Losing the Fear of Eating
I still have to ask myself: have I really? Have I lost the fear of eating real food?
For some people, this post will sound so foreign that I hope they won't even bother reading it. But for those who know what I'm talking about, this could be life-saving.
I was a chubby kid. Whose fault it was, I don't know, but all the sweets we ever had in the house, I ate them. Then I ate more that I bought with my pocket money. I may have already had some dairy intolerance or digestive issues. Childhood wasn't a walk in paradise! As a teen, I piled on the pounds from way too many rum and coke drinks and late-night food binges. It wasn't until I left home at 18 and started living alone in London that I noticed debilitating stomach aches that would prevent me from walking up straight. Mostly constipated, I wondered if that was just trapped gas… I began going to the gym and eating healthier, because it just made me feel better and improved some of my symptoms. However, once I started dating, nerves coupled with the 'triggering foods' would literally have me stay in crouched in pain, unable to go out, or send me to the bathroom to be sick, or sit on the throne for a while. My then-boyfriend drove me to an emergency room on my first day of a vocational course that I was panicking about. The diagnosis was simple. It is IBS. And nobody knows how exactly it happens or how to cure it, only how to somewhat manage the painful symptoms. A low-FODMAP diet could help, but it meant obsessively monitoring what I ate; plus, other environmental factors and stress could put my colon into a washing machine regardless of what I ate. I was 21. Unexpected diarrhea or bloating weren't fashionable even in the early 2000s.
I started dreading food then. It seemed like the only thing I could control. So somewhere around the age of 23, I began to vomit after eating, you know, as a prevention of possible intestinal complications… Plus, my paycheck depended on looking like a perfect hourglass model, who couldn't afford to look 6 months pregnant! The bloating was nevertheless a constant issue.
I resolved some of that by letting myself go around 25. No more bulimia, just getting chubby again, and not caring what anyone thought. That reckless attitude worked sometimes. But I decided to continue my higher education, and all the pressure during my Bachelors gave me not one painful IBS bout but numerous bouts during my studies. I couldn't live without Buscopan medication. I had to use it up to 4-6 times a year to relax my colon when it got out of control. Throughout the years, the bouts got less frequent, maybe 3 per year. I now don’t think it was due to the countless diets I tried, and all the yo-yo effects. But I definitely learned to recognize the patterns. Too much stress in my life, my anxious-avoidant attachment style in relationships being triggered, feeling somehow inadequate, and then the obvious bad guys: too much coffee, too much wine, too many legumes, too many foods from FODMAPs, and dairy - but! A big "but" here: if I felt happy and relaxed, I could have tolerated even a full plate of pasta with cheese and a bottle of wine, and been just fine… So the environmental factors played a massive part.
Two years ago at 37, I faced a romantic disappointment, and my stomach and colon went on strike for 4 days. After one big dinner with wine, I went to bed fuller than I should have, and woke up with the familiar intermittent spinning and squeezing of my gut. I was so miserable. Buscopan did nothing! I had the worst pains of my life, and I was petsitting in Mexico. My friend who dined me and wined me the night before the IBS attack probably felt worse than me, but it wasn't his fault. I mean, had it happened at any other season of my life, I would have been absolutely fine. But being post-breakup, dealing with fresh and still unprocessed grief, and then on high alert because I was supposed to entertain him as my visitor, somehow served as the perfect recipe for a strong IBS bout.
I believe I've had only one small attack since. It was connected to all the above again, except with different people and foods. Now I also know that pumpkin is a little devil. I threw away all Buscopan and put on more meditation, deliberate slow breath work, and rest whenever I needed to. Interestingly, I am now post-breakup again and no IBS on the horizon… that is a beautiful sign. I took my time to process this one, so my gut doesn't have to.
We must pay attention to how we digest…and what we digest. Emotions are vital to functioning well in society, and we need to be able to digest them properly, too. Unless you are a sociopath, you don't have this need, and your impermeable shield across your heart blocks out all noise. But for us, sensitive empaths, it is constant digestive distress. Intermittent fasting, nearly daily, from somewhere between 4-6pm to 8-9am really works for me. My digestive tract takes a break to repair and relieve me from working in overdrive.
So, I think I once upon a time had a good reason to be afraid of food… worrying about putting on weight, feeling bloated, or having a downright painful IBS attack. But these days I know that my value isn’t tied to my weight, my appearance, relationship status, and hell, not even to my bank account. But I still put well-being high on my priority list, and feeling good after eating is a part of it. I now enjoy everything; nothing is on my banned food list except actual non-foods. I don't like refined sugar, oils, pesticides, hidden microplastics, or artificial flavors. Anything else that is grown or raised naturally is welcome on my plate, but not every day, and not all at once. I now ask myself what I feel like and use what I've learned to come up with a balanced meal. Yes, I still have tendencies to overeat when tired or emotional, but if I stick to: Protein first, then I allow myself some carby, fatty treat later - why not!