I Agonized Over Every Food Decision

Recently, I was reflecting on a cough drop conundrum I experienced many years ago.

I had a nasty cold and was kneeling on the floor of my neighborhood pharmacy analyzing the back of the cough drop packages to determine which one had the highest-quality ingredients and lowest amount of sugar. 

Despite it being a holistic pharmacy, none of their cough drops perfectly met my criteria so I dragged myself a few blocks uphill to check out the offerings at a more mainstream pharmacy. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t have what I wanted either.

I wasted hours that day going to multiple stores in search of the “healthiest” cough drops—time that would have been far better spent resting in bed.

Hyper-Fixated on Quality
When I was entrenched in diet and wellness cultures, not only was I obsessed with the number of calories I ate, I was also hyper-fixated on the quality of the food I consumed.

While I had long been interested in healthy eating, it wasn't until I began training to become a health coach that my interest in healthy eating escalated to a point where I agonized over the purity of nearly every single morsel I put in my mouth.

Agonized Over Every Decision
My cough drop incident stands out to me as it epitomizes how extreme my behavior had become.

At the time, however, I couldn’t see it. 

Preoccupied with eating perfectly, I couldn’t see how disordered my relationship with food was and how it was impacting my overall wellbeing, including how overwhelmed I was by everyday decisions. 

Should I buy the local cow-milk yogurt or the mass-produced soy yogurt? 

Should I get the expensive gluten-free bread from the freezer section or the cheaper whole-wheat bread fresh from the bakery in town? 

Should I go for the wilting bunch of locally grown kale or the perkier kale that was packaged in a plastic bag and shipped from another country?

From green juices and protein bars to hummus and spaghetti sauce, I’d take so much time scrutinizing every label and sweating every detail that my boyfriend refused to go shopping with me. 

More Rules and Restrictions
My obsession with eating clean and maintaining my reputation as a healthy eater added another layer of rules and restrictions on top of the already long list of food rules I followed in an attempt to shrink my body. 

I’d snub my nose at salmon that wasn’t wild, apples that weren't farm fresh, and tomatoes that were out of season.

If an almond butter had added oils or sugar, it stayed on the shelf. I wouldn’t touch strawberries that weren’t organic. I turned my back on anything made with refined flour.

Most regrettably, I shunned family favorites and food traditions if they contained “bad” ingredients.

Harming My Health
While I didn’t know it at the time, I was struggling with orthorexia—an unhealthy obsession with healthy eating.

I believed my high standards and food rules were improving my wellbeing when they were actually harming my physical, mental, emotional and social health. 

Naturally, my rigid rules turned me into a rigid person.

As more and more foods became demonized and off-limits, eating in an environment where I wouldn’t have control of my options became extremely difficult. 

I feared going to restaurants and dinner parties. Work lunches, happy hours, birthday celebrations and wedding receptions caused me anxiety. Traveling to new locales became stressful. 

I was no longer the flexible, spontaneous and carefree eater I used to be.

Instead, I was wasting an inordinate amount of time, energy, money and headspace doing what our diet and wellness cultures told me was the healthy, correct thing to do.

Healthy Relationship with Food
Thankfully, with the help of some wise guides, I was finally able to see how disordered my relationship with food had become. 

I came to understand that healthy eating, first and foremost, means having a healthy relationship with food.

To me, that means one that’s easygoing, flexible, balanced, satisfying, peaceful and intuitive.

Of course, while I no longer have food rules, I still have some food preferences.

However, I no longer stress out or feel guilty if I’m unable to eat exactly what I want. I just eat and move on. 

And, wow, has this made my eating—and my life—so much easier and so much more enjoyable.

If you relate to any of my story, I encourage you to seek support from a anti-diet, weight-neutral practitioner, whether it’s a therapist, nutritionist, coach or counselor. I'm here for you if need me.

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.