Late at night when the house is quiet is when I miss my cat the most. She’d skulk out of the near darkness and climb into my lap or unto my shoulder in hopes I would settle soon, so she could curl up on me and go back to sleep. I would listen to her purr and my mind would relax to the point I could harvest new ideas. Part of the change–this shift away from coaching–is a recognition of how much has really changed in my late night routine.
Without kitty I’ve begun to fill that uncomfortable silence with the chomp chomp of potato chips. It is grief eating more than stress eating. By any name it is a behavior that is likely to hurt my health.