There’s something very comforting about physical intimacy, not to mention the endorphins that will kick you in the brain. And it’s all well and good when there’s someone you trust to poke around inside you, but it can end in tears when you find yourself in bed with a stranger at 4 a.m., freak out when you realize you don‘t really want to do what you’re about to do, demand he call a cab, and leave him completely blue-balled. Now there are two sad people.
When shit hits the fan it can be compounded to an infinite degree when mum is absent. Mum just knows how to do everything… better. Her comfort, cuddles, attentive nuances, cooking, it’s all just better and try as you might you can’t recreate it when she’s not there. And as my mum likes to remind me via Skype, I’m too far away to be her little girl right now, so I have to be a woman. But I say eff that, I just want my mamma!
As it turns out chicken soup is food for the soul. Come hail or shine, if illness or fatigue or the vengeful hand of God strikes me down you can be guaranteed I’ll be boiling chicken bones on the hob like the diligent yiayia I will one day be.
When you’re lonely and without your real friends, Friends is the perfect substitute — especially that Chandler Bing, he always manages to get a giggle out of me when I’m feeling down. This applies to any other TV show you’re so familiar with that the characters feel like family because you know them so well.
Ice Cream and/ or Chocolate
Comfort food is a no brainer. I always wonder what people who don’t like sweets eat when they’re sad — anyone?
There is nothing so shallow and cathartic than making an unnecessary purchase when you’re down in the dumps. Buyer’s adrenaline will momentarily take you away from the reality of your situation. On the flipside you will also be poorer, which in the long run might be detrimental to your state, especially if what you’re stressed about is money. Despite the pitfalls, I am a huge advocate of sad shopping. As frivolous as it is, having something pretty and new is a really good pick me up.
Look I’m not proud of this and I’m not suggesting you do the same, but the first thing I do when disaster strikes is cross the road to the bodega and buy a pack of cigarettes. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I think it makes me look really broody and sexy in a melancholic, poetic sort of way that romanticizes my failures. Or maybe I’m just an idiot who can’t shake a very unhealthy, reflex association.