Today, the food I eat provides me with sustenance, health, energy, and vitality. As well as pleasure and enjoyment.
But when I was in the midst of my disordered relationship with food, I made it mean all sorts of things.
Food was my
~best friend
~entertainment
~comfort
~safety net
~consolation.
When I felt like I didn’t belong, food was a comforting friend. I could count on food to be there when I had decided I couldn’t count on or trust anyone, including myself.
When I didn’t know what to do with myself, food was there to keep me company and entertained.
When I thought I couldn’t handle life, food was my escape. What I believed I couldn’t handle were my feelings on separateness, loneliness, sadness, and anger.
When I was upset in some way, food was there.
Food was my safety net. I would imagine that I was on a high wire or at the top of a trapeze. Food was the net below, the springy surface from which I could safely spring back. It would catch me when I fell or stumbled.
But here’s the thing: food is food. It is inanimate and inert. It doesn’t have special powers. It couldn’t “save” me.
Food could not and cannot keep me safe. It cannot protect me from real danger, nor can it protect me from perceived danger. It could only keep me numb from my feelings.
Food could not and cannot be my friend and companion. Yes, it can make me feel better… for about two minutes. But it doesn’t care how I’m feeling. And when that very short period of comfort evaporates, I still have to deal with whatever I’ve been avoiding – usually my feelings.
Instead, my relationship with food made things worse. In addition to not examining my sadness, anger, loneliness, and separateness, I misused food and loathed myself for it. I felt remorse, shame, and guilt over what I’d done. So my problems were simply compounded.
This disordered relationship was decades in the making.
It’s taken more than a hot minute to turn it around.
I work daily to change that dynamic.
The change is not linear at all. It’s circular at times, spiky at other times.
Here is how I’ve done this:
I have read research on the effects of sugar and flour on my body, specifically my hormones, insulin being the predominant one. I understand that too much sugar in my body results in high levels of insulin. High levels of insulin make me a sugar burner, not a fat burner. So, for the most part, I don’t eat sugar and flour.
However, I don’t believe in deprivation, so I plan joy foods, which usually contain some sugar and/or flour.
I plan all of my meals ahead of time. I make sure I include lots of vegetables, fruit, full fat, and healthy sources of protein, like beans and pastured eggs, as well as healthy sources of animal protein.
I eat when I’m hungry and stop when I am lightly full.
I drink a lot of water.
I move my body. I lift weights, walk a lot, and stretch even more.
And more importantly, I hold compassionate space for myself.
In this space, I can question myself without judgment. I can examine and watch myself with curiosity and loving kindness.
I can ask myself why over and over to gain clarity about what I think and believe, what I feel and why, as well as my actions.
I don’t do any of this perfectly. Not at all.
But I do it consistently.
I get to decide what I want to be, believe, and do.
I get to live my life as fully as possible.
Every. Single. Day.