The time I ate anything and everything I (truly) wanted

Some people will read this and say “duh” but for me, this knowledge was like KaZaam!

I'm 34 (that is important for perspective's sake). I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I have theories as to how this developed but I won't go into them here. Just know that by the time I was 11, I began to engage in an eating disorder that would last for nearly 5 years. Knowing what I know now about electrolytes and remembering what my heart was doing at the time, I wonder how close I came to a heart attack. The eating disorder was simply the apex of a sick foundation. Even after the binge, purge, starve cycle behavior concluded I still maintained some crazy-@$$ relationship with food. 

Here are a few examples: (some of you will relate)

I would make decisions to go or not go places based on what food would or would not be available.

I would still binge to satisfy emotional needs, while leaving out the purging portion. (Hello weight gain.)

At social gatherings I would literally hover around the food. Like a lifeboat.

I felt that I HAD to eat something if it was available.

I firmly believed that if I was thin, life would go well for me and I would be happy.

My ENTIRE day could be ruined by a single slice of pizza. Literally.

I held to an irrational fear that this unique edible opportunity (like a Snickers) would never present itself again and must be taken advantage of NOW or I would miss out on something amazing (like a Snickers).

I set crazy rules about what to eat, when to eat, how to eat. Feeling immense guilt for failing to follow the rules.

I kept a pair of size 4 cut off jeans for years...I had a goal of fitting into them. I would hold them up and feel sad that I wasn't quite there yet. Even at my lowest weight of 98 pounds, I didn't fit into them! (Differing body types.) It was a source of shame and failure until I finally threw them out.

If I try to diet I can go crazy. From obsessing about food to dreaming about it to allowing my moods to be determined by my “success” to starting to rehash the same thoughts that are precursors to the binge and purge cycle.

And most recently, whenever I was out driving by myself I had to get a “treat”. It began as an exciting rarity (wasn't out by myself too much over the past decade) but turned into this MUST-GET-A-TREAT – go-out-of-my-way-show-up-late-because-i-MUST-get-myself-a-treat monster.

Anyhow, you probably get the picture. Then something happened.

Several months ago (Fall 2016) I was making the kids lunch. A little frustrated, a lot of contemplative, I had the idea that maybe I need to go back to the beginning. Kind of like how a type of regression therapy is used for Reactive Attachment Disorders (it is controversial, I am not advocating for or against it).

What is the beginning of food? Milk. Well, drinking only milk wasn't going to happen. What's next? Being a toddler. What do toddlers do with food? They eat what they want, when they want and how much they want. I would become a toddler.

I pondered on this brainstorm for two days, looking for flaws, thinking it through. I set up one rule but only one because food rules is one of my unhealth-food-behavior triggers (see above). I decided to only eat what I wanted.

I don't know if people with health relationships with food can even possibly conceive of how phenomenal and monumental this idea was to me.

The magic of this experiment was that all food was given a level playing field. A taco held no more desirability than a carrot stick because I could have either whenever I wanted. A carrot stick held no more value than a taco because I was not making food decisions based on nutrition. Desire was my only criteria. Want my only yardstick. When I stripped food of its power over me, I saw it as it really is. Raw and naked and powerless in its original form.

I haven't learned so much about myself in a very long time.

I realized that a lot of the time I ate because I was “supposed to”.

I ate breakfast because it was good for me, even if I wasn't hungry. I ate when someone offered me something, to be courteous, even if I didn't want it. I learned that I really don't get hungry until about 10am. So shoot me.

I realized that I don't love sweets.

In our society sweets are a treat. We give them as rewards (toddlers going potty) and gifts (Teacher Appreciation Day), to show affection (Valentine's Day), bring comfort (ice cream for a sad friend). But when I made all the candy around me available, free for the taking and no longer bad or a guilty pleasure...I almost never wanted it.

I don't always know what I want.

Particularly for the first 10 days I often went hungry – I simply did not know what I wanted. I would recognize I was hungry, stand in my kitchen, ask myself “what do I want?” and not know. Here's a funny story about learning to assess want. Around day 3 I thought I wanted a candy. So I opened a KitKat bar. I ate the first, really trying to taste it and ask myself if it was hitting the spot. It wasn't. But somewhere in my head I couldn't believe that. So I ate the second bar. Nope. Didn't taste right. How could a KitKat NOT be the treat solution?! It was unheard of. I was in denial and ate the third. The flavor was all wrong! I couldn't believe it but it was true. So I put the 4^th bar away. An hour later I thought, “Hm, I think a KitKat is what I want now,” I ate the last bar and it was like a symphony on my tongue. No kidding.

Bite 10 can be amazing and bite 11 nearly repulsive.

I was working on some pasta, enjoying my lunch when suddenly I no longer desired it. “But! But! It is a waste to leave the last few bites! I can just finish it off!” So I took another nibble and gained no pleasure from it. As I pondered over this I realized that my body was telling me “I AM FULL! STOP!” I have spent decades ignoring that voice. When I dedicated myself to only eating what I wanted, I learned that my body can and will tell me when I have had enough...and it isn't when my plate is empty.

Sometimes I wasn't hungry, I was thirsty.

I drink a lot of water so I didn't think this phenomenon would apply to me, but since we aren't camels the human body can become dehydrated pretty quickly.

I life fruit.

But good fruit. It must be ripe. Nothing beats a perfect peach.

I like good food.

Quality food. Rich food. Cream and butter are my friends. I can enjoy almost any food if it is well prepared. Boxed food is 'food-like product' to me and did not taste right in my mouth.

In an emotionally stressful state, food was almost never the answer.

I recall one distinct phone conversation that resulted in feelings of stress and distress. I started looking around the kitchen for a fix. I stopped and reviewed all the sugary carby fatty offerings. I imagined myself biting into each option. I processed how I would feel afterward (to determine which one I really wanted) and realized (with somewhat of a shock) that they were not the solution to my problem. Maybe just distractions? Food would not make my problems go away. In all my years I don't think I have ever before really walked myself through this reality. I just ate when stressed.

I see now that my body can live well on far fewer calories than I thought it needed.

And I'll tell you because I'm sure you're wondering...Though I gained much of value from this experiment, I did not gain a single pound over the 6 weeks. That's right. I literally ate anything and everything I wanted, but ONLY what I REALLY wanted, and I gained no weight.

So maybe, maybe. If we listen. Really really listen. Our bodies can tell us what we need, what we desire, what will make us feel good, what it needs to keep functioning. If we really listen. Before you take your next bite give it a try. Stop and ask yourself, “Do I really want this?”

update

As an update for the blogging world of invisible viewers, Katie did get to go on her sleepover. The night she was sick I gave her the meds, she perked up after and hour, ate some food, fought with Joel and drank more liquid. I also rubbed garlic oil onto the soles of her feet since there is now way in Hades I could get her to swallow the stuff.

Sometimes I think she gets sick when she is worn out. We have been a little busy lately and I think her body just needed a good rest. Which she got that night. Thank you for your expressions of concern. I'm sure she's driving her aunt crazy at the sleepover.

don't be sick!

We have a busy day planned tomorrow. To top it off, Katherine might finally get to have the sleepover with her cousin she's been coveting since who knows when. And what does she do today? Go and get sick!!! UGH!

So in my true-to-my-nature way, I try to deny it. But her temp of 100.6 doesn't lie. Nor do the facts that she a) took a nap, b) cried when her brother hit her instead of yelling at him first, c) complained of a headache, d) told me she wanted to eat but was not hungry and e) spent the entire evening lying down. Boo.

I monitored the sickling for a while and she didn't get worse. Finally I gave her some medicine to help with the tempature. Based on my limited experience of Katherine being sick, this kind of owie burns up fast and she acts pretty normal when the temp is down. My hope was she'd eat if she felt better. Sure enough, that is basically what happened. Hopefully she'll be recovered in the morning. But even it takes longer I'll be grateful, so long as she does get better.

stitches

Well, it finally happened and of course it was my boy. Joel got stitches. Only three and that's good because I don't care what the doctor tried to lie about, poor boy felt that second one.

All last week I wanted to add "doctor" or "nurse" as a post label since all homemakers inevitable take on such roles. I wouldn't let myself since I had nothing interesting to post. I kept thinking, "Life provides." And it sure did.

We're rushing out the door to take Katie to preschool. She reenters to get a coat (she doesn't need) and smacks my little man in the face with the door. And split goes his lip. It's on the upper right side and looked deeeeeep. This being my first big lip split I call the doctor's office to see if he needs to come in. I should say that I hate doing that because my theory is they will tell you to come in no matter what just to charge the insurance company. But anyhow.... due to his age they want me to come in to make sure it will heal correctly. [big huff] "Fine." We drop off Katie. The bleeding has stopped. We head to the doctor. Diaper bag on one shoulder, Clare in her car seat in one hand and Joel in the other arm. All I could think was, "If anyone needs a close parking spot, it's me."

After speaking with the doc I'm convinced that we did need to come in or his lip would have healed and looked all funky. "But boys like scars, don't they?" "He won't like it." Fine. What does Joel need? Stitches. My poor, brave, tough, scared little man. He tried so hard and did so well but he was so scared. He shook and said, "Done! Done!" Many times. I watched the numbing stuff spill out is cut and finally got to see how docs sew people up. Afterword, Joel picked a puppy out of the "ouch basket" but all I wanted to do was hold him. All he wanted was a sticker on the way out. At least he recovers quickly.