Thought for Food

Last week I joined Curves and committed myself to their six-month “Curves Complete” program, which involves at least 4 workouts per week (I am doing 5), adhering to their meal plan, and a weekly accountability/motivational meeting with one of their trainers.
One of my “assignments” this week was to get on the forums and post about something I have learned about myself this week.  Well, I have learned that I use food to make myself feel better.  It’s not something I had ever seriously thought about before, but it really hit home this first week of my diet plan.
You see, a friend of mine, whom I had worked with for the past three years, passed away last weekend.  He had type 1 diabetes, and he slipped into a diabetic coma and died.  The terribly sad thing about all of this is that he lived alone.  Had he had a roommate, or been with someone at the time, they could have called an ambulance and he would most likely be alive today.
I think when someone close to you in age dies, it is natural to contemplate your own mortality, and dying alone is something that scares me.  I have a tendency to keep people at arm’s length, opting for solitude over socialization.  Will I continue to push until I am completely alone?  How long would it take someone to figure out I was gone?  I assume I would have cats, and then I start to feel concerned that too much time would pass before I was found and my cats would starve.  It is silly, yes, but it’s not like dwelling on your own mortality starts from a rational place to begin with.
So all week I have been very sad.  I attended the viewing on Thursday and afterward felt utterly deflated.  All I wanted to do was curl up on the couch with a bowl of ice cream and eat and cry.  Two weeks ago I probably would have, but now I had this commitment to myself and to Curves, and so I didn’t.  I then had a light bulb moment wherein I realized that food wouldn’t make me feel better anyway.  It would serve as a temporary fix, sure, but it wouldn’t have changed anything–my friend would still be gone, and I would still feel shitty about it.  At the end of the day, the only thing that eating a bowl of ice cream would have changed was my caloric intake.
Rest in peace, Bryant.  You are missed, buddy.