I’ll admit that I’ve been binge eating cereal for the past two or three days.
For those who are catching up, binge eating for me is about a gallon of milk and family (or giant) box(es) of cereal that mysteriously vanish in under 24h.

I’m not ashamed… okay, so maybe I’m a little (lot) ashamed of it, but it’s something that I have to acknowledge and take accountability for.  It’s an issue I’m having a hard time dealing with, hence the trips to Seymour to see the shrinks.

Okay, so when I was a child, I stress ate – although I didn’t know it at the time.   My childhood wasn’t exactly Disney quality – or even MGM – so I ate pretty much the whole time.  Healthy?  Right.  Think milk, but remove the cereal and add Oreos.

Logically binge eating = some sort of stress for me.
So, what could that be?
–  My family is doing their best to take care of me.
–  I’m pretty much getting along with everyone.
–  Money is always an issue, but not so much here.
–  I’m a co-teacher… so my class shouldn’t (in theory) be causing issues.

It came to me in a proverbial flash.   I was talking to Jason last night, around midnight.  He was telling me about the ups, the downs, the all arounds, of how his day went.  He got toasted by mowing the lawn.  Unfortunately, my Floridian sunshine is actually allergic to sunshine.

I got an update on is games.   He plays FF Exvius on the phone.  I started playing to so we could have a topic of conversation.. besides, I used to love the FF.  You know… just normal topics as we danced around the white elephant with the ever dwindling checking account.
—- Think of Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum.    Each bill he pays brings the pendulum closer… and closer… and closer…  Unlike in the story, there are no rats to chew the bonds.  The room is windowless and the door is barred.  He’s trapped.  It’s only a matter of time before the slice occurs.

Then, he asked me how I was doing — which is still a question I’m not used to from him.  (You got to keep in mind that our relationship was really, really, really messed up – and still is.)  All he did was ask me and my cereal fixation suddenly made itself clear.

Not one to dance with a white elephant, I told Jason what was bothering me… the taxes.   Should I receive a refund, I could give it to him and maybe pull the pendulum blade up a couple of inches.  Give him some breathing room.   I could delay the downfall – the loss of the house – that I worked 6 years, literally to death, to prevent.

I’m doing okay here.   He’s struggling, panicked, and depressed.  Jason has even said the house feels like a morgue.  With just a little flick, I could help him.  All he would have to do is ask if I didn’t automatically do it myself.

But he hasn’t.

As we try to be honest with each other, Jason admitted that he thought about it.  He’s probably thought about it a lot.  If I wouldn’t have said anything, he might never have brought it up.

So, back to the beginning.
Binge eating = stress.
—  Potential tax refund = stress….  which is really, really odd.  Most Americans look forward to a refund.  I (almost) wish I didn’t have one.   It might have kept the Cornelius’ Corn Flakes and the cannibalistic Cinnamon Toast Crunch safe for a couple of more days.  It might have saved me from feeling helpless.

But there’s a lot of mights.
Although I want to and it breaks my heart, I will do what I wanted to do with a refund – pay on a credit card.
But.. but.. but.. but…
I should help him, right?
Am I helping him by letting him suffer so?
Should I feel guilty of placing what I want over his needs?
I worked so hard to keep him from this situation.  Why should I abandon him now?

—  He won’t get the money.. but the stress eating will probably, although I try not to, will continue until the tax check arrives and disappears.
The guilt will probably always remain.