Feeding the Body

Have you ever felt so out of control that you’ll grab on to anything just to regain a sense of it? I once heard that children that have gone through traumatic experiences will hold their poop in and push themselves into constipation as an attempt to have a sense of control over part of their life. I’m not sure if it’s true, but it makes sense to me. I didn’t strive to control what went out – per say – I was more focused on what went in.

I spent my life being the chunky kid. I ate my emotions. I’d like to say it was an attempt at self preservation, out of a fear that if I didn’t maybe they would eat me first. They had been picking at me, after all. Slowly chipping away at me in an attempt to break the shell that I wouldn’t let them out of. I was in a phase of adaptability, craving likability and acceptance and there was no room for the things I felt in that world – at least that’s the conclusion I kept coming to. As a child, I’d sneak food. At various points throughout being a teenager and adult, I would restrict food intake or overeat and then purge.

I remember certain aspects of life as concepts and feelings rather than details. So I remember my parents commenting on the vomit spatter on the toilet, and a tone of anger rather than concern. I can’t be sure what exactly it was but there was a general warning of repercussions for if this sort of thing was found again. This was my cue to do a better job at hiding what I was struggling with. I had gotten pretty good at adapting and fitting in as long as I knew the rules. The rules now included upping my cleaning game.

The truth is, I don’t remember all of the reasons I felt so out of control. I have chunks missing and maybe that’s because I spent so much time at that chipping block. I learn that they come back when I love myself as intensely as I was often found hating myself, though. So that’s what I’ve been trying to do – rewrite all of the parts of my story where I wasn’t giving myself the love and attention that I deserved.

After struggling to have a healthy relationship with food for so long, there were points where I held a lot of fear around the topic. It feels kind of funny to be afraid of something that you need to live. At some of my deepest lows with this, when friends would ask me to go out to eat, I would kick myself into panic mode as I tried to figure out what I would be able to eat without hating myself, how would I pull off not seeming so uncomfortable? I would spend alarming amounts of time searching menus, trying to find something that I could order that wouldn’t raise suspicion but also would let me stay in control.

Often, I’d order something that I considered “bad” and then something healthy as a side. I’d eat the side first, take a bite or two of the entrée, and then make some excuse about how I had a big lunch that day and simply couldn’t finish. “Oh, I should have started with this, guess I’ll have to save it for later!”. For later. At home. Closer to my bathroom. Even the people that I knew would understand what I was going through, I couldn’t bring myself to explain the depth of my struggle to. I had to stay under the radar.

Other times, food became an obsession. I would fixate on how many calories I was consuming, and eating a well balanced diet. I would work out on a consistent schedule, which sounds healthy but when you’re pouring so much time into researching what you’re eating and how you’re working out that it starts taking up your time at work.. you can easily see how it becomes less healthy. I would spend hours calculating calories for potential meals, trying to figure out combinations of what to eat. For me it seems that obsessions can be the dark side to my love of excitement. Everything comes down to finding a healthy balance and not getting carried away with giving too much energy to any single thing.

I knew there was no way that I could keep up long term with any of my approaches to controlling my relationship with food and the more I tried, the more out of control it was feeling. For a while, I became apathetic towards it, numb almost. I would eat because I knew I had to but I didn’t want to, nor did I feel any inclination not to. It just seemed an inconvenience, in the way. I missed the times I liked to cook and would get excited about trying something new but even when I tried to find exciting recipes to try, nothing could ignite my spark. It all just seemed like so much work. I had spent so much time fixated on, obsessing over food, and I didn’t want to give it any more of my energy.

Then, in the same way that people will tell you that you’ll find something the moment you stop looking for it, my spark zapped right back into me when I least expected it. I was sitting at this incredibly endearing man’s table, attentively watching him cook dinner, after a long but fun day of photography and exploring. Everything he made was done so in a very simple way that highlighted the ingredients and was as enjoyable to eat as it was to watch him make. It was the first time I had every watched someone cook so simply though. Salmon, baked with a little bit of butter and lemon. Potatoes, roasted in a cast iron pan – with extra effort to make them crispy. Asparagus chopped into small pieces and sautéed.

I had never seen asparagus chopped like that. This beautiful boy and his act of, what I at the time looked at as, rebellion against these f**king asparagus changed how I looked at cooking. I’ve since learned that it wasn’t even like a new revolutionary way to chop asparagus – other people totally knew about it. I simply hadn’t seen it. I had been limiting my approach to cooking, to everything, to rules that were created by the ideas I’ve seen. If I hadn’t seen it, it couldn’t be done.

No, I’m not quite that arrogant, I don’t mean literally. I mean by me. I was giving myself no room to create, be imaginative. No wonder cooking felt like work when I thought everything had to be done in a way that has been thought up already. Now, I stop deciding what I’m going to make for dinner. I’m about halfway through making before I know what anything is.

Sometimes, I’m a little bit intimidated to cook for other people now. I feel a bit odd in my approach. I feel like maybe I’m not doing it the “right” way and perhaps they’ll notice. I’m reminding myself constantly that the rules I was going by aren’t real – they’re imaginary. I can blend what I want. I can fry what I want. I can shred, chop, or puree whatever I choose and mix it with whatever combination of ingredients I want. Sure, we’ve got some basics to hit like making sure our chicken is fully cooked – but the basics leave so much more room for possibilities than I had been giving myself.

I step into the kitchen and pull out a few ingredients that I know will go together and that I’m in the mood to eat. Then I look around and it’s like the puzzle starts pulling itself together as I see what I have to work with. Zucchini. Shredded zucchini? Yes. *Starts shredding* Shredded zucchini mixed with shredded cheese. Intriguing. What do you think you’re going to do with it? We’ve got pizza dough. I’m not feeling a red sauce with this. *open fridge* Vidalia onion dressing, perfect. Dough. Dressing. Garlic herb seasoning. Shredded zucchini, mozzarella, and parmesan seasoned and sprinkled on top. Loaded with… *searches produce drawer* …fresh spinach, sliced pepperoncini, diced tomatoes, garlic roasted chickpeas, caramelized onions. *Into the oven* It seems like it’s missing something though, what am I missing? *looks around* Oh I think some fig balsamic glazed onions and a parmesan canna-cream sauce would be perfect!

The whole meal took me maybe half an hour from start to finish. It never used to take me less than half an hour to simply decide what I wanted to make or was even in the mood for. Being in the moment and going with the flow without worrying about doing things “right” or how it’s expected has started opening up incredible opportunities and journeys in so many areas of my life now. Perhaps, if you feel like you’re stuck in an area and just can’t seem to get things “right”, you need to step back and take a look at where the standards you’re holding yourself up against are coming from and if they are necessary, beneficial, and realistic.

Your best way of doing things is going to be as unique to you as your fingerprint, or signature. What if you just let go of the expectation and trust yourself to know the best way to approach things?

Much love, until next time.