Around 5:30, I started having this gnawing ache in my middle. Just horrid. So very reminiscent of super hunger. Before MF, I would get up and eat a little something and go back to bed. But this morning, I remember, "This is Tired Stomach, not hunger." And I lay there working through it.
Back in my teens my high school sweetheart and I were generally separated by hundreds of miles - he had gone off to college. This was before the internet. Or cell phones. or FaceBook. So when he came home, each night after I was in for curfew, we would talk into the wee hours of the morning until one of us (usually him) fell asleep. And then I would have to wake up at regular time the next morning for school. I would be so tired. So tired that my stomach would hurt.
For years, I would recognize Tired Stomach for what it was. Not hunger, just a need for some more sleep. But somewhere along the way, about 10 years ago, I started interpreting it as hunger. I would get up and snack a little - some string cheese, a couple of nuts. A spoon of the left-overs from the previous night's meal. And this habit morphed into full-blown middle of the night snacking. "It's ok, you are hungry, your body needs more fuel." "It's ok, if you eat a little something, you can just go back to sleep." "It's ok..." One night I ate a whole pint of sludge. I had lost touch with the signals my body gave me.
This morning, I practiced paying attention. I recognized my feelings for what they were and did not get up and eat a little something. I am slowly slowly reconnecting with my body and what the signals it gives me mean.
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