Dear Food, 

I feel like I am at a crossroads with you. For years I restricted you and then binged on you, part of me struggling to give myself enough of you and part of me demanding that I get my needs met. I know so much more now than I did when I first started struggling with you; I know about trauma, dissociation, how bingeing can't be "fixed" with restriction, that my weight and my body and even what or when or how much I eat are not the problem. I know that, nowadays, when I use you to numb my feelings or try to escape them, you don't provide me the true comfort and relief that I long for. I also know that, nowadays, I can enjoy you so much more than I did in the past. I can be flexible about when and what I eat, I can sometimes articulate what of you I'd like to eat, and I can sometimes say when I've had enough of you. 

 

I no longer binge as often as I used to, and I don't binge on the quantities of food I used to. But there are still lots of evenings when I turn to you and eat more of you than I'm hungry for, or I eat something that I don't even truly want to eat. I don't think this is the same as bingeing, but it still feels like I'm trying to use you in ways that you can't help me, and this behavior is keeping me stuck in a place I want to grow out of. I feel like I turn to you when I simply WANT—want more of a good feeling, or want less boredom, or exhaustion, or frustration from the workday. Why do I keep turning to you when I know you can't give me what I need? How can I connect this knowledge that you can't fix my feelings or take them away with the part of myself that still depends on you for . . . everything? I'm ready to take the next step, yet at the same time I feel like I am holding myself back.

 

From,

Caught in Between