I Ate Standing Up Again

Dear Delyara, A few bites in the kitchen while putting plates away, checking on dinner, listening to one child talk from the hallway and answering a question from upstairs. By the time I noticed I was eating, I was already half finished and nowhere near seated properly enough to call it a meal. That made me feel suddenly sad. Not because dinner was bad. Because I keep meeting my own needs in fragments. Standing up. In between. Later. Quickly. Whatever is easiest for the system. I know many women live like this. Still, sometimes when I catch myself doing it, the quietness of that self-neglect lands in me like grief.