I’m an emotional eater. When my grandmother passed away this summer, I ate so I didn’t have to process my grief. Over long breaks when I have absolutely nothing to do and I’m bored out of my skull, I’ll open a bag of chips and eat for something to do. I’m not exactly hungry, I just want to eat...I’m like the Grinch in that way. A lot of people I’ve encountered eat when they’re bored, and we joke about it, and even more eat when they’re stressed.

I’m not one of those people. When midterms and finals roll around, when I have papers due, when I’m struggling to adjust to a new college environment, when struggling to find a place to live, when my stress level ratchets up to new levels, eating gets pushed to the back burner. When I get busy and list out everything I have to get done in the day, eating becomes one of my last priorities. If I have to choose between sleeping and eating, I choose sleeping.

And it’s not as easy as well why don’t you just eat something? Because the thing is, I can’t eat something. I don’t want to. Yes, I know I need to eat. Yes, I may be hungry, but I have no will, no drive to eat anything. Nothing appeals to me, the thought of food is off-putting, and when I force myself to eat, I feel gross after.

So I just don’t eat. This results in feeling tired all the time, sleeping and not feeling rested, being irritable, disengaged in class. I don’t want to do things with people, but force myself to get out and socialize. I feel sick to my stomach because I haven’t consumed anything and acid and bile are rolling around in my belly, but the thought of eating makes me actually want to vomit. I feel terrible about myself and my day. I get sick. I’m always sick when midterms and finals come because I’m too stressed to want to eat and have nutrients. And when I get sick, the desire to eat lessens even more. And I lose weight.

I never worried about the Freshman 15. I never worried about gaining weight. I struggled with losing weight. My diet freshman year was comprised mostly of blueberry PopTarts, dry Frosted Flakes, Kraft Easy Mac, and bottles of Cherry Coke. These were things I had in my room and would force myself to eat at the end of the day because I knew I had to. I don’t eat these things much anymore, but when I start reaching for them in the cafeteria, that’s when I know there’s a problem.

Everyday, I have to consciously tell myself to eat something. Some days, it’s not as bad as others. The worst times are when there’s just so much, almost too much going on in my life. I’ve never thought of this as a disorder, and I still don’t really. To me, this is just a terrible way of handling stress that I need to fix. When I notice it happening, I tell my mom and I’ve started journaling, hoping that will help. I know that I will find a better way at coping with stress that doesn’t entail not eating, but I don’t think I’ll ever be a stress eater. Stress is just the one emotion I can’t swallow.