“One day you’ll write about your relationship with food,” my counselor said.
In that moment I knew what anxiety felt like (again).
My reply at the time was, “Oh, I am not sure about that or when I will be ready. This is a deep wound; I would not know where to begin.”
I heard her words clearly as she kindly gazed at me with a smile. “One day.”
Over a year has passed since that day, and I’m not ready yet. I am honestly still not sure where to begin. Yet this is “one day” on my journey.
Today, I sit at my keyboard with homemade kombucha in my cup, a tea I love brewing and enjoying. I ate an omelet for lunch. It consisted of real food from God’s earth. But I also added pepperoni (of the turkey variety) and some cheese (from a jar).
My friends and family fall into categories of “You ate something from a jar” and “Wow, I didn’t know they made turkey pepperoni.” Maybe, you see my struggle? Maybe, you do not notice anything odd about food from a jar. If not, you’re likely in the second category and are also now Googling, “What is Kombucha?”
You see, my healing journey has taken me on some strict paths of fasting from specific food groups…on purpose. I was horribly ill at the time and that fasting and guidance from my physician brought me much healing. It helped tremendously. Yet, I’m in a season of what feels like… rebellion. For me, it’s “living large” to open a package on occasion and not check the ingredients. After all, my body responds so clearly to what I eat, and I truly must acknowledge this or I become ill. Not checking ingredients can be risky. Yet living in a food bubble is risky as well, not as much for my body but for my mind and my heart.
When rebellion happens, it is also unhealthy. My self-care habits become lazy, and my body becomes sick. I have been in this rebellion place, and it is not healthy either—spiritually, emotionally, or physically.
What is a girl to do? I have finally discovered, this healing journey with food goes beyond ingredients. What is the fine balance of finding healing on the journey when you discover you have had an unhealthy relationship with food for nearly your entire life? How is it that admitting I have an unhealthy relationship with food and what I can now state as an eating disorder feels so shameful? Why does anxiety plague me with most meals and yet I cover it up so well—and have for so long? Few know of the struggle I face daily with ingredients and labels like GMOs, organic, MSG, gluten, raw, the list continues.
As a matter of fact, it feels raw to write these words. Yet, I sense today is the day. One day. My anxiety falls low on the ingredient list for the untrained eye, yet it is present.
Anxiety is no stranger to me, but it’s been over a decade since I experienced its effects. For years, I’ve covered it up with well-balanced and managed emotional health and good diet patterns. I first met anxiety after a health trauma in my life years ago, and anxiety made its home in my heart. It took years of practicing mindfulness, meditation, yoga, and seeing a counselor to discover freedom from the effects my health crisis caused me at that time—and to break free from the anxiety. I thought I was free.
Fast forward a decade to a fresh new season of living into my purpose and call, all while writing and teaching mindfulness tools and sharing them with others! How dare anxiety return to greet me in this wonderful season?
Yet, it has returned, as unwelcome as it is through another health episode (although not as serious), in which I am reminded of the fragility of life. Anxiety appears all around me, but especially on my plate.
Here is what I have learned on my own healing journey. The closer we get to experiencing God’s healing touch, the deeper we realize what binds us and the rawer that feels. I now recognize it on my plate and the fear I have hidden behind over the years with healthy ingredients and secret rebellious snacking. I have been afraid I may hurt those I love by sharing my wounds because much of what I know (and fear) about food was not modeled in healthy ways by my family of origin.
When others eat for nutrients, my brain plays games over and over and over again. My deep wounds surface, looking like a perfectly balanced meal to some, yet to me, it brings a conflict of inner emotions and feelings I’ve looked to food to heal. Anxiety surfaces on my plate.
Yet, it isn’t about the food at all. I eat to celebrate. I eat to mourn. I control what I eat to celebrate. I control what I eat to mourn.
Is it possible to simply eat? I see my counselor’s smile, and I ponder my Creator’s gaze. Yes, I believe it is possible to simply eat. I believe anxiety will show me how, finally.
So, today is the first day I openly write about food, beyond the pages of my journal.
Chocolate nor wine.
Fasting nor supplements.
Keto nor Paleo.
Eating perfectly won’t heal my wounds. Eating imperfectly won’t heal my wounds. Counting points won’t heal my wounds. Binging on gluten-free cookies won’t heal my wounds. Fasting from everything non-organic won’t heal my wounds.
Until now, only my Creator knows of this struggle and has heard this admission. Well, and my counselor…and newest therapist who knows this work well … and now you. While it’s taken a long time to admit, the anxiety caused by food has been a reality I know far too well.
Today is the day, and the next, and the next, and the next. I am not healed overnight, but I am admitting my weakness, my imperfection, and my struggle. And that is the “one day” I’ve longed to embrace. A day that reminds each of us we are not alone in this life. A day that I can move from the shadow of shame and cling to God’s light and love. Today is that day!
In my weakness, God makes me stronger. Not perfect, but free. Oh, anxiety, I thought you were long gone. Yet, I find that as you appear boldly before me once again, you have much to show me about myself. You are ready to set me free!
This article originally appeared in the May 2018 edition of The Redbud Post, featuring Anxiety. Since that time, my body has been adjusting to my new emotional break throughs and yet also struggling with the physical effects of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Our bodies are wise, my friends. More writing will come. For now, I'm breathing deep and practicing my mindfulness exercises. Thanks for supporting me on this journey with your kind words and encouragement.
Click here to read the most current edition of The Redbud Post.
Whitney R. Simpson
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Whitney R. Simpson,
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