What I Ate When My Heart Was Broken

Many years ago, I went through a devasting breakup. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and drop-kicked to the moon.

I was flattened by a level of sadness and depression I had never experienced before. I cried for weeks. My body felt weighed down by grief.

As a result, I lost much of my appetite and my desire to cook. 

My partner and I loved cooking together and the thought of doing it solo was just too painful. 

Very little sounded appealing and I couldn’t stomach anything fresh. 

The only foods that felt tolerable and manageable were buttered pasta and peanut-butter toast, plus banana bread muffins and chocolate chip cookies from a local bakery.

For weeks, these foods comforted me when little else could. They helped me survive one of the hardest, darkest times of my life. 

What I Needed
Despite being deeply entrenched in diet culture and obsessed with controlling my weight at the time, which sadly played a role in the breakup, I’m grateful I let myself eat foods I typically restricted.

Of course, there was a part of me—my inner Food Police—that made me feel bad about my eating. However, it wasn’t as strong as the part of me that desperately wanted to ease my suffering. 

Although my chosen foods didn’t erase my sadness or grief, they did help sustain me. They gave me the emotional comfort and physical energy I needed to make it through each day. 

Demonized by Diet Culture
Despite its tremendous power to soothe, diet culture has demonized comfort food. 

It has taught us to feel bad, guilty, weak or ashamed when we turn to it to navigate tough times. 

As a result, we often feel we have to justify our desires, hide our eating, and make up for our “food sins.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Rightful Coping Tool
Turning to food to self-soothe is a natural human behavior, one we do from the day we’re born.

Its ability to soothe our mind, body, heart and soul is something to embrace and celebrate. 

Providing comfort is just one of the many roles it plays in our lives, one of the many ways it meets our needs, and one of the many gifts it gives us.

For many of us, food is an easily accessible coping mechanism—one that has a rightful place in our emotional coping toolkit.

Compassion and Curiosity
My “heartbreak diet” didn’t last forever. I eventually added in more foods and made my way back to cooking. 

I’ve had much tougher, sadder times since that breakup and it’s been interesting to see how each experience has impacted my eating.

Because I’ve worked hard to make peace with food and my body—something that was spurred on by that breakup—I’m now able to observe what I’m experiencing with compassion and curiosity rather than criticism and judgment.

And I appreciate all the more the power of food to comfort. 

I Don’t Want to Pass My Food Issues on to My Kids

Can you relate to Sandra's story?

For as long as she can remember, Sandra's mom has meticulously counted calories and carefully weighed almost everything she eats. 

When her aunts visit her parent's house, the conversation is often centered on who is doing what diet and how it’s going, together celebrating their wins and commiserating over their struggles. 

Their own mother, Sandra's grandma, is a very restrictive eater who frequently comments on family members’ weight and polices everyone's eating.

Sandra's dad also has a fraught relationship with food. Over the years, he’s swung numerous times from eating everything to restricting something, whether it’s fat, carbs or the hours he’s allowed to eat.

In Sandra’s childhood home, food was feared, moralized and demonized. Almost every eating decision was based on how it would impact one's weight.   

At the pubescent age of 11, when it's normal for kids to gain a lot of weight, Sandra's mom took her to her first weight-loss meeting.

Although she felt a little weird being the only kid in the room, she also felt inspired by the success stories the women in the circle shared, especially when everyone cheered and clapped. 

It felt good to be a part of their club and to be doing something to fix her apparently problematic body.

Ending the Legacy
Stepping into that weight-loss clinic as a young girl launched Sandra on the dieting rollercoaster. Since then, she’s tried every diet under the sun. After more than 20 years of yo-yo dieting, she’s hit rock bottom. 

Even though she doesn’t like her body, she can’t stand the thought of going on one more diet. More than anything, she can’t stand the thought of passing her family’s legacy of body shame and dieting on to her kids.

She doesn’t want them to view food as good or bad, feel guilty about their eating, hate their bodies or obsess over their weight.

Many of my clients who are thinking about starting a family or already have kids express their desire to protect their children from our harmful diet culture. 

They don’t want them to suffer the way they and their family members have and thus are deeply motivated by the idea of not handing down their food and body challenges.

This is also true for many of my clients who don’t have children but have kids in their life, whether it’s their nieces, nephews, friends’ kids, students or team players.

I get really excited when my clients share this desire with me because I know the positive ripple effect that can occur when just one person heals their relationship with food and their body and how doing so can help put an end to a family history of disordered eating and anti-fat bias.

What Kind of Role Model?
For my clients with this goal, we spend time exploring what type of role model they want to be when it comes to food and bodies.

We talk about how they can reclaim their ability to eat intuitively while helping the kids in their life maintain their ability to do so.

Then we do the challenging yet rewarding work that’s required to divest from diet culture and build a peaceful relationship with food and their body, one that they’re excited to pass along. 

I Have a Love-Hate Relationship With Food

How would you describe your relationship with food?

When I ask people this question, one of the most frequent answers I get is “I have a love-hate relationship with food.”

Some other common responses include:

• Bad

• Complicated

• Obsessive

• Unhealthy

• Stressful

• Guilt-ridden

• Difficult

• All-or-nothing

• Controlling

• Compulsive

• Anxiety-filled

• Unsatisfying

• Negative

• Judgmental

• Fearful

• Punitive

Do any of these descriptors resonate with you?

I See It Differently Now
Many years ago, when I was restricting my eating in an effort to lose weight and be a "clean eater," I probably would have described my relationship with food as good, healthy, disciplined. 

As I was so entrenched in diet and wellness cultures, I couldn’t see how disordered my eating had become. I thought I was being good, doing the right thing. 

This belief was often reinforced by many of the people around me, who often praised my eating. I don’t blame them; we live in a culture that normalizes and celebrates disordered eating. 

Ironically, I also considered myself to be a passionate foodie even though I rarely ate anything that wasn't on my diet-approved safe list. Instead, I took a lot of joy in watching others consume the foods I was excited about it.

Looking back now, I would describe my relationship with food as all-consuming, hypervigilant, calculated, rigid, black-and-white, moralistic, fraught, tense, isolating and utterly exhausting. 

I feel sad and regretful when I reflect on that time, and also incredibly grateful I got out of such an awful relationship.

Of course, some aspects of it were pleasurable, at least for brief moments until I reached the point of uncomfortable fullness (overeating is a natural response to food deprivation), and before my inner Food Police started shouting at me (“You were so bad! You need to make up for it!).

What Do You Want?
In addition to asking folks how they would describe their relationship with food, I also like to ask what type of relationship they would like to have.

Easy, guilt-free, peaceful, positive, pleasurable and neutral are just a few of the words that come to mind.

"I just want food to be food" is a common refrain.

When you reflect on this question, what comes up for you? 

And what’s standing in between where you are now and where you would like to be?