One Saturday night, I needed some alone time out of the house, so I decided to hit up the local coffee roaster for some reflection time. Jim was playing poker at the casino with his friends, so he wouldn’t miss me not being home to make him dinner. He would probably just end up grabbing a grinder after losing all of our money. There was never a cap on his gambling. Jim would bring multiple credit cards and get all of the cash advances he was allowed. When he was still there the next morning, the cards would reset, and he would be able to take out more. He never cared about the total amount. The addictive nature of his hobby always got the best of him. Even when his friends left the casino, he would continue to play, not caring that he was alone. The more he played, the more drinks they gave him, and the more money he wasted. The women servers loved his big tips and flirtatious attitude, though he never flirted with me, well, not in a decent way. There were even a few times that women who worked there offered to meet him in a hotel room when they got off of their shift.
When I arrived at the coffeehouse, it was packed and I immediately began to feel claustrophobic. I became hyperaware of everyone around me like they were judging me and thinking about my body flaws. I crossed my arms across my chest to try to make myself seem smaller so maybe no one would notice me as I slid into line like a ninja. I perused the menu up on the board and my eyes darted back and forth. There was hot coffee, iced coffee, macchiatos, lattes, cappuccinos, syrups, and more making me even more confused about what I wanted. But then, in bold print each drink option had the calorie count listed. I couldn’t do it. My brain froze with anxiety. The numbers triggered me, and my diet talk began. I told myself I couldn’t order something with so much sugar or so many calories. The voices overwhelmed me and I couldn’t think straight. My head was spinning, trying to calculate how many calories I was allotted for the day. Even a black coffee listed 5 calories per serving. Minutes flew by, and my indecisiveness got the best of me. I soon snapped out of the torture when it was my turn to order at the counter.
“What would you like?” The very question that I was dreading. I didn’t know what I liked. Most of the time I avoided what I really wanted so I assumed I never wanted anything. The pace of my heartbeat began to quicken. My throat felt like it was closing up and all of a sudden I couldn’t swallow. The frog in my throat felt dry like I was in a desert and dying of thirst.
I tried clearing my throat, “A hot black coffee, please?” I questioned in a whispered. My tone was so low that I don’t think the server heard me based on the confused look on her face.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” I cringed at the sound of the word ma’am. The word made me feel so old.
“Small black coffee, hot, please,” my voice finally found the strength to speak in a louder tone.
“Dark, light, or medium?” She asked. Oh great, another decision.
“Dark, I guess?” I begrudgingly replied.
“That will be $2.13, please.” I fidgeted with my purse in order to get out the correct change. My shoulders collapsed as I handed the money to the young woman. The money almost dropped to the floor as my hand shook from my blood sugar quickly dropping. I hadn’t eaten anything all day but a banana and two pickles. I knew I should get something to eat to go with my coffee, but most of the options were sugarcoated and decadent. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at those calorie amounts, which were probably around 400 to 600 calories each item. All that sugar, butter, and gluten would sure fatten me up and make me feel awful for days.
She handed me a small black coffee, which I received without saying a word. The warmth of the cup should have burnt my hands, but my skin was often numb from undereating. My tendency to have extreme emotions was easier to keep under control if I couldn’t feel. I felt overwhelmed in this environment and desperately wanted to escape. I searched the room for a quiet corner to write in my journal. It appeared as if most of the good corners were taken by other bodies. Hiding was something I was good at. I often referred to myself as a ninja. My steps were often very quiet and most people never saw me coming. As my eyes darted around the rectangular shaped building, they spotted the perfect little nook in the back of the room with a comfy looking chair. Relief set in as I walked quickly away from the crowds to finally have space in order to breathe.
Quickly sitting down, I adjusted my coffee on the end table next to the chair and surveyed the room. Saturday nights were also entertainment nights and I didn’t really keep up on the talent of the evening. It was probably posted on social media, but whenever I went onto Facebook, I ended up scrolling through Tasty videos and looking at fitness influencers, all the while becoming more dissatisfied with my own body.
I reached for my phone and realized there was a free Wi-Fi signal, so I signed in. My digits trembled as my apps were at my fingertips. I wanted to write, but YouTube was calling me. I wondered what new cheat day videos had been posted. Watching someone else eat entertained my desire for food without the extra calories on my hips and thighs. The ooh and aah moments made my lips quiver with desire yet gave me a euphoric feeling of restriction making me feel empowered. Watching what I didn’t let myself eat was like an enjoyable form of torture. Food was my enemy and my friend at the same time. I didn’t have many friends, so that definitely made sense and gave me comfort in the familiar.
The longer I scrolled, the more food challenges and cheat days came up in my feed. I plugged my headphones in so I could start numbing out. The sound of their lips smacking and the resonance of people chewing made me feel alive. I could watch other people eat doughnuts, pizza, and ice cream, some of my biggest fear foods. I didn’t have to face them for myself and deal with my emotions surrounding them. Avoiding the pain was easy when I could zone out on YouTube. Writing down my feelings brought a sense of pain, and I never got to the peaceful feelings on the other side. Guilt washed over me as I started watching the newest Always Hungry cheat day 15,000 calorie challenge.
I picked up my steaming beverage to take a few sips. My tongue felt the heat as I pulled back from the cup realizing I had burnt it, once again. Impatience often got the best of me due to my shakiness from not eating. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to eat more, I just didn’t feel I deserved it. It was like a punishment for taking up space. So if I ate less, I was worth less, and in turn, I would take up less space.
I zoned out watching a fit young woman consume six doughnuts in a sitting and an entire Pizza Hut pizza to herself. How I wished I could let myself eat all of that and more. When I did eat my fear foods, I was so afraid of them that I inhaled them with barely tasting their essence. I never allowed myself to be in the moment and truly enjoy the food, so I never have gotten over my fear foods for good. They still have a hold on me and it hurts. It hurts all of the time. I shove my fear foods down because I am scared, just like I do with my feelings.
The lights of the cafe dimmed for a moment, and I suddenly was back in reality. As I checked my watch, I realized it was almost 7:30 PM and the talent would be starting soon. I didn’t really have a good view of the stage, but I didn’t mind as long as I could hear the artist. I took my headphones out for a moment. If I didn’t like the music, I usually would start scrolling through Tasty recipe videos and drooling over all the decadent foods I would never allow myself to have a crumb of. The guitarist was warming up his fingers with a soulful tune that reminded me how much I wished Nick was there so I didn’t feel the need to fill the void with maladaptive coping mechanisms. The pit of my stomach sank as the feeling of loneliness set in. The caffeine from the coffee started to make my heart race. It couldn’t calm my nerves or my empty stomach. I yearned for love, the way I yearned for food. Neither one was something I thought I deserved.
Darting to the back of the building to use the bathroom to beat the rush before the show, I swung opened the bathroom door, ran into a stall, shutting the door and locking it tight. I pulled down my cotton briefs from under my dress and sat on the toilet. I cradled my head into my hands as I took deep breaths. With my eyes closed, I tried to focus my energy on my breathing and heartbeat, but it wasn’t helping much. I couldn’t stay in this stall forever. I realized there was a line of high heals gathering outside when I peered through my sweating fingers and glanced under the stall. “Must be the rush,” I thought. “I should finish up.”
For a brief moment, I debated throwing up my feelings so I could feel empty and pure. At the moment, my heart and stomach felt heavy. The feeling of walking on air intrigued me and made me feel powerful. I reminded myself that I couldn’t do that, not here. Everyone in the bathroom would be disgusted by the noise. A little bit of disappointment set in as I reluctantly shoved the idea down into my inner being. I pulled up my old fashioned underwear, some people have described using the slang, “granny panties”, situated my dress, and flushed the toilet.
As I left the stall and quickly washed my hands to get out of the uncomfortably small space, I regretted not throwing up. I already felt queasy so it wouldn’t have taken much. I needed a release, just a small something to feel alive. Nick made me feel alive, but he wasn’t here at the moment. For so long I had told myself I didn’t need more and that I didn’t deserve love. Now that I may have found it, the timing wasn’t right and I wanted to run away. Or maybe the timing was right?
Upon returning from the restroom, I sat down to the sound of a beautiful guitar. Always wishing I had the discipline and finger dexterity to play myself, joy rose within my heart when I heard others play with talent. I closed my eyes to absorb the feeling that was coming over me. Music spoke to my soul and had helped me through so many hard times. Whomever this musician was, he knew me and had been where I had been. The unspoken conversation began in my heart until he began to sing. His voice sounded so familiar. Unfortunately, introductions had been made while I was in the bathroom so I curiously wanted to know who this mysterious guitar player could be. It almost sounded like, like, no, it couldn’t be. Could it?
Rising from my isolation, I glided toward the stage to find a young man with dark hair playing an acoustic electric guitar with a fiery passion. His head was slightly tilted where I couldn’t quite make out his face. As his profile came into view, I recognized who it was: Nick. My heart almost stopped beating for a moment. The earth felt like it shook with an emotion meant for my intuition only. A look of shock must have been painted on my face. He didn’t notice I was staring at him since he was so involved in his playing, but as he finished the song he was on and gave his guitar strings one last strum, he raised his large brows toward the crowd, and me. Frozen in time, I stood still in the middle of the room admiring Nick. Joy filled my heart when I realized he was smiling at me as shivers went up and down my body.
“All right. Thank you everyone. I’m going to take a quick coffee break and I’ll be back in a few. Stick around,” Nick announced to the audience. He leaned his guitar against his amp and turned off the microphone. Without looking away from my face, he walked over to the drip coffee station and poured himself a medium roast coffee from the spout. One of the perks of playing at Pine Needles was that unlimited hot coffee was included. Nick had a smirk on his face and looked away as he poured cream into his cup. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw how he was flirting with me from across the room. I took one last glance at Nick and walked swiftly back to hide in my corner table. His eyes still spying at me from across the room, I watched him grab two sugar packets before strutting over toward me with his chest puffed out.
“Fancy seeing you here. I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me,” Nick teased with a huge grin on his face.
“You’re the one stalking me. You always show up where I work, and plus, I didn’t even know you would be here.” The smile on my face said it all.
“But my name was on tonight’s list for the entertainment,” he replied with a huge grin that caused the creases next to his eyes to appear.
“I never look at that. I just come when I need some quiet time out of the house to journal.” I grew shy and my eyes trailed down toward my lap where my fingers were twiddling.
“Erin, Erin, Erin. When will you ever learn that our paths were meant to cross. I am intrigued by you.” The drop in the tone of his voice made my cheeks turn a rose-colored pink which was more than obvious as I felt the warmth radiating my skin.
“I should probably get back to my coffee before it gets cold,” I fidgeted in my chair shifting back and forth on my sitz bones. I wanted to hide from the strong pull I felt toward Nick. It was beginning to be too much, but I knew I couldn’t get away from him that easily.
“Hey, I still have a few minutes to chat. Let’s enjoy my break together.” A small smile peaked it’s way on my face with nervous energy. “And don’t worry about your coffee. If it does get cold, I’ll get you a fresh one. That’s a perk of being the entertainment: free coffee all night!” he let out a jolly laugh.
“That’s kind of you to offer. And I agree, that you are entertaining,” I turned my head at an angle with a crooked grin toward Nick for a second and then continued looking down at my chair wanting to curl up into a ball and disappear. Eye contact only made me want him more and I really didn’t need any more of that at this point. My heart was already melting to pieces. I bit my lip in an anxious fashion when he wasn’t looking. A loud noise that sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard sounded and I cringed. Nick had grabbed an empty chair and pulled it up next to me letting it skid against the floor. My hands traveled up to my hair and I started twirling it around my fingers to relieve my anxiety.
“What if that was somebody’s seat?” Part of me wished it was, then I wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable situation.
“It is now. Besides, I’m only staying here a few minutes. The real action will start when I’m done at 9.”
“What action is that?”
“Spending quality time with my new friend.”
“What new friend?” I flirted back. I loved playing with people. As much as I hated being in the hot seat, my anxiety always brought out my sense of humor.
“A cute girl I met recently. Unfortunately, she doesn’t like me that much and is unavailable at the present time, but that won’t stop me from getting to know her better.”
“Why do you think she doesn’t like you?” My face was becoming a shade of crimson as I bantered back with Nick.
“Well, she has this husband that she can’t seem to get rid of or get off her mind. It’s like he’s more important to her. I guess that makes sense, but if this relationship is going to go anywhere at all she needs to be more open to other opportunities.”
“I see. Well, maybe she is just shy or reserved.”
“Could be, but I’m hoping she’ll show more of her wild side eventually,” Nick winked and darted his eyes away toward the stage. “Well, I guess they’ll need me back soon. If you are still here, we can chat, otherwise have a nice night.” Nick picked up his coffee and grazed his empty hand against my hand that was resting on the arm of the comfy chair. Shivers went down my spine and I felt a chill. Taking risks empowered me and scared me to death. I was fighting the good girl in me and finally feeling free.
He made his way back up toward the small stage to perform. “Hey Everybody! Thanks for sticking around. I’ve had some coffee and I’m ready to play some more!” Nick announced. I was excited to hear what else he had to play. I also wrote songs, but just mostly lyrics. I had a hard time writing down the music I heard in my head and became frustrated easily when I did attempt it. I was in awe of Nick’s ability to write instrumental music of his own.
After Nick played the rest of his set, he thanked the audience one more time and started to pack up his guitar. I didn’t really get much journal writing done because I was too busy listening to Nick’s performance. At least his music got me to put down my phone and stop me from looking at food porn. I’m not even sure why I became mesmerized by food yet disgusted at the same time. But anyway, listening to Nick play relaxed me and brought a moment of bliss that food never did.
Nick grabbed another coffee on his way over to me and quickly turned back to the bar in order to grab a second one. After he had two cups of black dark roast coffee in hand, he strutted to the back of the cafe and handed me one of the cups of coffee.
“I will try it the way you normally drink it. Maybe it will grow on me.” Nick smiled slyly.
“I just like it the natural way that God intended it.”
“How do you know how God intended it to be drunk? He also gave us milk and sugar.”
“Too true,” I remarked with a crooked grin. “How did you know my coffee order?” I asked.
“The young woman who works here let me in on the secret. She has a fantastic memory,” Nick grinned.
“Are you close with her?” I asked.
“No, not really. That doesn’t matter. Let’s talk about you. I know you mentioned the other day you had some coping issues. If you don’t mind me asking, in what ways did you try to cope?”
“I didn’t realize it at the time, but I harm myself so much. I had grown accustomed to being abused emotionally and began harming myself through restriction and binging,” I lowered my eyes after sharing.
“With food?”
“Yes. I know it must seem absurd, but it was something I could control. I felt so out of control that I needed something tangible to hold on to. Food was the easiest thing for me to grasp at. It was a comfort, a friend, and an enemy all at the same time. I still have a lot of fear around food. Grocery shopping alone causes me so much anxiety.”
“But I thought you liked cooking?” Nick questioned.
“I do, just not the eating part. I like watching other people enjoy my food. It makes me feel accomplished and important. I put a lot of pride into my cooking, so when people don’t like it, it really hurts my feelings.”
“That sounds really hard to deal with. Well trust me, I like you without knowing how good your cooking is.”
“I…can…trust you?” I asked hesitantly.
“I want you to. Trust is an important part of a friendship. I want to be there for you.”
“That’s what my husband told me when we were dating,” I sighed. “After we got married, everything changed. He grew distant and no longer confided in me. He gambled and drank our surplus away and I began not trusting him.”
“Has it gotten any better?” Nick asked with concern.
“It’s gotten worse relationship wise. He spends less on his vices, but he hangs out with his friends a lot more than me. They have a game night every week, just the guys. The wives usually go out to a movie or for a glass of wine, but I’m not much of a social butterfly.”
“You’re prettier than a butterfly.”
I blushed. “Thanks.” I looked down at my watch and realized it was getting close to closing time. “Well, I really have to go. It’s getting late. I’ll see you around, okay?”
“I’ll make sure of it.” Nick held out his hand to shake mine, but I resisted. I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was in friendship. Do you shake hands? Hug? I decided not to make a move and gave a small wave as I walked out of the cafe with my things. Did he feel rejected? Would he ever talk to me again? Maybe I should have been more engaged and responsive, but I wasn’t ready yet.
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