I nearly opened a packet of crisps at 11 a.m. because what I really wanted was comfort, not crisps

Dear Delyara, I caught it in time. Not because I’m virtuous. Because I’ve started recognising the move. There’s a particular type of morning where one or two practical annoyances, one delayed message, one slightly worrying thought, and the pressure of the rest of the day all gather just enough to make me reach toward something immediate and simple. Not food exactly. Interruption. Softness. A tiny rebellion against the sternness of being an adult. I didn’t eat the crisps. I made tea and stood by the open back door instead. That helped more. I think half of self-knowledge is learning the shape your substitutes take before they fully take over.