How has your relationship with food changed?

[Alexandra 55]

I am SO glad I don't have to do the cooking in this house. I agree, if you can't eat much there's very little motivation for cooking. I'm perfectly happy with something tiny for dinner and then, that's it. Cooking for other people has never been something I like to do, so I'm immensely blessed that I don't have to.

It's absolutely true that this mental journey takes time. Even now, almost 18 months out, I still sometimes reflexively heap a plate full for myself. There were lots of times I found it frustrating and even saddening that my eat-till-I'm-busting days are done. But my band doesn't let me down and I simply can't eat more than a relatively small amount. And isn't that exactly, precisely what we want it to do? Can't lose weight until we EAT LESS than we were eating before.

[whippledaddy 5]

Wow, what a great thread. The minute I read it, I just knew I had to post. But............I hadn't even thought about my "relationship" with food. But, of course, that's exactly what it is. A relationship.

And there are all kinds of relationships. Some are one way, some are wholesome and nurturing. Some are obsessive. Some are compulsive.

food is on my mind most of the time. More than work, more than play. More than sex. My largest hurdle is the unclean plate. My Mom would make us clean our plates. If we didn't then the plate got put back in the fridge and came out at the next meal. If all that was left was two bites of bread crust, and it had turned green from going in and out of the refrigerator, it still got set in front of you instead of everyone else's dinner until you ate it. Technicolor fuzz and all.

My Mom didn't know it, but my baby sitter and her brother liked to play games with little Ryan. Mom hired them five nights out of seven. Mary Ann made me the same supper for three years. Toast and grape jelly, with chicken noodle Soup. If I didn't eat it all I was "punished". Said punishment always consisted of me removing all my clothes, then painful things happened. Are your imaginations good enough that I don't have to explain further? I hope so, 'cause I don't really want to go into detail. Not right now. Not here.

Some nights Edwin would help his baby sister Mary Ann baby sit me. Edwin didn't make me eat chicken noodle Soup, or toast and jelly. Edwin was an expert at getting me to eat other things. Disgusting things. Some I remember, some I don't. Both of these people were very fat. Edwin always wore a white shirt, and black pants. He must have gone six hundred pounds.

I have a memory of one night. A night when I couldn't eat what he gave me. He was sitting on a stool in their kitchen, a place that was always dark, no matter how many lights were on. He was sweating, his shirt was untucked, and his pants were undone. He was breathing heavily. "If you tell, no one will believe you. There aren't any marks." They tell kids today about not being touched where your bathing suit covers. Now I can't remember what happened, but I remember that if I had been wearing a bathing suit, everything it covered would have hurt.

Now, I didn't tell this for you all to feel sorry for me. Others have been abused, and much worse. I tell this to see if you agree with me. My biggest problem with food is that I absolutely feel that I must clean my plate. I find it so difficult to leave anything on my plate. My Mom, my two sadistic babysitters, made me clean the plate. I never experienced anything positive about not eating it all. Now, I must eat it all.

Lately I have let the band help me a little. I have to eat slower, and this gives me time to think. Never before have I eaten slowly enough to let myself think. I think about what was done to me. I get angry. I get defiant. And I leave at least a bite on my plate and throw it away.

I don't do it every time. I'm really struggling with eating slowly. For little Ryan, slow was bad. Slow could get you hurt. Eat fast. Don't taste, don't feel, eat fast. This is my way of beating it. This is my way of changing my relationship with food.

Of course, I could take what Edwin did to me and go on Fear Factor. "Yeah, I'll eat the plate of lizard brains, no problem. Gimme a cup of Gorilla spit to wash it down."

"Hi, I'm food. And what's eating me is Ryan."

[HarleyNana 10]

Ryan, Your Mom, Mary Ann and Edwin are not around anymore, eat as slow or fast as you desire to eat! You're the big guy in control now and now it's time for you to become what you might have been....it's never too late.

[whippledaddy 5]

Thanks Pat. I know. And when I take the time to remind myself, good things happen!

[DeLarla 22]

Ryan, what an amazing story. This is the most healing thread ever. How do I make it one of those "sticky" things that stays at the top? I think I'll start a new thread for annual awards for the best threads, most creative, most controversial, etc. This one blows me away.

This thread is the root of everything that has ever been wrong with me and my life. My food addictions and sick past will never leave me, no matter how much therapy I endure. Asking some of us to let go of the past is no different than asking me to change my hazel eyes to blue. I could put in some blue contact lenses, but I'll have to take them out at night in the dark when I'm all alone. We can't change. I don't dwell on the past or think of it when I'm eating, or when I'm watching food, or when I'm thinking of what to eat next. The memories aren't even around any more, but what happened to many of us when we were kids was like being branded for life with a hot Iron... many, many hot irons, over and over again. Sure, we can move on and say we'll eat slow, and we can chant matras to try to eat slow, and we can post notes reminding us to eat slow, and we can do daily affirmations, scream for help and go through the motions of eating slow. We can and do eat slow after much concentration and effort. But you simply can't re-program my brain to automatically eat slow, eat small, or stop when I'm full. It takes 24/7 work. I can't let my guards down for 2 seconds. I was losing weight and feeling great till the Christmas goodies, in all their heaps of abundance, won the fight. I started slow, using my new band as a tool, but eventually got right back into my old, pre-band habits of eating blind, numb, in hiding, fast, messy, glutonous. I hate myself for it. I should be hiding in the corner in shame, and I should hate myself. But I don't, and that's the progress I've made. That's where my personal growth shows. So even though I can't shake the embedded scars that my evil mother created, and even though I can't let go of the food that governs my every breathe, at least I can love myself now - most of the time anyway.

I felt so alone, like nobody could ever understand my dark world. But right here, in this very post, I see that other people had to eat molded, rottten, cold scraps for Breakfast. Ryan, my Momster did the exact thing. We'd have to gag down boiled liver and crunchy lima Beans, no salt, no butter, no bread with mostly-clear powdered milk. My sister often gagged at the table, causing a gag reflex for my brother and I with 3 children vomiting at the table like one of those "waves" the crowds do at football games. I eventually learned a way to open the back of my throat and swallow whole chunks to avoid the taste. But if I couldn't get the last chunk down, it would be cold and old on the table in the morning. The first time I cut school was in kindergarden on Halloween, when she put something so digusting in front of me that I sat crying in it. She wouldn't let me go to school till I ate it, but then sent me late, on Halloween, with no costume (as if I didn't already stand out like the class freak.) So I walked around all day long, a lost little girl. Looking back, it was learning how to swallow food in whole chunks that began my need to gulp food as fast as possible. But I never got satisfaction from eating and gulping food, so as an adult, I just kept gulping and gulping everything in site, past being physically sick and never getting any enjoyment out of food. Just needing more, needing something, not getting what I need.

To those of you that think we can shake these childhood traumas, we simply can't. I can't stop thinking about food. I'm stuffed from my salad and one piece of pizza, but for Heaven's sake, there's 3 pieces left in the kitchen screaming my name. I have to stop typing every few lines to mentally tell the pizza to shut up. I also have dreams of food. Huge, binge, fattening food. I feel full in my dreams. I hate myself in my dreams. We certainly can't control what we dream about. I've seen about a dozen therapists, and each one treats me like I'm the Lifetime Movie of the Week. They sit back in awe of these tales - and these are eating-disorder specialists. But the therapists haven't heard too much, so they're not too familiar with eating disorders, because dishonesty and "closet eating" are what they usually see in clients. Not me, I tell it like it is. Then they don't know what to tell me, so they send me away with the name of some book that some other normal-weighted person wrote based on what they learned in college.

Ryan, everyone... keep sharing. I think this is brilliant. I'm 42 years old, and I'm finally meeting people who know me intimately. Some of you know me better than my husband because you are me, you've been there. Hey, guess what? After all these years, we're not alone, and it feels amazing.

The last thing I want is sympathy, which would only make me feel pathetic. Perhaps that why I don't take things too seriously. I learned to laugh. Laughter saved my life. I learned to be blunt and say what's on my mind. I'm often too blunt, too outspoken, but that's just because I want to be heard. I don't want to sit in a corner alone any more, in the dark, crying.

Writing just this one page was more valuable to me than all my therapy combined. If anyone read this far, thank you.

[DeLarla 22]

Whooosh! That was a pretty heavy post, so I better cheer you up now with a pretty funny Momster story. She always ate and made the most disgusting things. I think the worst was frozen liver dumped in a little steamy Water with scrambled eggs. No salt, no butter, just eggs cooked in liver water and a hunk of frozen liver in the middle that was never cooked. I couldn't even gag it down as a child, so I just opted for the beatings. I don't even remember the beatings, I have very few memories of the Momster as a child. 7-8 blank years. Probably best I don't remember.

But that's not the funny part. One day she read that cow's brains made you intelligent, so she steamed some up (like the liver, frozen blob of brains dumped in a pan with some water.) Gosh, my throat is all balled up just thinking about it.

We were all dry heaving, and she made this huge drama scene about how they weren't as awful as they looked and tried reasoning with us about how expensive they were (as if that would motivate a 6 year old to eat brains.) So she scooped some into her mouth to show us that they were delicious... then she gagged! She never, ever wasted food, so she had to give her precious cow's brains to our dog, who took one sniff and ran out the door. That was the best day ever, so I guess I do have one good memory.

[whippledaddy 5]

Well, my Mom was, at least, a good cook. She passed on those cooking skills to me, and I built on them. So there has been good with the bad. And my parents were usually loving and supportive, I didn't know then just how poor we were. She did wonders with very little, and the food wasn't the nightmare you had to eat. So I got the uneaten leftovers when I wouldn't eat the crust of the bread, or wouldn't eat my veggies.

I now understand they couldn't waste any food, or anything else. All of my clothes were home made, and they looked it. My sneakers were patched. I didn't even see the kids on assistance with patched sneakers! My parents were the type of people who, when they had to file bankruptcy, paid the bills anyway.

And, wow, this thread really is great isn't it? It's opening so many doors for me to contemplate this part of my life. Edwin always wore white shirts and black pants. My mom always made me wear white shirts and black pants. I've always worked in food service where you are expected to wear..............white shirt and black pants. That's even my uniform at the prison. White shirt and black pants. I refuse to wear either on my day off.

Wanna know what really decided me on the LapBand? I looked in the mirror at my heaviest (366) and saw Edwin. I knew I had to fight back. I didn't want to die this way, and I sure as Hell didn't want to die as an Edwin clone!

My Mom wasn't crazy, thank God. It's a tribute to your strength that you are so together. Mom was from a different time, with a different mindset. This is the same woman who taught me to enjoy Christmas without spending one cent. This is the woman who always cheered me on in everything I tried. Everyone fails sooner or later. My Mom failed to listen when I tried to tell her about my babysitters. But if she had listened............... she would have gone ballistic. Mary Ann and Edwin wouldn't have seen the light of the very next day.

But I, too, stood out at school. And not in a good way. I was fat, and my Momma dressed me funny. I was nerdy. I was in the "brain" clique. I was a target. A large, hard to miss one, at that. I learned to fight. I worked at very physical labor, so when I beat even the jocks, they left me alone. I didn't get respect, though. They were just afraid of being beaten up. It took me a long time to learn that the only person I needed to get respect from.........was myself.

I agree. My food obsessions and compulsions will always be with me. I hope that they will become like the drone of a fan, or the sounds the fridge makes, I hear them, but don't listen. I know they will always be droning at the back of my mind. They are there now. Cajoling. Begging. Wheedling. Demanding. I have met the enemy (And like Pogo) I realize that he is me.

Somewhere, crouching in the dark, tired of hurting, and afraid of hurting more, is a small nine year old boy. He's pleading with me to just give them all what they want. Eat it. Eat it all. Don't gag, or choke, or puke. Just get it down, quick as possible. For a time he'll feel safe. The food has been dealt with. But wait, there's more food, food that hasn't been eaten. Food in the pantry, food in the fridge. He wants to get it all eaten, so the fear will end.

I hate a full refrigerator. I love an empty pantry. A can of peas, is all I want in there. No chicken noodle Soup. If it ain't there I don't need to eat it. But, of course the stores have more. And they don't run out.

If this post sounds a little crazy, it's because it's about a crazy subject. But it's healing. I'll dig deeper. If I can get to the little boy I'll tell him about a story I wrote. A story about two baby sitters, and how they tortured a boy about food. Used painful sex to punish him when he didn't eat. Then they got old, and they went to a nursing home to live. And who took care of them? Why that little boy, all grown up. He fed them every day. And he smiled as he did. And when mealtime came their eyes filled with fear. And they promised not to do those things to anyone, ever again. Maybe that story will calm the little boy, and he can let the man he became live a better life.

[leatha_g 4]

(((((((((((Lisa))))))))))) We love you girlfriend. It takes alot of guts to put yourself out there like that. Good for you! you too, Ryan (((((Ryan)))))

[New Hope 37]

God bless each one of you and heal those terrible wounds!

[claraluz 2]

I have no history of childhood privation or abuse to help explain why my relationship with food became so twisted. I had no problems with food until early adulthood, when I became severely depressed. Unfortunately, the depression lasted for many years and even after it improved, it never left for long. I guess I was very depressed for at least half of my adult life. On and off. On and off. And I learned that if I ate mass quantities of food - especially carbs - I became numb. So food was my drug and it worked very well. It never cured me, of course, but it probably kept me from killing myself. Because when I ate like that, the pain left for a few hours.

About four years ago, I found a treatment for my depression that actually works and I have been more or less depression-free since then. That set the stage to allow me to think about weight-loss surgery and to contemplate living binge-free.

Since being banded, I can't binge, so food does not have the power to numb me. That's OK because I don't want to be numb anymore. I want to live. And I want to be healthy. I've started cooking and enjoying it. I'm eating healthy foods. When deciding what to eat, I usually choose food that is nutritious. I know I don't have room for much, so I want what I eat to be what my body needs.

Food really isn't as fun as it used to be and that's a shame, but it's a small price to pay. And I agree that our old feelings about food never really leave entirely. I still want to binge and sometimes I still want to feel numb. I lose control and eat sweet foods that go right through the band. But it really doesn't numb me like it once did. The drug has lost it's power. But I have found mine.

Peace and healing to all of my band friends.

Nancy

[Jammin & Losin 1]

Lets see... not sure where to start after reading these posts.... I guess the first thing is that my story is a lot different from most of the others. I was a (little girl) until I turned about 10.that was when I could really remember being called the fat kid. I don't think I ever realized I had a problem with food. I ate for reasons of gatherings with family that treated me good(we weren't the Walton's)but I had a good child hood... at home. At school was a different story. I didn't have very many true friends and the ones I thought were my friends made fun of me behind my back. I remember coming home from school on several occasions with the tops of my legs sore from the desk's sitting on my legs... or sitting side ways so they wouldn't be sore.One day a boy slugged me in the back and I pushed him up against the wall, I asked why he did that to me and his reply was because your FAT!!! So I picked him up and threw him across the hall.(its amazing how much strength you can get when your mad)Needless to say that was the one and only time I was ever in the principles office.I also was heart broken in the 4th grade when I wrote a note to a cute boy in my class that I liked him and he wrote back that he didn't like FAT GIRLS!!! I ate when I was bored or mad or when I felt upset that someone was making fun of me. I ATE FOR COMFORT!!! I ATE TO COPE WITH BEING FAT!!! Even thou now I look back and realize I had it good I was loved . I had two parents who loved me unconditionally and that said I was beautiful and smart.

Our house was the neighborhood gathering place for all of my brothers friends who had child hoods more like some the other posts,abuse, neglect, and deffinate crulty! We always had plenty of food, so they came to our house to eat. I remember my mother giving 1 boy( who always came to our house in old torn up clothes and no shoes) a sack of clothes my brother had out grown... and when the boy took them home ,his mother brought them back and told my mother she didn't need her charity So my mother just sent him home in a different outfit every time he visited till she gave them all to him.Not to menton 1 night his mom and dad got in to an argument and his dad was about to shoot his mother with a gun, so the boy shot his dad with a different gun.( this was after years of watching his mother be beaten. Guess who he wanted to stay with when his uncle came to get him while his father was air lifted to the hospital. With Mr. Dennis(my dad)

Has I got older being over weight really started to get to me. I remember about age 14( the worst year of my life) I sat on my bed and I would cry and I would tell my self you are nothing, you are fat you are ugly and you will never be anything any body wants. I would hit my self on my legs till they bruised, like I was having a tantrum . Then I turned 15 and had a little different outlook on alot of things. I thought I 'll just have to diet and watch what I eat,so I took it to extreme I would make excuses not to eat Breakfast, and I would skip lunch at school, then by the time I got home I would eat any thing I could get my hands on,and the next day I would tell my self you are weak and you will not eat until you get SKINNY!!!! so this went on for a while and I would not eat , then I would binge. Till finally it got really easy to just not eat. I got use to feeling hungry. I remember one night my dad cooked steaks and I wouldn't eat and we got into a fight about my eating habits and I got up from the table and ran to my room. I started loosing weight and decided mentaly food was my enemy. I lost 70 pounds!!! My mother tried to talk to me about why I wasn't eating and I would lie and tell her I had already ate or I got a snack at school. Finally I started bleeding one day and bleed for almost 3 weeksI would eat just enough so I wouldn't pass out.At first I thought I was just having problems with my cycle but mom insisted she get me checked at the Dr. They said I wasn't eating enough which caused my body to do this.At that point I think I realized that I was doing more harm than good and that I had a problem. I turned back to food as comfort again. I gain that 70 pounds back and more.I got married got pregnant and gained some more.

Has I got older I would get on 1 strick diet after another,lose weight and gain it back. I feel like I've been on a diet my whole life. I think the hardest thing for me was in Oct. 2004 I went to Dr. to talk about what other diet I could get on that I had not tried already and I got the answer well since your MORBIDLY OBESE why not just have obesity surgery. I think it had accured to me long before.I just wasn't sure I was ready to admit to my self that I just could not quit eating and lose weight on my own. about a year ago I remember getting really upset when my husband ask me what was for supper and I screamed at him and said (I'LL FIX YOU SUPPER AND I"M HAVING FAT SURGERY) here I was trying to eat right and not think about food and all he says is whats for supper. I think thats when the thought of getting the band really crossed my mined. After the Dr. confirming that this was my last resort to lose the weight,It hit me(you have do this, it has to work). So I told my husband I really wanted to have this done and from there it is in the works I hope to be banded in Jan or Feb.My husband all thou he doesn't have a weight problem has been so supportive of me. I really just want to get to a healthy weight. I don't know what to expect and I'm scared to death,but on the other hand i feel modivated and happy and I think those feelings are helping to get me 1 day closer to getting banded. I don't know the road that lies ahead or how I will feel this has changed my way of eating but I do know it has already given me hope that with this tool I will not be a failure any more!!!! Thanks to you all who post here even in times of bad dreams and memories! MAY YOUR NEW DREAMS AND NEW MEMORIES YOU MAKE EACH DAY BE AS BRIGHT AND BEAUTFUL AS YOU ARE> Thanks for creating this post!!!

[DeLarla 22]

When I read what I wrote last night it's hard to believe that was my life. I don't even think about those days anymore (unless I dip into meditative-therapy mode like last night.) All I'm stuck with now is the food obsession. If I married different, things might be easier, but I married a guy that likes a buffet every night. I'd like to get home and prepare a healthy dinner for us to enjoy, but he gets home a few hours before me so his feast is usually all ready. And he can't win with me because the days he cooks frustrate me because I'm trying to be good, and if he doesn't cook I come home famished and wish he would have! I never ever push any of my dieting issues on him, but he's affected nonetheless. He simply can't keep up with what I'm eating. On a rare occasion I'll cook, but after he eats what I make, he still makes himself a 2nd dinner later. Anything light or vegetable related is just a snack to him. Then he goes to bed at 7:00 pm, which leaves me alone for 3 very dangerous hours. Something about being alone in the dark at night flips my switch on, and the food screams my name. I've gone to bed with him to avoid my food obsession, but then I'm up at 2:00 am and feel horrible by the time I get to work. I wish I had kids, but that's just another thing I didn't get in life. I'm sure one day I'll figure out why God's plan wouldn't allow me to have either parents or children, but till then I borrow the neighbors' kids as often as possible. Only they are a bunch of bad eaters, too!

[nightingale2u 42]

I don't think I have ever been one to hoard food... but from a very early age food became a source of comfort and eating an effective way to deal with anxiety. If I was thinking about food... I didn't have to think about all of the complicated and dysfuntional things going on around me. I also developed a great talent as a closet eater... I never overendulged around other people... I binged privately.

I don't know if my relationship with food has really changed or if the band just keeps me from acting on old urges to binge. I still tend to try to get in that "one more bite" even when I feel full and know I should stop. I have learned to throw the remaining bites left on my plate away because I know there will be room for them if I just wait a little while. Anyhoo... so... I think it took me years to form all of these eating habits and responses to food... it will probably take a good number of years to alter them... hopefully the band will just keep reminding me in the meantime.

[Iluvharleys 15]

It use to be as soon as I finished one meal, I was always thinking what am I going to make for the next meal. I think food was always on my mind. I never hoarded food but I always took that extra bite or two even if I was stuffed. I could be full and be going down the road and smell something and get some of it. NOW.....I don't think about food all day long, if I want something that I know is not really good for me I stop and ask myself if I really want it, if I need it, if I am really hungry, and if I say yes, then I eat it. I have always believed a little of something isn't going to hurt you, it is when you deny yourself for so long that when you finally take that first bite, you can't stop. I never deny myself anthing, I just choose to have it or not. It just seems as long as I know I can have it, I don't care if I eat it or not, I can make that decision. I use to make fun when someone told me they forgot to eat, but now it happens to me sometimes. (Usually my belly growls loud enough to let me know) I forget to take things out of the freezer to cook when I get home. I forget it is getting late and I haven't even started supper. My hubby usually asks me what is for supper? So, I guess I can say that food has affected me in a positive way, it has made me stop and think before I eat or drink anything. I can also focus on other things besides food.

[Rebeccalee 2]

I used food to numb anxiety and depression. If your belly is busy digesting, there's less blood for your brain to work overtime. At least that's how it felt to me. I have to have a way to deal with my nervousness and overthinking. Exercise would be good, but food has always been easier.

Now I try to keep busy with hobbies and activities. It works most of the time.