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I’m a journal type of person. Actually, you could say I’m a notebook addict. I’ve got journals for diary writing, I’ve got dream journals, sketch book journals (notice there are a lot of plurals going on here) and my most resent addition: A food journal, to write what I eat in so I can identify bad eating habits and food that I may not even know doesn’t agree with me. (Mystery headaches anyone?)

Day 1: I’m excited to get going and at the end of the day I write down the what and when of what I’ve eaten. I close the Food Journal (FJ) and looking up my gaze falls on my daily journal (DJ). DJ seems somehow insulted that I didn’t choose to pick him up first. I write in him next and putting him away feel good.

End of week 1: FJ is calling out all my flaws. DJ feels ignored. I tell myself I can balance both relationships. I’m not giving up just because it’s uncomfortable.

Mid-week 2: FJ is repeatedly not allowing me to feel comfortable now. I worry more and I forget to make time for DJ. I can feel DJ calling to me from the bed side table, but I’m tired. I roll over and fall asleep not so sure of my self.

End of week 3: I am keeping my interaction with FJ to the bare bones. I lie to him about my how I’m spending the dessert period of my evening and I don’t like keeping him around, but I don’t know how to stop. I purposely don’t talk with DJ so I don’t have to confront my inner feelings.

Day 24: My husband and my cat have sat me down for an intervention. My husband doesn’t think the emotional strain of my relationship with FJ is benefiting me in the long run and the cat doesn’t appreciate my writing everything he eats down on the kitchen white board. I break down into tears and addmit everything he says is true. He hands me DJ and we hug. I dump FJ and mountians of stress fall from my shoulders.
The cat and I have come to the agreement that as long as he doesn’t drag anything into the house I won’t detail what he eats to the rest of the family.


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