I’ve been thinking about food a lot the last few days. Okay, let’s face it…I think about food a lot – every day! But seriously, I came to the realization that I’ve had a very dysfunctional relationship with food for the majority of my adult life.
It began when I was 20 and in
an abusive marriage. My husband at the
time, demanded perfection. He used food
as a punishment, a way to control me.
Every day of our married life he let me know I was overweight and
inadequate in every possible way. I
weighed 110 pounds when we got married. By
Thanksgiving, nearly 3 months after our wedding, I was almost 9 weeks pregnant
and weighed all of 97 pounds because of him limiting my food consumption. In front of some of my co-workers, he angrily
told me that I was, “fat, hideous and repulsive.” A few days later, I miscarried the baby that
I hadn’t even told my husband that I was carrying. I didn’t realize until over 20years later
that because of how malnourished and thin I was, I already had a small baby
bump that early in my pregnancy which, I’m sure, added to his thoughts that I
was fat.
When that marriage ended, I
briefly dated a couple of really great guys – who just happened to all be cooks
by trade. Hmmmm. The man I ended up marrying was a chef. I didn’t consciously seek out men who cook,
but you can’t tell me there wasn’t something under the surface that found that
appealing.
About 6 or 7 months after my
second husband and I got married, I had gained some weight and was now up to
115 pounds. I was actually at a healthy
weight and was beginning to look healthy, too, yet I was horrified! I was so afraid that my new husband was going
to leave me because I was fat. I
struggled through our entire marriage with negative body image and my
relationship with food was love/hate. I
loved food, but hated that I had gained weight.
I felt ugly and fat and my first husband’s words continued to taunt me
no matter how much my second husband tried to reassure me that I looked good
and that he thought I was beautiful.
A little less than a month
before our fourth wedding anniversary, my second husband died from an aortic
aneurysm. I was 26 years old and utterly
devastated. My dysfunctional relationship
with food intensified and morphed into something very ugly. I would go days without eating because of my
grief and then I would turn to food as my “drug of choice” to numb my grief.
I’ve never thought of me as
having an eating disorder, but as I look back on it, I can see that I really
did. Not anything that I’ve ever heard a
label for, but still not a healthy relationship with food or my mental health
at all.
Over the years my weight would
balloon up to 186 pounds at my heaviest.
I sought comfort in food when I was sad or angry. I would use food to celebrate or fill a void
when I was bored. I am definitely an
emotional eater. I would diet
periodically, lose weight, just to feel empty and still inadequate, so I would
turn back to my unhealthy eating habits.
Then I learned that I had hypothyroidism,
which makes it difficult for me to lose weight, among many other symptoms. So, I had a built-in excuse for not losing
weight without taking any responsibility for my own unhealthy choices and without
changing my eating habits.
Then I had an anaphylactic
reaction so severe that I nearly died in the ambulance on the way to the
hospital. This led to my Celiac diagnosis. Thus, my dysfunctional relationship with food
took an unexpected turn. When I was
finally diagnosed with Celiac Disease, I had no idea what gluten was or what
foods contained it. I had to do the
research on it myself. I lost weight initially
because I wasn’t eating much. My anxiety
was unbearably high. The first year post
diagnosis was such a struggle as I learned by trial and error. Eating became a chore. I had to eat to live, but it took a while to
figure out what was safe for me to eat.
It was daunting and felt hopeless at times.
Once I finally figured things
out, I went on the hunt for gluten free “replacements” for many of the foods
that I’d had to give up for the rest of my life. Most of the gluten free replacements were
very unhealthy. I felt deprived, so I
wanted to fill that void – with more food.
Because of the nature of my
disease, I have to think about food. I
have to constantly be on my guard to make sure that I don’t ingest gluten in
any form. It means that participating in
special things such as events at work that include a meal, when a co-worker
brings treats in for the office, wedding receptions, any kind of gathering where
food is present can be difficult and awkward.
Even just getting together with family can be stressful because they can
have all of this wonderful and delicious food and I’m stuck with a very
limiting diet. Most of the time, I’m ok
with it and I’ve gotten used to it over the past 9 plus years. Once in a while, though, it gets to me and
makes me feel left out and separate from the rest. It can honestly make me angry that I have
this damn disease. Again, it is my own
personal, difficult relationship with food.
The dysfunction is just different than it was before this diagnosis.
What is the answer? I wish I knew. I am working to have a better relationship
with food. It is difficult, when you
have to constantly be on your guard concerning food, to not let it consume
you. It can feel quite overwhelming at
times. The best I can do, the best
anyone can do, is take it one day, one meal at a time. I hope to one day have a healthy relationship
with food. That is the goal. I know a big part of that is having a healthy
relationship with my body image and learning to accept myself.
I am nothing, if not a work in
progress.