Notice how I say Emotional Eater? Not Stress Eater or Nervous Eater or Depressive Eater - just simply Emotional. Why? Because Stress, Nerves, Depression are all indicative of a mental state, thus emotive. Most of us have some sort of emotional connection to food - your grandmother's chicken soup or your Dad's potato salad. Food reminds us of where we've come from. Our earliest experience with parental bonding is when we nurse as minutes-old babies. In fact, oxytocin, coined the "love hormone," floods mothers' brains when they begin breast-feeding, strengthening the feelings of love and trust with their baby. This is remarkable, really. It helps ensure the infant's survival - nursing becomes a sort of positive feedback loop during which the mother essentially craves more of that chemical. Well-fed babies survive best.
My husband was watching Top Chef on Bravo recently, and noted that Lorraine Bracco and the rest of the guest judges kept going back to how the food made them feel. Really, think about a time when you were excited about food - and I don't mean getting to try out that new restaurant you've heard great things about. I mean a time when it was something as simple as a grilled cheese sandwich or a burger. Now, try to remember why you were excited. Had it been a long day at work? Was it your birthday? Did your spouse offer out of the blue to pick something up on the way home? I'm sure you can remember if you really think about it.
But as an Emotional Eater, all food ties into emotion somehow. I've been cursed and blessed with an extremely long and detailed memory. When I was almost 3, I remember feeling super-special because my Dad got the vending machine guys to toss me an Orange Crush while we waited for my Mom to get her ultrasound done on my overdue baby brother. The following year, I somersaulted off the bed and sprained my neck; my Mom held her hands around my neck like a C-spine collar until Grampa arrived to take us to the hospital; I ate Cheerios while we waited. At age 7, Gramma and Grampa brought over Mama Luna's pizza and told us they were taking us to Disneyworld while we ate. And so on...
It doesn't matter if I'm anxious, sad, happy, or bored, or whatever's in-between - I find something to eat if it's a strong emotion. The only thing that changes is what I want to eat based on the emotion. And this is where the addiction rears its ugly head - I need to eat something that fills the hole, so to speak. Something that takes the edge off the feeling. To put emotions on a scale of 1 to 10, and happiness is at level 5 when a new episode of my favorite show is on, I'm okay. But when my favorite band closes a show with my favorite song, that's a level 10, and a cheeseburger will get me back down to a level 5. The stress of monthly bills is a comfortable level 6, but the costs of moving are a level 10, a big ol' sandwich scales that back to a level 5.
At some point during childhood, I learned that food soothes the beast. I've been told that I always wanted to be held, like a little monkey, which became quite a challenge after my brother was born. My puppy's like that - so when I'm busy with other things, I put some peanut butter in a toy and he's occupied on his own. I'm pretty sure that's what everyone did with me - it was either feed me or have a nervous breakdown.
My brother was a handful; he nearly required constant supervision. Though I'm not a advocate of drugging youngsters, he was definitely the poster child for ritalin. Dad was a great guy, but a little emotionally ill-equipped as a father - he wanted us to be seen and not heard - and he'd get much louder than we ever could. So between those two males, Mom had her hands full. I, on the other hand, could stifle my feelings with food and just sit calmly reading a book or watching tv if I wasn't out playing.
Of course, stuffing my feelings down has led to TWO unintended side effects. One is obvious, weight gain. The other that food doesn't make the emotions go away, it just soothes the beast, as I said before. It means that feelings tend to come out too strongly for the situation and at really inappropriate times. For example, I was on the E.T. Ride at Universal Studios and started BAWLING when E.T. said "Annnnaa friiiieeeennnd" at the end. I'm not allowed to watch any ASPCA commercials or talk to my husband about the big bang. Again, I have to stifle myself.
So I exercise. The physical exhaustion helps take the emotional edge off, but I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit to eating more than my fair share of Nutter Butter cookies the other day when I was trying to figure out how to make a career change. I know all the weight-loss tricks, I understand nutrition, I realize how my genetics affect me, I get portion-control - but, like a lot of overweight folks, I still can't quite grasp how to break the link between my emotions and food. That's the battle.
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