For the past few years, my relationship with food has been one of fear, anxiety, and dread. Meals were dreaded parts of the day and I solely saw food as a means of making me fat. Of making me unworthy, ugly, fat, less-than. Through my recovery, I have learned to find the beauty and joy of creating and eating food. I have learned to view food as an art, a source of connection, an experience of satisfaction. I have learned to slowly make peace with food.
In my disorder, I would wake up dreading that day. From the moment I opened my eyes, my body was filled with anxiety and stress about numbers and measurements, about plans and rules, and about excuses and methods of hiding. To me, food was the enemy. Anything I put into my mouth needed to be compensated for, because if not, I was fat, ugly, and ultimately, a failure.
"To me, food was the enemy."
Whenever I looked at food, all I saw were numbers and emotions. Food was not just food. Food was calories, grams, rituals, exchanges, allowance, anxiety, permission, prohibitions.
In my recovery, I have been working to see food just as food. Just as an element to my day, and not my entire day. As a supplement to my life, and not as the substance of my entire life. One way that has allowed for this transition of appraisals has been through learning how to cook and create beautiful and delicious dishes. Eggs were no longer numbers, grams, or emotions, but a beautiful delicate source of vibrant yellows and whites, of textures and flavors. Avocados were no longer just calories, rules, or anxiety, but smooth and buttery hues of green that added to any dish.
My love of creating art is at the root of this transitioning view. I began to find joy in creating beautiful and delicious dishes. Food is just food. But even more than that, food is joy, love, connection, and life.