About that Time I Ate a Corndog from the Gas Station

Sometimes the stress eats me, chews me up and spits me out into the fetal position on the floor. Sometimes I eat my stress.

Corndog from the RaceTrac yesterday. Sure, why not?

I’m in the middle of launching my debut novel, I started a small business, my kids started school, and the van didn’t start after church on Wednesday night. Corndog, totally justified.

Except… it didn’t make me feel better. (Disclaimer: If you think this is going to be a post about why you shouldn’t stress eat with practical tips for other things to do instead, you might be disappointed.)

You know what made me feel better? When my friend Sarah (yeah this Sarah) told me pickles are a vegetable at her house tonight. When my friend Kim (she’s right here) told me my off-the-cuff words to her made her day. When my friend Hannah (as in bestseller) told me I’m balancing the graciousness with the “please buy my book so we can get a new van” posts.

Sometimes I sort of feel like that corndog turning over in the roller hoping to be evenly heated on all sides but not burned on any. And the longer I transition from one role to another to another, I find that there’s really no easy time. No perfect time. No season of life that’s without its little storms.

So, sometimes I make a snap decision and eat junk food–the list this week is long and includes more gas station treats than just that corndog. My friend Leslie is my witness since I talked to her on the phone the other day the whole time I was buying peanut butter M&Ms because Canva made me cry.

Just do the thing–the little thing that makes you feel better. Call a friend. Hang a picture (did that this week too and amazing the difference). Eat a corndog from the gas station.

Well, maybe opt for the frozen yogurt instead.

Want to wear your pjs and eat whatever you want in the comfort of your own home but still be able to ask all the bookish-life questions? Join my Facebook event as we celebrate the eve of Still Waters launch!