HEALING MY RELATIONSHIP WITH FOOD

In an effort to show the journey and not just the end result, I’m going to write about something before I have total clarity on it. Writing often forces me to work through my feelings, and I’m hoping diving into this complicated topic and having to create coherent sentences around it will help me--and you. Because I have a feeling I’m not the only one dealing with this.

Here it goes…I have an unhealthy relationship with food.

For some people, eating multiple times a day isn’t an emotional minefield. But unlike those lucky few, I struggle with the following:

1. Strong distaste for most nutritious food. The idea of eating certain things makes me want to vomit. Every time I see one of those ads for a healthy meal delivery kit I think, how can anyone eat that? Do some people not have taste buds? The sole reason I had to stop being a vegetarian at 21 was because I did not like vegetables enough to have a balanced diet. I then felt guilty for eating meat for over ten years before I finally returned to the lifestyle. (I now like some vegetables, but only if they are prepared in super specific ways.)

2. I think about food all the time. I think this is referred to as “food noise,” which feels apt because it is both annoying and hard to ignore. I historically spend all day thinking about what I am going to eat next and fixating on my “nighttime snacks.”  Which lead me to my next big issue…

3. Food can make me feel out of control. While I am a super disciplined person in all other aspects of my life, I feel like I have no will power when it comes to my nighttime eating. This makes food have a scary sense of power over me because it is unlike every other aspect of my life (like my work, exercise routine or ability to regulate my emotions). I feel dependent on the high and excitement that comes from eating whatever I want even though I am not hungry.

Whenever my psychiatrist would ask me about this nighttime habit, I would try to shrug it off. Sure, it had some of the characteristics of binge-eating disorder but it didn’t really meet the criteria. It wasn’t something I would do alone in the dark and I never lost track of time or what I was eating. I would munch on my nighttime snacks right next to my husband while watching TV and I would stop before it got too out of hand. My behavior didn’t feel like it deserved any clinical diagnosis, but I knew it wasn’t quite right.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with eating simply for the joy of eating rather than nutritional value, but it was starting to get concerning how dependent I felt on these snacks. That I would become exceedingly worried and upset if we didn’t have enough at home to fill my cravings. My days were spent looking forward to the night because at night I got to eat the good stuff. And food was my number one sense of joy.

Much like my daily weed usage, my relationship toward food felt like something I needed to address at some point. When I felt ready. Maybe if I got pregnant or so rich I could hire a private chef.

Then I got a physical. And my doctor told me I had high cholesterol. So high, in fact, that if I wasn’t able to get it down on my own in the next few months, I would have to go on medication for it. We had a follow-up zoom session to discuss some dietary changes, even though it seems I am genetically predisposed to this issue, and she took a very nuanced approach with me. She said to only make changes that are sustainable and to not overdo it. She also advised me to stop eating earlier in the evening since this helps your body metabolize food better and it would likely reduce my acid reflux. (Something I knew but hadn’t been willing to try despite my near daily symptoms.)

Following this phone call, I burst into tears. I felt filled with fear that I was going to have to give up my nighttime snacks. Life didn’t seem to be worth it without them (dramatic I know, but have you tried Trader Joe’s cheese crunchies?). I also wasn’t coming to this change on my own timeline, like I had planned. I was being thrust into it for stupid health reasons, which felt unfair and scary.

My husband listened patiently as I threw a fit. I told him that the only way I was going to be able to change my eating habits was if I knew I could get (non-fat) fro-yo at the end of every day. We would have to buy it in bulk, and I could have as much as I wanted so long as I didn’t add any more snacks and I cut off my eating by around 8 p.m. This compromise felt somewhat doable, and I eventually calmed down.

This breakdown was on February 29^th. So, for the last two months, I have been actively trying to heal my relationship with food. And part of that journey has been giving it such a distinct name. I am not simply trying to lower my cholesterol or reduce my acid reflux. I am trying to form a new relationship toward this huge, unavoidable part of my life. I want to enjoy food—not fear or obsess over it.

In order to accomplish this ACTUALLY REALLY BIG LIFE-CHANGING GOAL, I have tried to do the following:

·      Eat more during the day. My attempt to “be good” so I could “be bad” at night led to that loss of control. Now I try to eat more high protein breakfasts and not deprive myself so I can indulge later.

·      Always have the house stocked with fro-yo so I don’t feel like I have given up too much. I did swap my sprinkles for almonds, though, so it will be more filling.

·      Try to stop eating around 8 p.m. when possible. The “when possible” part is crucial. I don’t go out of my way to make this happen. Some nights my schedule means I eat later than that and that is perfectly fine. Too much rigidity will make this too hard.

·      Be more mindful of saturated fat content for my cholesterol but still letting myself eat cheese because that is an important part of my diet as a vegetarian.

So far, I have been doing pretty well with the adjustment. My husband’s support and encouragement have been positive reinforcement. I also praise myself whenever I get the chance because, like a dog, I respond well to it.

Part of what has helped is not expecting myself to get it right all the time. For example, the other night I really wanted potato chips. So I had potato chips. I know enough about the cycle of denial and binging to know that if I restrict too much, it will backfire. Some days I need to give in to my cravings so they go away instead of getting stronger and stronger the longer I repress them. Plus, I don’t want to get into a mindset of certain foods being evil because that is just another type of unhealthy relationship.

At this point in my journey to--say it with me now--heal my relationship with food, I find myself circling the same three thoughts:

1. I am doing better than I thought I was going to. Maybe breaking the cycle of my undereating during the day so I could have nighttime snacks has allowed me to tap into the will power that I have had such a hard time accessing before.

2. The only way to sustain a difficult change is if it gets less difficult with time. I can’t put up a huge fight every day until I die. But I can put up a huge fight, followed by a medium fight, followed by a small fight, followed by business as usual as I adapt to my new habits.

3. I am freaking terrified that I am not going to be able to sustain these changes.

That last thought is why I was so hesitant to write about all this. What if next week I fall back into my old ways? What if the food noise comes back louder than ever? What if this short period of time is just an anomaly in my story instead of the beginning of a new chapter?

Wouldn’t that make me a fraud???

While my OCD wants to reply, yes and that’s why I told you not to write about this, the more logical part of my brain knows that this ever-present fear proves I still have a way to go with healing my relationship with food. Because even though I have been able to make some changes, I still worry that the food will become too powerful again. That I will lose control.

I still view food as this near-magical entity that can take me away from myself and my goals.

I don’t know when that fear will go away. I don’t know if it ever will. But for right now I am trying to remind myself that if I do slip up it doesn’t mean I am back where I was on February 29^th. Because on February 29^th, I didn’t think our relationship could change at all.

xoxo,

Allison

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