Current high pressure at work makes me grumpy, but also means that I can’t stop eating. It’s not a question of hunger, but of craving the comfort of food.

I often wonder if I’d been raised differently, if food hadn’t been such a big thing in our family, if I’d be doing something else for comfort,  like buying shoes or shirts. Or just sleeping. Or writing songs.

But food was always a reward and a punishment in our house, and all my life I’ve treated myself when I feel stressed.

Or when I don’t.