those few moments. Finally, her voice won out over her mother’s voice inside her head and Maren picked up her fork. The chocolate was decadent and rich and all around heavenly. Her whole body seemed to sigh in relief as the ganache melted into her tongue. It was the first unhealthy thing she had had in a long time, and oh how incredible it was! Maren turned to face Brad in her stool and smiled.

“Well, you got two forks out so I assume you want some too.”

Brad eagerly picked up his fork and joined Maren in devouring the chocolate cake.