“When you no longer believe that eating will save your life when you feel exhausted or overwhelmed or lonely, you will stop. When you believe in yourself more than you believe in food, you will stop using food as if it were your only chance at not falling apart.” ~Geneen Roth
Hazel’s note:
This is not a problem that I have encountered so I have no idea how accurate, or otherwise, the advice is.
I used to eat because I was lonely.
Lunch hour at school would last nine billion years. I'd have no one to sit with—I was spotty and mega bossy, and my hobby was copying pages from anthropology books.
Everyone would put a sweater on the chair next to them, so I'd have to sit further away. Then, just as I'd pick up my fork, they'd up and leave anyway! “Oh well,” I'd think, “If I eat slowly I can make my fries last till the bell goes.”
I switched to packed lunches to avoid the dining hall. But I didn't want to be spotted alone on a windowsill, so I'd eat my sandwiches in a toilet cubicle.
After, I'd feel full, but unsatisfied. And still have time to kill! So I'd go to the dinner hall and buy a meat pie. I felt sad and gross.
The truth was, I didn't know how to be a friend, let alone make one. I was full of resentment toward other kids.
I acted superior but felt inferior. I was needy, or tried to impress them.
I didn't think friendship was something people learned—I thought there was something wrong with me. That I'd be this way forever.
I also hated that I couldn't resist overeating. Since my family was big on brown rice and organic vegetables, I felt guilty for buying junk food.
When I hit my teens, I became body-conscious. I panicked that comfort food would make me fat. I wasn't! But I thought my thighs were big, and clenched my stomach in all day. All day!
I felt too embarrassed to ask anyone—especially my parents—for help. I thought they'd say I was greedy. Or lecture me about eating crap. Or take me to a doctor—humiliating!
I didn't know it was called “emotional eating,” but I was pretty sure it was bad. So I kept quiet.
I thought: “I can fix this myself. I just need the self-discipline to eat less!”
Going on improvised diets made things a whole new level of worse: binge eating, bulimia, and feeling utterly obsessed and depressed about food.
It took seven years before I found a way to recover.
I wish I'd known how to deal with lonely emotional eating in the first place, instead of going off on an eating disorder tangent!
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