The Quest for Comfort

I have had a week my friends.

It was the kind of week that grinds you into submission so that, by the very end of it, all you can do is lie on your couch for a minimum of 8 hours while eating Nutella straight from the jar. It was the kind of week that sucks all the stores of happy out of your person and replaces them with bile and rage. The kind of week that sees you furiously vacuuming your office on a Saturday just so you can feel like you accomplished something.

I should say that nothing in particular went wrong this week, it was just incredibly stressful. There were meetings for which I felt unprepared, a co-worker on vacation, and a seasonal employee who quit after less than a week. Nothing impossible to handle, but, by the time I crawled into the apartment yesterday with the groceries I was completely out of spoons. There was nary a spoon to be found on my person or in my spoon bank. Hence the 8 hours on the couch eating Nutella.

Needless to say, I’ve felt the need to seek out some comforts this week. I left the complex, intriguing, beautiful book I’ve been reading for the company of an old book-friend. I inflicted hours of Pushing Daisies onto my very understanding housemate (thankfully that went well). I’ve let go of the idea of exercising this week and I’m refusing to let myself feel guilty over that (and I’m almost having success). But, perhaps most significantly, I’m finding myself taking comfort in food.

Generally, this indulgence is incredibly dangerous for me. Using food as a reward is a slippery slope that leads to bingeing and shame. I’m still figuring out how to eat without falling into my old bad habits. While every meal no longer feels like a battle for my life I have little relapses every week or so (and, if I’m in a particularly difficult spot, about once a day). Believe me when I say that I don’t take comfort food lightly. I take my time, choose carefully, and let myself really revel in my chosen treat.

Today, that treat was a bagel.

Not just any bagel, my favorite breakfast from my life in Berkshire county.

In the couple of months I’ve been in Burlington I’ve tried a couple different bagel shops, but have yet to find a breakfast that will rival the one I used to get at the Great Barrington Bagel Shop. It was a little slice of NYC in south county, an honest to god Jewish deli, and their bagels were to die for. To. Die. For. It was the highlight of my day every time I got breakfast there (which, to be perfectly honest, was almost every day for a couple of years). Needless to say, I miss the bagel shop. A lot.

I tried a new place today, hoping that I might have more success this time around. I didn’t. I’m trying to get used to the local bagels, trying to see what people think is wonderful about them, but it’s just not scratching that bagel itch. Some are too doughy, others too dry, and still others lacking textural diversity. I’m beginning to wonder if I might just have to figure out how to make my own. What else can you do when you’re searching for comfort (food) and you keep falling short? If you can’t find it from an external source you just have to put your big girl panties on and do it yourself.