To look at me, I know, I know, you’d think that I’d be a stress eater. I mean, when I’m not stressed, I’m an eater. Friends in town? Let’s go out to eat! New job? Time to try that new restaurant! Birthday? Buy (Did you think for a second I’d say bake? Because then you’d be dreaming!) a cake! But, when something is up, be it from a break up to stress at work to will I get into grad school, it’s the opposite. I have no appetite. I remember arriving in Belgium, having no place to stay, a not working bank card, language barriers AND not knowing anyone, and basically not eating for three days. Not because I didn’t want to eat, but because I just couldn’t think about it when there were so many more important things to think about. Basically, I can only eat when I’m content. Fortunately, I’m almost always content.

The other side effect to being stressed out is that I work out. You know, you have all that nervous energy and you need to do something to take your mind off things. And going for a run, well, there’s only one thing you can think about while you’re on the treadmill–Not Dying. For a few blessed minutes, I cannot think about why I’m not happy. All I can think about is survival. It’s the most important thought and it trumps all the other ones. The even more amazing thing? The feeling lasts once I get off of the treadmill, too. I feel better about myself, my body, my head space. It’s a pretty simple (and cheap!) way to put everything in perspective. And once things are back in perspective, I’m pretty functional. I can be nice to people (my poor parents take the brunt of my bad moods…I’m pretty sure I’m out of the will). I can think positively. I can be funny. Well, in my opinion, anyway.

Now, there’s nothing particularly off right now. Or at least, nothing I can put my finger on. I mean, work is great, but its busy and there’s lots to do and I find myself thinking about things to do late into the night. But, I’m settling in, and I really really like it. In a “please keep me around” kind of way. Maybe I’m just coming down from the excitement of last weekend, which was insanely busy and fun, even with the killer hang over on Sunday. Maybe I’m just feeling a little off and a little out of sorts. I think everyone is allowed to feel like that, once in a while. And, talking about it always helps me to sort things out, at least momentarily. I mean, I am female. Of course I’ll just talk and talk and talk. That’s what we do! I do feel like I’m looking for something to change, for something to happen. And I suppose, letting anything other than myself be the impetus is just plain silly. Why is it just so much easier to wallow than it is to act?