Self-Care = Junk Food?

/ Jeff Cann

Early in the week, June texted me. I’ve got a credenza and three file cabinets. She’s clearing out her home office, finally retired, the library where I work as good a donation recipient as anyone. A few weeks ago, she dropped off a big box of office supplies.

I texted back the next day. Can you send pictures?

I already did.

Sorry, I’m off my game.

Self-care, Jeff, self-care

Off my game: I’ve used that phrase twice this week. I’m screwing up at work. This morning, I called in sick but didn’t check my calendar. My nine o’clock showed up on schedule, she drove in from the next town. She hasn’t responded to my apology email.

It’s been a crazy two weeks. I took a five-day east coast jaunt to Massachusetts, Maine, and Rhode Island; instructed extra spin classes subbing for an injured colleague; worked a massive three-day book sale; had dinner with an online friend I’d never met. Two weeks of constant motion.

Getting sick was a given, I’m always sick after the book sale. It’s a superspreader event. Annually, thousands of people pack a rented auction house to shop a year’s worth of donated books. As a cashier, I interact with many of them. I handle their money and their credit cards. I make small talk. Because of Tourette, I lick my lips and wipe them dry every eight seconds. I tried to wipe on my shirt sleeve, but I must have used the palm of my grimy hand a couple hundred times.

Wednesday morning felt like swallowing broken glass. My Covid test read negative so I went to work and processed payroll. I spent the rest of the day asleep in bed. Thursday, feeling better, I worked all day and stupidly instructed a spin class I should have cancelled.  Today, Friday, I’m down for the count.

Coughing, congestion, contagion. I’m home alone and avoiding Susan when she’s around. The vibration of my pervasive stimming grunt in the back of my throat loosens mucus in waves like a bursting dam. Quick trips to the bathroom flush away the draining fluids that would otherwise settle in my lungs. A three-week cough is my inevitable result of a simple head cold.

A Monday blood test signaled high cholesterol. I had it under control with my daily oatmeal breakfast. I fell off that wagon six months ago. I returned to breakfast cereals. Cinnamon Oat Crunch Cheerios promises three and a half hours of satiation right on the front of the box. That never happened. After ninety minutes my hands shake from hunger. Yesterday I made oatmeal with blueberries and walnuts. I felt ready to tackle the fifteen pounds I’ve put on since 2012.

This morning knowing I was sick, and hungry from my post-spin calorie deficit, I scarfed down three bowls of Golden Grahams. I shopped for donuts and cake. I bought an Italian sub and kettle chips for lunch. Hot dogs for dinner. I grabbed a bag of Old Bay seasoned caramel corn just because. For some reason, I think self-care means junk food.

As my sick day draws to a close, I feel disgusting, overfed. My comfort food has left me uncomfortable, weighted down. I’ll take another shot at self-care tomorrow, an oatmeal breakfast and some time outside now that the heat and humidity of the last two months have passed. I doubt I’ll feel good enough to go to yoga, but starting the day with a two-mile walk might be a few steps in the right direction.

Photo by cottonbro studio on pexels.com

31 thoughts on “Self-Care = Junk Food?”

  1. Oh boy, sounds like you’ve had an interesting couple of weeks, Jeff. Sorry to hear you’re sick “For some reason, I think self-care means junk food…” This is straight out of my own playbook. 🫤 Here’s hoping you start feeling better soon. I need to follow your oatmeal regimen. I’d rather suffer through a bowl of the stuff each day than use statin meds.

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    • I’ve been on cholesterol meds on and off since my 30s. Even when I take them, I typically hover just over the safe range. The couple years I was obedient about oatmeal were the only times I sat in the healthy range. Started this morning with oatmeal. Off to a better start.

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    • Yes, without the library sale, I suspect most of those 30,000 – 40,000 books would wind up in the landfill (tip in your parlance). Probably 60% of the books we sell will come back to us over the course of the year to sell next year. The thousands that don’t sell go to a wholesaler who keeps what he wants, and the rest are sold to a recycling operation. It’s a huge event in my tiny town. I’m giving up my position as the Treasurer of the organization this year, so my participation next year will be a fraction of what it has been. Maybe I’ll avoid sickness henceforth.

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  3. I hated oat porridge until I discovered you didn’t have to eat it with salt (my dad’s preference), sugar (my mum’s preference) or milk (their unsuccessful ploy to get me to eat porridge for breakfast when I was a child). What a pity I was fifty when I worked that out!
    ~
    I hope you are looking after yourself Jeff. I also hope my wish to get well soon carries some weight.
    Kind regards,
    DD

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    • Porridge! I love that. The word doesn’t exist anywhere in America except in the Goldilocks story. Salt sounds horrible, but I confess to a healthy dose of brown sugar in my oatmeal. You’d think the blueberries would be enough, but over the past 60 years, Mr Kellogg has trained me to start the day with a terrible sweet tooth.

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    • LOL. The phrasing “I hate it when *you’re* sick.” I assume you mean when *one’s* sick, but of course I read it that you hate when *I’m* sick… most likely because I write about inane stuff like donuts and mucus. Regarding the urge to eat crap, I can’t believe all that sugar and fat helps the cause, but it’s really hard to exhibit self-control in a weakened state.

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  9. I hope you feel better soon. I admit to enjoying junk food too, especially when things aren’t going well. I don’t think one donut will kill you but maybe several dozens of them will. (My oatmeal tends to last way too long, which is to be expected since I tend to avoid it.) Anyhow, I hope you feel more like yourself soon.

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  10. Sorry that doing good things has made you catch an illness!

    I’ve been tracking my fiber because of high cholesterol – not on a statin yet, but probably ought to be. I find that if I eat a lot of protein, I don’t crave junk food as self care, but in general I really relate to that!

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  11. When I taught teenagers my advisory group always brought donuts for our once-a-week check in time. Lard balls I called them. They couldn’t understand how anyone could turn down such a staple of modern kid life. Your photo reminds me of all the reasons I didn’t like them! But give me a croissant, or two … yum.

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  12. Pingback: Self-Care = Junk Food? – DateDashers.com

  13. That’s some rate of activity you catalogued there, Jeff. All that humanity too. No wonder your system demanded some downtime! Hope that did the trick.

    PS. Once you retire medical appointments become almost a full-time job. Sad but true.

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