Unwrapping Food

I write about food on here frequently, but I rarely talk about my relationship with food. Like many people, mine is dynamic and I'm working on peeling back the layers to better understand that relationship. I often feel like food is an aspect of my life that I'm blindly figuring out, yet I know it has such a direct impact on my health and everyday life. I feel like figuring all that out will help me find a better balance.

For as long as I remember, food has been my enemy. This isn't in an eating disorder way, instead, food and I don't agree. As a child, apparently I couldn't be taken out of the house until I was like 2 years old because I was a projectile vomiter, Exorcist-style. I was born with a dairy allergy and I don't think I ever grew out of it. Like any kid, I loved sweets, candy and ice cream but all of this made me feel sick. I hated pizza, something no one could understand, and it was because of how sick and uncomfortable it made me feel. I didn't know this was abnormal; I thought everyone felt this way after they ate. 

Around age 10, my relationship and identity with food took another turn. A direct family member decided I only should eat salads for lunch and told me I was getting fat. I was only allowed to eat the amount and types of food they determined were okay. Again, I didn't know this was abnormal; I thought everyone went through this. So on top of food not making me feel good, I felt like it was naughty.

At 16, I was diagnosed with crohn's disease and spent the next ~10 years off and on prednisone fiarly regularly. I fluctuated from underweight to the steroid moonface. Another defining moment was when that same person told me that I was so fat that I was starting to embarrass the family. 

Above left: I'm the middle kid. This is about the age when I was told I needed to eat salads and learn to hold my stomach in at all times because I was getting fat. Above center and right: Junior year in high school and around the time I was told I was an embarrassment to be seen with because I was so fat. I think I probably weigh about the same today as I did then.

By 23, I was diagnosed with celiacs disease and since then a whole host of other autoimmune conditions and food allergies. Eating feels like walking through a minefield. Will it make me feel good or will it leave me feeling awful, sick and lethargic? Mix that with the ingrained belief that not eating is the best option and my relationship with food is a bit dynamic on a good day and a near nightmarish challenge on a bad day. I've never had a true eating disorder or had my own personal motivations/demons to be the skinniest person in the room; instead, I kept getting told by an outside source that my goals should be to be the skinniest version of me possible.

And I've been the skinniest version of me. Typically, it occurs when I'm having a flare-up, running a low-grade fever for weeks and/or not being able to eat much. I've been at points in my life where I've had to work to gain weight. And guess what, I didn't like it. I had no energy and I didn't feel good. I have no desire to be that person. Yet when I've been there, I get told I have the most amazing arms ever and I should work to try and keep those. All these inputs somehow get scrambled and leave me confused about how to make good food choices. Or make choices that don't leave me feeling guilty.

For me, my aim is to be the strongest version of me, definitely not the skinniest. I want the version of me that has energy to tackle the day, feels good after I eat something (without pain or regret) and moves on to the next thing. Coming to Belgium has helped a lot. Over the past five years, I've taken the time to prioritize enjoying nice meals and sipping good drinks. I deal with the flares and I haven't gained any real weight, despite the fact that I let myself eat all the foods I was raised to think were off-limits and bad. I do try to avoid my food allergies and prioritize keeping my crohn's calm above basically everything else.

Do I have it all figured out? No. Do I have a tendency to always think I should eat as little as possible? Yes. But I'm slowing shedding that part of me. I still battle the voice in my head that tells me I shouldn't eat or that less is always better. Living in Belgium has helped immensely and I'm slowly getting to the point where simply feeding myself healthy, real food when my body is hungry and indulging occasionally are what guide me. That and just being happy. Above all, I just want a relationship with food that is calm.

Reconnecting with Me

I really think I went a little off the deep-end last week when it came to control. I realize that we never have complete and real control over our lives but I felt it even more astutely over the past week or two. I turned that chaotic feeling inward and really tried to hold myself to standards that were downright stupid.

I had my foot surgery seven weeks ago today. At this point, I can walk probably seven kilometers without any problems, I can comfortable get my foot into three different pairs of shoes and my pain is relatively low. That is major progress but instead of appreciating and rewarding myself, I decided it was time to put things into high gear in regards to pain and discomfort. 

I tried not to eat any carbs, eat as little overall as possible and even had the desire to go for two workouts a day (fortunately I simply ran out of time or never could rally myself to go do it now that it's cold and rainy in Gent). I managed to stick to this for nearly two weeks. And guess what showed on the scale? Absolutely zero progress. And that really drove me nuts and made me feel pretty bad about myself.

Instead of doubling (quadrupling?) my efforts, I decided to take a step back and reassess. I don't think I comprehended all the pressure I've put on my body these past two months with surgery, anesthesia and recovery. I've been going to physical therapy every.single.day. It hasn't been easy and I haven't been lazy. In the past two+ week, I went to Asia twice: Japan and then China. When I start looking at it through someone else's eye, I can totally understand why despite my best efforts, my body was holding on to every ounce. It is in total survival mode; it no longer remembers what normal looks and feels like.

So these past few days, I've been kinder. I've eaten some carbs, I drank some wine, I didn't feel guilty when I failed to do yoga. I tried to focus on simply making health choices: move in a way that brings enjoyment every day, eat wholesome, healthy foods, and have compassion and empathy for myself. And the strangest desire started happening. I started to crave to move more. Not for calorie reasons but to reconnect with my body. I got excited to lift weights (I haven't in months and months due to the feet) or go for a swim. Nothing strenuous, more spending time with me. And I decided the weight is what it is. If I keep moving and eating well, the surgery weight will come off when it is ready. And I'm okay with that.

Feeling Frustrated and too self absorbed

I haven't posted much this week despite aiming to do it every.single.day. I couldn't exactly put my finger on the reason. I've been super stressed about work this week, which definitely hasn't helped but I don't think that is specifically the cause. 

A lot of the reason is juggling life. In addition to work being full gas, I had to submit a massive binder worth of documents into the Belgian government yesterday. It took a month worth of daily effort, working (and paying a very pretty penny) to a Belgian bookkeeper and simply persevering through a language I'm far from fluent in. And at the end of all of this, I have no idea if they'll extend my visa. I hope they will, I believe they will, but really I have no idea. Also, I don't know how long it'll take them to get me an answer. My current visa expires in February so hopefully, I'll have an answer before time gets tight.

Then there are a lot of little things adding up -- one that stands out is trying to figure out Obamacare for next year (I've loved the Belgian system and now with Trump president, who knows if Obamacare will even exist, especially for those of us with pre-existing conditions). I feel fortunate I have an alternative but I would love to stop spending $500 a month for a US insurance that I don't really use. The only reason I do it is I'm terrified I'll get really hurt or sick and need to go back to the States. Wish I had a crystal ball which could tell me what was the right decision.

And the last stress might just be the most vapid and vain and it's the biggest one. I've been basically obsessed with losing my surgery weight. I'm not eating carbs, trying to eat as little as possible, drinking a ton of water, walking all.day.long, lifting, doing yoga, etc.etc.etc. It isn't budging. I head to Hawaii in a little over 10 days and I would like to feel more confident about myself. Sadly, I bought bathing suits months ago that I don't think are going to get worn. And I don't know what else I can. 

I know my weight fluctuation isn't huge and I'm still a fit, healthy woman. I get this shouldn't fall under the "important" column but I'll admit I'm obsessed. And turning into a fairly awful human because of it. Hungry Fitzalan isn't a pretty sight. Hungry, stressed Fitzalan is a full on nightmare.

Maybe I'm so obsessed because I feel like my weight is the one thing I should be able to completely control. Vapid, yes. Frustrating, yes. Is it adding to an overall unhappiness right now? Definitely. Now I just need to figure out how to climb back out of here because it isn't fair to me or any of the other people who have to interact with me.