In Relation to Food

 

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. 

I finally grew weary of feeling tired and having no energy and hating myself for the way I looked and felt.  I joined a weight-loss program and in around a year and a half, I lost 53 pounds and was finally back to a healthy weight.  Yet, I felt horrible!  I loved the way I looked, but I still had worsening symptoms that eventually led to me being diagnosed with Celiac Disease.  Before that diagnosis I was suffering from severe anxiety, chronic fatigue, almost constant upset stomach, bloating, aching joints and eventually, hives and periodic anaphylactic reactions.  For around three years my doctor worked to find a correct diagnosis and treatment but nothing was working.  I became afraid of food.  I didn’t know what was causing me to have these reactions and so all food became the enemy.  I began keeping a food diary to try to track when my symptoms would appear.  There didn’t seem to be any connection. 

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.