I’m having the food fight again. Most of the fight is internal to me, but it’s in reaction to my spouse. Oh, Al-Anon tools, how rusty you get when you’re not being picked up!

I perceive pressure from my spouse to eat, eat, eat. It’s relentless. It’s interminable queries about whether I really did get enough to eat. It’s handing me a plate heaped with enough to stuff two teenagers. It’s handing me a bowl with enough ice cream in it to wipe out three days’ worth of calories. It’s constant offers of cookies.

I know my spouse loves me. I’m also a Southerner, so I understand the mentality that food = love. I get that.

I also get that I do get to choose what to eat, how much, and when. I get to have boundaries – and I’ve been letting those slip. That’s on me.

Whatever my spouse does, there is nothing in the world stopping me from taking my plate to the kitchen and putting away the portions I don’t want into the fridge. Same for all the extra ice cream in the bowl. I don’t have to accept the whole helping; I don’t have to eat it all. And when the question, “Did you get enough to eat?” turns into nagging, it’s completely okay for me to smile, get up, and go somewhere else. I don’t have to sit still for it.

All the above is a reminder for me, because I’ve been forgetting. I’ve been getting so angry and sulky and resentful. I’ve gained weight again and my pants don’t fit and I’ve been blaming the spouse instead of taking responsibility.

Sometimes I feel so tired, and so discouraged. Maybe when I feel like this, I can pray for help.

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