food

I'm about to click on my 3rd frontline documentary, after watching a movie, and a few episodes of a TV series. I realize that I'm distracting. I just finished a glass of wine and now my brain thinks writing is a good idea. Non-drunk brain thinks writing is a good idea fairly often, but for some reason I just don't seem to do it. Distraction is much more attractive than introspection.

I've noticed a pattern that I have, particularly with food, in that if I retroactively notice that I've been "good" recently, it makes me proud and almost certainly heralds a stretch of time when I am "bad". This guilt feels overwhelming.

Today I didn't want to go to therapy. I was embarrassed that, despite my promises to myself, I had binged and purged at least once a day every day of the week. I miss the beginning of my time in treatment when "behaving" felt so easy.

Food is complicated. We eat for many different reasons. I eat for many different reasons. Food can be accepting or showing love. Cooking can be emotional, connecting, erotic, mechanical, loving. I eat with people for the joy of their company. I eat alone to fuel my body, or to fill an emptiness that I know from the first bite is not one of hunger. Sometimes a beautifully presented plate in a restaurant that contains only a few bites is somehow satisfying despite it's initial appearance as woefully inadequate. Sometimes a huge bowl of food still leaves my stomach feeling empty, and I don't know if it is emotional or physical. Sometimes I eat when I'm hungry. Sometimes I eat when I'm bored. Sometimes I eat when I'm stressed. Sometimes I don't know why I'm eating until after the fact.

As a child I guess food was both a reward and a punishment. Special occasions or good behavior deserved "naughty" food that was special and reserved as a reward. Day to day eating meant that I ate all of the food that I liked, and once I was full I was faced with the prospect of eating the thing I didn't like. And this always lead to disapproval. One particularly memorable dinner was when I had a friend over. I think I must have been somewhere around 6 or 7. I could feel my throat close as soon as I finally put the peas in my mouth, gagging, already afraid I was going to throw up and be so embarrassed in front of everyone I know I didn't throw up then, but I don't remember if I ever finished the peas.

There are times now when I can enjoy eating. There are foods that I feel pleasure about consuming. But a lot of my pleasure still seems tied to this story of guilt. If I eat things that are on my meal plan, things that are generally considered to be "healthy", I feel proud. Maybe I even eat a few extra bites after I realize that I am satiated, because after all I've been so good about eating "good" foods and it tastes good. So I eat a few more bites, and feel justified but still guilty, because now I haven't been listening to my satiety cues. If I eat things that are "bad" foods I either try to justify it ("I haven't eaten much today") or I tell myself that I'm going to do it anyway and just go for it.

I'm tired of feeling guilty about food. About how much I make, about how much I eat. Even when I enjoy it, I'm still feeling pride or guilt over some aspect of the meal.

What would it be like to see things differently? To not identify myself as an eating disorder, or even as having an eating disorder. What if I started seeing myself as a scientist, as an experimenter, who is playing with food? I'm trying to come at this with fresh eyes, to try and find the combinations of foods and portions that actively bring me joy. To not just be mindful of my food, but to find happiness in my meals. I won't hold myself to doing it all the time, because absolutes tend to be ripe for "failure". There is no failure. There is just new knowledge and confirmations or challenges to that knowledge.

For later: reminding myself that I don't have to be perfect