The enemy - Food
So when did food become the enemy?
I look at my plate each morning, noon and night and think - I must eat, because in order to live, I need food. But when I hear people talk about the pleasure of eating, of the joy of creating a new recipe, I just don't get it. I think, why bother? It's all the same, anyway, and I just want to shovel in the bare minimum and get it over with.
No more not eating for me. No more skipping meals or weaseling out of breakfast or eating half a sandwich and giving the other half away (like I did many times in Haiti). But to eat for fun? No way; that just doesn't make any sense to me.
So why am I writing about this very private matter in this very public forum? Because at some point in life, silence must be broken in order for healing to take place. And this is a start.
But eating for pleasure? That's going to take a very long time.
I find it ironic that in many ways, I still feel the same. I started this blog a few months after my first hospitalization for anorexia. I was still sure I was going to nail recovery within a year, and then move on and eliminate this blog.
And yet here I am, three years later.
Someday, I do hope to write that I am fully recovered and I am moving on. I thought it would be easy, but I really didn't know anything. But I do know that being able to write about how I feel has been a true gift, and so have all of you. I want to thank everyone who reads and comments and holds me up. I am eternally grateful for all of the support and the friends I have found through this blog. I literally wouldn't be here without all of you.