Mac and Cheese and Remorse

Mac and Cheese and Remorse

My emptiness is unending.

Cravings curl around me like ribbons, tendrils of temptation that offer a numbness this winter’s day cannot rival.
I am suffocating in the corner of a cafe. It doesn’t matter which cafe. They are all the same after a while. Nameless shacks of debauchery and gluttonous, wanton acts. Houses of so-help-me-God-I-will-eat-that-muffin-or-die. I choke down a grilled cheese and guilt. At the bottom of my leek and potato soup I find my sorrow, not my family. The pattern swirled on my mocha will swish through my ex-laxed insides mocking me. The sweetness it lends to my bitter desperation will not last past the first sip. I will drink it anyway

The hustle-bustle-here-is-your-carrot-cake-nonsense from the waitress is lost in my deafening isolation. The carrot cake and I stare back at each other begrudgingly. I already know how it will feel as it comes back up. The curdling, cream cheese icing will catch at the back of my throat and destroy my resolve. I am so low, even God will not talk to me.

Oh Lord, I beg. Save me from myself. Have mercy on me.

The mac and cheese answers me instead. It smothers my homesickness for a second but it is fleeting. So fleeting, it is as though I imagined it. I try again. Another mouthful of disappointment to cling to the ribs I can no longer count. It will coat the thick thighs that cannot be loved with a layer of fat and warmth and betrayal. They are unlovable, these thighs of mine. They have betrayed me. Or did I betray them with bread and longing and too much comfort-my-hopeless-heart wine? Steam rises off the mac and cheese, evaporating clouds of remorse. That is all that is left. Jammed into the corner of this kill-me-now-my-life-is-a-joke cafe, I watch it waft out the window. I wish I could follow it into that snowy January sludge like I used to follow my dreams when I thought they were worth a damn.

Free me, dear Jesus, from the despair that eats my soul but does not burn calories, I cry.

I am full of this emptiness. I am overflowing with it. It never ends.

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5 thoughts on “Mac and Cheese and Remorse

  1. littlevoicetalks says:

    I profoundly understand that ’emptiness.’ I call it my ‘void’ and when it’s wide and vast it screams so loud I feel so totally overwhelmed and paralyzed by it, often unable to do anything but attend to it in the way I believe it’s demanding – food/drink/spending/exercise. However, nothing fills it; I am realising that actually the feelings of this void won’t kill me but my actions to shut it up will. I so hear your pain. Keep writing, communicating. Your honesty is so raw and undeniably moving. I hate this illness and what it does to people. Big love xx

  2. beingrescued says:

    “Keep asking, and it will be given to you. Keep searching, and you will find. Keep knocking, and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7 HCSB)
    “Therefore I tell you, all the things you pray and ask for — believe that you have received them, and you will have them.” (Mark 11:24 HCSB)
    Keep asking The Lord for freedom. Have faith in His goodness, and He will answer your prayers for your good and for His glory. 🙂 Stay strong.

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