Bilingual

So many people give the advice, "Listen to your body." It seems like lately, everywhere I turn, someone says it. My husband even said it (a little sarcastically, yes) to me last night.

It is a great theory. Supposedly our bodies are smarter than we are. Supposedly they know what they need, if we will just listen. I believe that many people are successful body-listeners.

I am not one of those people. In fact, I think my body is from a different country, because we don't speak the same language. Every time I listen to my body, it ends in disaster.

Today, when I felt on the precipice of a source-less panic attack for the entire morning and afternoon, I kept trying to listen.

I closed my eyes (blinked), I breathed (because it's a reflex), I cleared my mind (stared at the computer monitor in a daze for a few seconds), but nothing happened.

I didn't have time for listening. I had too many tasks to accomplish. Which is ridiculous. Especially since my resolution of the week is to be still. The more I tried to make room for introspection in my jumble of racing thoughts, the more stressed I felt.

So I took a drive. As soon as I left my kids, I mean house, I felt lighter. While I browsed the shelves at T.J. Maxx, soaking in color and sparkle and texture galore, I started to hear what I thought was,

"You need English Toffee or Fudge, Andrea. English Toffee (or fudge) will make all your problems disappear. Your body is sugar-deprived."

What are you supposed to do when your body takes that tone with you? I marched post-haste to the checkout line and made a last-second decision to ditch the fudge for the toffee.

And then I ate it all the way home, being cautious to listen for a signal from my body to stop. My body didn't say stop. Instead, it said,

"Eat just one more,"

again and again. Like a broken record. Or an echo. Until my stomach lurched, and I had to lay down. An hour later, with settled insides and that feeling of euphoria one feels after feeling so horrible, I finally understood what my body had been telling me:

"Eat until you are sick, Andrea. That is the only way to take your mind off the turmoil it is busy sorting through. Eat until you are sick so you can appreciate feeling well. Eat until you are sick so that you will never want English Toffee again. It'll work for one day, and then you will want English Toffee again."

"p.s. You should have bought the fudge instead."

One of these day, I'm going to teach my body to text. It'll save us both so much trouble.