My Confusing Relationship with Food

This isn’t a story about dieting, though dieting is definitely a part of this story. Neither is it a story about weight gain or weight loss, though both are major parts of this story.

No, this story is about a relationship with food that I feel a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and frustration about. I don’t think I’m alone in having a relationship like this with food, but like it is with so many other things, it sometimes feels like I’m alone.

Food brings people together.

Food is an important ritual. In Judaism, Passover is a special meal shared by families to remember the story of the Exodus — the time when the Israelites escaped from slavery in Egypt. In Christianity, the eucharist, or communion, is a re-enactment of this traditional celebratory meal shared between Jesus and his closest friends and students which turned out to be his last. In Islam, there is a traditional feast at Eid al-Fitr to celebrate the end of fasting during Ramadan. At Diwali, Hindu celebrations of the New Year include feasting on sweets. Wiccan circles and other Neo-Pagan gatherings often center on a ritual meal and culminate in a feast.

Funerals, weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries all often include the sharing of food around which people gather and visit. People have picnics and cookouts at the summer holidays and large family meals during the winter. Food is so much more than sustenance.

Food is life. Food is necessary, but food can also be an addiction. Food affects our mood, our health, and our attitude about ourselves.

Food is a struggle for me; I want to enjoy my food and the times when it brings me together with my loved ones. I also want to enjoy my food when I’m alone. The struggle is that while I am enjoying my food, I have to be careful that I don’t enjoy it too much.

I eat when I’m hungry. I eat when I’m not hungry, just because. I eat when I’m in need of comfort, and when that happens, I don’t really care about the consequences.

Yet I do really care about the consequences.

So I become depressed because I gave in to an inexplicable drive for comfort food.

Usually, I eat pretty healthy, even when I’m overeating.

It took me years to lose the weight I had gained from a combination of hypothyroid, stress and anxiety, bad food choices, and a full schedule that made it almost impossible to stay on a beneficial diet.

It took my children growing up, a supportive spouse, semi-retirement, a new hip, weight-loss medication, an exercise routine I could stick to, and good food choices.

Part of that is allowing myself to have a little bit of the “not so good” foods once in a while.

Sometimes, though, I find myself craving more of the “not so good” foods and giving in to those cravings. No matter what I do, I just eat.

I’ll go for a walk, drink water, remind myself I’m not actually hungry, or remind myself that I do not want to gain back the weight and that I still have a few pounds to go to achieve my goal weight. I’ll tell myself I’ve come off some medications I was on because of obesity, and I don’t want to go back on them.

And still, I’ll eat.

I’m going through this right now and am hoping it passes soon. If it doesn’t, I think I’ll pick up the phone and call my counselor.

Maybe there’s something in my subconscious I’m trying to eat away.

Or maybe, I just love food too much.