Fill Your Cup... and Your Plate

A few weeks ago I posted a selfie to my social media accounts with a small story concerning life right now: faded friendships; failed relationship; continued faith struggles; negative body image. Life has been a rollercoaster the last few years (and probably more), but I've been committed to wrestling with what's caused me pain or heartache -- be they far past experiences or newer circumstances -- and it's a decision I do not regret in the slightest. Not at all.

My faith issues, I've ranted and discussed them in multiple blog posts and have covered that pretty thoroughly. No update needed, really. Still learning grace; still hoping my anxiety and strong discomfort with church will chillax one day, but am finding some peace with God during regular moments of life (at work, on hikes through the woods). I'm a work in progress and despite my mess I'm gonna say I'm actually doing well.

One thing I've never really talked about is my unhealthy relationship with food and how it affects my body. This is a very old wound that I recently decided to squaresquareoff with, so I'm still in the processing phase. When did this start? How long have I been in fear of what food does to my body size? Here's honesty time, people. My first body conscious experience:

I was at school once day in maybe 3rd or 4th grade when a comment was directed at me. My memory of what I said or did before my perception changed is a fog -- maybe I took too much delight in my small size, as my frame was/is petite, and this girl (also tiny) didn't like it. I have no idea, just a wad of speculation. What she said to me, however, has been unforgettable. "Kristin, you're gonna be fat when you get older. My mom was skinny like you when she was young and now she's fat." Again, memory fog serves no purpose in helping me see how I reacted to her, but I vividly remember how I felt. Shocked. Shamed. Afraid. Oh, so fat is a bad thing. Don't become that. Okay. 😞 I wish I could say I remember exactly how I spent my pre-teen and teen years in terms of what I put into my body and how I felt about it.

In those years of fast working metabolism, my relationship with food was probably healthy-ish. I was an active, athletic girl who ate Big Macs and fries, and then burned them off on the hockey field. I drank Dr. Pepper with my best friends on the weekend (and during class), but I also remember eating what was on my plate at dinner each night with the family. Yeah, I could eat junk and not worry too much about my figure... but I still held fear in the back of my mind about my girlish figure. I'd study the amount of fat on my abs and lovehandle region and felt like maybe there was an excess. But I never did extra exercise outside of my sporty routine to rid myself of the dreaded rolls, nor did I change my eating habits. Live and let live. Things mostly seemed okay.

Then adulthood happened, I moved out of the house after I graduated college, and I could buy whatever I wanted. This is where things changed and I see the mental shift that gave way to fear. My job as a produce associate kept me in decent shape, so I still felt like I was able to eat much of what I wanted without fear of gaining too much... but the fear rose regardless. When my sister got married and I finally saw the wedding photos, I saw what I considered to be unsavory photos of what I deemed "trouble spots". You know, the areas on your body where all the other unwelcome cells accumulate like extroverts at a party. (As an introvert, I love my extrovert friends! This is a friendly reference made in good fun. #promise) I still had my eye on those areas, but this phase in my life meant I took myself to the gym, went on runs, and started to watch what I ate. Not all of this happened immediately; it was a gradual lifestyle change that took place over a few years.

Despite the lifestyle change and becoming more active/eating healthier, I started to become aware of my fear of putting on weight, even though I never put it into words: I'm afraid of gaining weight. My sweet tooth would fight against me and urge me to but candy or whatever unhealthy snack I wanted. I'd buy the item at the store, eat, then feel some kind of regret a week later. I can't finish this whole bag because if I do, I'm gonna to see my problem areas get worse, I'm gonna get fat, and I'm gonna think I'm ugly and hate what I like like. The bag of such-and-such would then find itself in the trash along with all the other stuff I had bought that would bring me the same fear-filled results. Increase in size. And when I did see more rolls on my abs or felt my waist growing ever so slightly? Time to start running regularly if I wasn't already. (My relationship with running was on/off, so I was inconsistent.) I did ask that out of fear that a bigger me meant I would somehow be unworthy, ugly, or even undesirable. The only version of "me" that I knew was "skinny" me. There was no place for anything different in my mindset. Be skinny. Stay skinny. That was my focus.

The funny thing about my eating habits is I'll bet you no one knew I did this. Ask my coworkers: they'll tell you I would buy cakes and cookies at work, and then invite everyone else to have some of what I bought. Offer me a danish? HELL YEAH I'll have one! My best friend is a mellark cook and I always ate what she made as far as I recall. (She was one of my McDonald's & Dr. Pepper buddies in high school, so she's seen me pack away my share of food.) My solution at the time was simple: buy what I want and let others share my purchase. That way I could moderate my intake, get my fix, and let others finish off the rest. I operated on a weird mix of generosity and fear, but it kept me from gaining, so I was okay with this MO.

Nowadays I'm not okay with my former MO. I doubt a healthy relationship with food involves throwing stuff away out of fear, low key monitoring your intake by sharing with others, or even saying to myself I can't buy that, I'll get fat if I eat it while staring at and craving Oatmeal Cream Pies. I know this now. I consciously know this now.
So why the change? Never thought I'd ever say the words, "I read an article by Taylor Swift that changed my life." She may not have changed my life in the most dramatic way you might think of, but it's still a perspective she shared with a magazine about 30 things she learned upon reaching her 30th birthday. That's where I ended up facing a personal monster of mine: she said she used to be afraid of every ounce of fat on her body; what she found with her newfound curves was healthier, shinier hair and more energy. Game. Changer.

That's when I decided to confront my own fear and that's also why I'm writing: it's my therapy, it's my chance to be publicly honesty, and it's an unexpected outlet of support and community with people who have been there or are there. I see a little deeper into people's lives when they share their story with me. That's so precious to me.

So far I've been trying a practice called "Intuitive Eating": eat what your body is craving until you're satisfied. No guilt, no shame... just enjoying food and letting your body be whatever size it naturally wants to be. It's not a diet; it's a way to give your body what it's telling you it wants. There's more to this, I'm sure, but am still in the learning process and an enjoying this practice. The last few weeks I've done this and z-e-r-o food has gone in the trash out of fear. I'm nervous about how my body might change by giving it what it wants, but I hope to find myself happier, less guilty, more full, and more energetic. I'm excited for what's to come. 😊