It’s the middle of the day. I just got out of class and I am ready to head home to relax. As I am walking to my car, I began to think about all of the things I need to do: clean my room, read chapters in three different books for three different classes. Then I have a paper to type, an outline to make, and an article due. I start to worry about time, about how to fit it all in. I worry about having to go to work later and losing that time. I think of my friends and family, how instead of joining them in fun activities I am going to be locking myself in my room for the weekend to study and complete these things. Oh, and did I mention I was beginning to get sick? The coughing and running nose weren't helping.

I stop and look around. I see the words “ice cream” and I head straight for it. I go to buy a medium but say, “large” instead. I sit down at a table and scarf it down. My anxiety and stress about the things I need to do die down, but the regret I have eating this ice cream fills that void.

I admit it. I stress eat. I use food as a way to comfort myself, as a way to distract me from what is troubling me. None of it is all that good either: ice cream, candy bars, big bags of chips that I sit and eat in one sitting. I feel guilty, but I use that guilt to hide the stress I was feeling before. Even when I was younger, even when I weighed more, and even when I lost a lot of weight, I would still eat. It was a way to punish my body instead of my mind. To shut me up and keep myself occupied with something easy.

And I’m here to say that I am not okay. I am not okay with how I treat my body. I am not okay with some of the things I put into it. I have mini streaks of eating healthy and working out but all of that gets demolished by fast food and overthinking. I keep eating so that the stress doesn’t eat at me. If you’ve read my first article, Why Being Over 200 Pounds Doesn't Scare Me Anymore, and I admitted that I was becoming comfortable with myself and not being as small as I was when I lost weight. I still am, I have awesome days that I feel good about myself, that I don’t constantly check a scale, and that I am still trying. But, I wanted to highlight this side of me that I struggle with. The girl who wants her cake but also wants to fit into smaller pants. The girl that stares at her old comparison picture from junior and senior year of prom, wonders which one she is trying to look like now.

I am also here to admit that it’s hard. It’s hard to stay motivated, hard to keep going, but you need to. I need to. I keep trying to do better each day, try to make a better snack, try to reach for yogurt instead of ice cream. I can admit that I won’t deprive myself, but I also don’t want to become dependent. I make small steps, but sometimes I end up back to where I was. I make sure to notice my own progress and not hinder it too much with guilt. It’s all about trying. Stress eating is something I can’t have anyone fix for me; it’s something I have to push through myself. I can get help with exercise, with better nutrition, but those people aren’t there when I am home alone staring down a bag of chips or a tub of ice cream. It HAS to be from me, and I am working on it. I know it will be a slow process, but it is one that I am willing to keep working on. I want to have a happy and healthy life, I want to eat and not feel guilty. I want to still be okay with being over 200 pounds, but keeping myself in check that I’m still being active.