Practical Magic
The Tale Of an Emotional Eater
When I was four years old, my mother, (as I have mentioned in a previous blog), went from stay-at-home mom and aspiring writer to full-time employed teacher and divorced mother of three. This threw my world into a tailspin. My mom who had previously been there for me everyday making life fun and safe and wonderful in a very hands-on and connected way was forced by circumstances to make life safe and fun and wonderful for me in another way—by earning a living. The changes for me were many and sudden and severe. My best friend and trusted companion and source of all comfort and security was suddenly gone far more than she was there.
The emotional upheaval in our house was dramatic and intense. My amazingly strong and brave mother took her change in circumstances with as much integrity and fortitude as anyone on the planet, but in my childish perception, she was just gone. She was suddenly absent from before I went to kindergarten in the morning until around 6 o’clock each night because of the insanity of a system that didn’t take into account any sort of work/life balance that forced her to complete her student teaching in a city far inland.
A good-hearted next-door neighbor and her best friend at the time, a lady named Pat, filled in as babysitter. Mornings, however, became a fend-for-yourself exercise since she was busy getting her own kids ready. I used to walk through the treacherous bird-of-paradise bushes between our lawns before school so she could buckle my shoes and button the back of my dress. This woman obviously saved my mother’s life, but she was busy and had two kids of her own, my older brother was already becoming “a handful” in response to circumstances, and she wasn’t my mother. She was a saint to help us whatever it looked like. It was as simple as that.
So, all of this started right before I began kindergarten. I was unfortunately an “early starter” with my birthday rendering me able to attend at four instead of five and because of circumstances I was going to have to make the three-block walk by myself each morning. I clearly remember my mother following a few feet behind me in her car as I walked to school alone. I knew and didn’t fully understand why she was behind me watching me walk. I can just imagine the emotion that she felt doing this—I also realize now my baby brother was in the car and she was on her way to drop him off at a place called “Happy Land” where she told me years later she would arrive a half hour early so she had time to sit in her car and cry.
So, it’s easy to see what was going on for us as a family group. By second grade my grandmother who had recently lost her husband had relocated to live with us and things got a lot more comfortable, but there was this two-year period between four and six where I learned to eat emotionally. It’s amazing that a child of four could manage this, but I could and did.
Enter Wonderâ bread.
I found at the tiny and tremulous age of four that I could sneak into the kitchen and steal piece-by-piece an entire loaf of Wonder
â bread. I would scurry to a hiding place and eat this—sans butter or jelly or anything else—just feeling that the emotionally hollow pit in my missing-my-mommy tummy would briefly feel better. (This is that food/mom connection that infants make looking into the eyes of their loving mother while breastfeeding. See my previous article,
If You Feed Me Do You Love Me @
http://bit.ly/eOnmdl ) In my childish way I was trying to replicate that food/love/mom connection. As I write this today it makes total sense. The connection between comfort and food was forged early for me.
Fast Forward—This Week and Reality
Moving forward from four to some age that, unless you know me personally from back in the day I will never reveal, I spent week three of my Go Red! Challenge feeling very emotional and dealing with a lot of stress and exhaustion and other stuff. Several of the days of my quest I sort of blew it and at least once I found myself at the cupboard of my kitchen metaphorically stealing Wonderâ bread and running away to eat it behind a chair. As I ate I felt that, of course, it wasn’t helping and in fact I had all the regret and tension that comes with denying my own best interests and not being true to myself, but I didn’t really see the connection—not completely. Emotional eating is a catch phrase that every diet program loves to bandy about, but until you understand your very own story and moment when food became a drug to you, those words are just the dogma of the diet industry. Today I think I get it and while the “aha! moment” will come and go—even a beginning understanding is the opening of a small door where light shines through.
So Happy Mother’s Day to you and to me—and especially to my own mother, whose bravery and fortitude made me the kind of person who stands in my own life willing to break down barriers. She made me brave enough to face my demons and strong enough to face them every day if necessary. For that, and for everything else on earth, I thank her.
Stats—Yes, I Am Giving You Stats
- Loss—1.4
- Total loss—5.6
- Water—yes.
- Veggies—oh, yes.
- Exercise—yoga twice (2 hours total and still too low).
- Attitude—yes.
- On track? Indeed. In the words of some very dated song from you-know-when: Keep on truckin’!
Disclaimer: Wonderâ bread is a quality food from a quality company that is obviously a part of a healthy diet if not eaten by the loaf in one sitting while hiding.
Pal Jack and I in the same place about 1.5 years between photos
My compliments to the fascinating and talented Jack Kelly for posing unwittingly for this blog post picture set. Please contact me if you think you want me to shop you or even to sue me. I probably owe you a beer for this. LOL J
