Food Glorious Food: Unpacking My Unhealthy Relationship With Food
I hate food. Probably one of the wildest things about me. And as much as I wished this was some sort of clickbait, it’s not. I hate food, I hate cooking and most of the time? I hate eating. If I could instantly and without me having to taste, smell or touch food? You know, just so I can get the nutrients and whatever, so I don’t die? I would. I have an unhealthy relationship with food, and for some time now I have been trying to figure what that means and the possible reasons why. Here are my thoughts.
I have always been like this, as a child I would barely eat, and only eat certain foods. My parents struggled to make me eat, they remind me now and then that I went through phases of consuming certain foods, like mashed potatoes and how they would take me to the doctor’s, and they would inform my parents if I didn’t eat? I would die. I was skinny and I was aware, I remember this ridiculous “party trick” of mine where I would ask the other kids, “wanna see my ribcage?” and I would do so just by lifting my shirt. Yes, weird, but I’ve always been weird.
As a teen, I would buy lunch at school and give half away to my friends. I thought nothing of this arrangement until recently a friend of mine shared that my doing so allowed her to have food every day. To delve into that is a conversation for another time. My lunch each year changed, but I recall feeling for certain foods and being disgusted by everything else, a practice I carried from childhood. My parents love to remind me that I despised most Jamaican meals, preferring certain ready-made and canned foods. When I ate at home, it was under restrictions. Although in my childhood my family pushed for me to eat more, by my teens I did but I was given a limit. I could only consume a certain amount of food before being accused of being pregnant. I would like to point out that I went to an all-girls school with a journey that meant the bus picked me up from my house, dropped me on the school campus and then back (there was no time for me to meet a secret boyfriend to engage in underage sex and pregnancy nor did I want to. I think it was here I developed my habit of never finishing my food even more. This was the same time I was being pressured to learn how to cook and clean for my husband. I say that again, “for my husband”. Putting aside the assumptions that I want to get married or that I am straight, I still find it fascinating that I was not advised to learn for myself. Because of the level of commitment expected and because I saw not learning as an act of rebellion. I didn’t. Something I would later regret.
When I got to university, things took a whole different turn. I found myself one day in the first year, dying for some soup. Any soup. As long as it was made the way my family made it. I called my older sister; she gave me ingredients and instructions. I don’t remember how it turned out but the fact that I don’t tell me it wasn’t great. Similar experiences happened through university. There was a lot of trial and error. Some meals I mastered while others I failed miserably. It was at university I made a few observations; many Black girls used their ability to cook as a badge of honour. They would post photos and videos of their cooking with pride on social media. At first, I envied them, but once I discovered them many Black guys used this to compile a directory of persons to feed them. Many times, I was invited to the flat of some random girl who after posting her cooking, was complimented by some guy which somehow led her to agree to cook for him and a handful of friends. Another thing that happened was that I learnt the simplistic yet mind-blowing fact that everyone was taught to cook differently. In the first year, I had a flatmate who didn’t know how to use an oven and others who knew how to throw it down in the kitchen. Being around the latter meant going to group dinners would happen and I was always scolded for not eating enough or finishing my meals. At times it was jokingly so but others reminded me of growing up and having family members ask me” what’s wrong with you?”. It wasn’t a nice feeling to be brought back to. Even worse, I learned another bad habit, forgetting to eat (yes, this happens). I can still wake up and go about my day and it hits 6 pm, I feel light-headed before I realise “I have not eaten all day long”.
It was at university I was diagnosed with ADHD, although I didn’t necessarily take it seriously until last year (about a year after my diagnosis). I now know some things which shed even more light. In 2018, Gail Connor Roche in an article for HCPLive referred to disordered eating as “patterns of eating behaviours that deviate from normal, but do not meet all of the criteria for a clinical diagnosis of an eating disorder (ED).” The article features details of Panagiota Kaisari’s two studies on the Associations Between Core Symptoms of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and Both Binge and Restrictive Eating. The first of the two studies suggested that the participants’ inattentive symptoms of ADHD predicted binge/disinhibited eating both directly and also indirectly by an effect on negative mood and awareness of cues about hunger and fullness. The second study contrasted with the first and the team concluded that there is more research to be done. Whether or not I could find research to agree with me. I think for me to conclude that the reason why I don’t eat is that my ADHD is too simplistic. But I do not doubt that my ADHD plays a part.
At this point, I feel I should mention I have always wanted to be a vegetarian, as a child, those phases of eating certain foods included cutting out meat. But with my limited options, I still struggle with this. Even more, because I want to be vegan at times and the alternatives just don’t work for me. But wanting to change my diet to become vegetarian or vegan allowed me to start the process that I am on a limited diet. This was furthered by my desire to eat better in general. The choice of fruits and vegetables that I am willing to consume is limited (I hate smoothies, like a lot).
Now, this is just a summary of my history of diet and relationship to food and cooking but in knowing me, there’s so much more to unpack. Point is, I don’t like most foods, I hate cooking and eating food is not an enjoyable experience for me. It is super frustrating realising this is not normal and not okay. I don’t even have a smart or quirky way to end this. I am currently on a wellness programme via Sistervegan. We spend two zoom sessions per week doing two things, wellness (concerning food) and then cooking vegan meals. This past week we were tasked with raw vegan lasagne and I HATED it. But I like to believe there’s hope for me yet, this past year in this pandemic I have tried more new foods, cooked new recipes and thanks to Tupperware containers and my fridge? Consumed all of the said new food in new recipes I’ve cooked. I guess the point I am trying to make is, I want to normalise conversations around unhealthy relationships to food. Those that aren’t extreme enough for me to be considered having an eating disorder. Those that are shaped by several things. I have reasons behind why I am like this, but most people don’t understand how I got here. For me, that includes my neurodivergence, my background and my upbringing. Maybe array of others I don’t know yet. But what I do know? I hate food. Food glorious food.
