It Was Me All Along: A Memoir

by Andie Mitchell

Because, really, how we act when times are just peachy is nothing compared to how we act when times are rotten.

But I realized that I couldn’t knowingly look to food for a way out when it had so clearly led me here. It wasn’t hunger that beckoned me to eat more. It wasn’t my stomach that needed to be reconciled. It was shame. It was guilt. And food can’t remedy such things.

I want to quit, I want to quit, I want to quit. And when I’m done quitting, I’d like to quit again. I plodded on, determined

Another plate wouldn’t have brought me any greater satisfaction, because contentment doesn’t double by the serving.

I will always know that the grass, though it seems emerald and glowing in that field on the other side—it isn’t. Flowers grow here. They grow over there. Weeds do, too.