Food as Friend?

In a conversation with a friend the other day, we were discussing how we turn to food as a way to deal with our pain (stress, boredom, depression, anxiety, loneliness, etc.) and I remembered a realization I'd had a few years ago - I eat because I am lonely. There is a hole inside of me, created by the notion that no one could ever know my pain, and built upon by loss, leaving a gaping hole in my soul. I fill the void with food. I feed it when I am sad, I feed it when I am scared, and I feed it when I am lonely (which, of course, is the love child of scared and sad). I eat because food doesn't judge me when I'm too lazy to get dressed and instead spend the day on the couch. Food doesn't hold back when I need comfort. Food doesn't leave me alone with my thoughts. Food doesn't leave me, period. Food is, and always has been, my most loyal companion.

In remembering this, I felt like I had once again stumbled onto this profound explanation, and, therefore, it would be easy to fix. But then my friend said something that explained the issue even better - and complicated everything: Food is more like one of those fake high school friends, the mean girl who smiles to your face, tells you you're her best friend, and then stabs you in the back first chance she gets. You adore her, you need her - even while you know she is going to hurt you.

This epiphany adds layers of complexity to the notion that food equals love. How twisted is my sense of love and comfort that I continually seek companionship from something that I know is only going to cause me pain? Do I think so little of myself that I believe it's okay to allow this?

The answer, it seems, is yes.

To be clear, I do not hate myself. At least not anymore. Like many people, my adolescence, and even my twenties, were fraught with the general angst of becoming, and it wasn't until recently that I've begun to embrace the person I've become...but that's a story for another time. The thing is, I've had some trauma in my life (much like many people I know) - a number of events that shaped how I perceived myself; relationships that tore me down to nothing but raw nerves, made me doubt my goodness as a human being, and my worthiness for love. I've come a long way in my journey to heal those wounds, but they're still there, and sometimes the jagged edges get torn open and the pain seeps out. 

It is that pain that holds me back, even as it guides me toward healing. It is that pain that seeks comfort, in any form that comes. It is that pain that mutters, I'm not worthy. 

I have lived nearly forty years making choices based on a twisted sense of self-worth, a need for immediate comfort and gratification (regardless of the consequences), and a deep-seated belief that I deserve this pain. All of these things have worked together to put me in a place of being uncomfortable in this body and knowing I need to make changes, but fearing a future without those sources of "comfort". How will I manage without cake to keep me company, without fast food to fill the void, without mindless eating to numb the pain? How will I stay grounded without these drugs, these salves? How am I going to function if I have to feel? How can I show the world who I am without hiding behind my weight? Will I be good enough, or will I fail, as usual, and turn back to food because it's all I have?

It's scary to be making choices based on how I want to feel later instead of how I feel right now. It's disconcerting to walk away from food, telling myself I don't need it, or it will only make me feel worse (physically and emotionally). I'm learning to choose with the long term in mind (because I love myself and I want to and deserve to feel good), and not the short term (because I hate my life, I hate myself and I just want to make this all go away). Is it easy? Yes and no. It's easier than I thought it would be, which I believe is a testament to how much I actually love myself. But it's also hard to break life-long habits, and I have moments when the pull is too strong for my new will, and I make a choice based on old beliefs. I'm learning to forgive myself, though, when that happens. I'm only human, after all. I'm not, and never will be, perfect. I'm okay, just as I am. 

I'm wondering if I should do something ceremonious to bid farewell to old "friends", or if by doing so I give them too much power over me. With every choice I make, though, I am letting them go. Maybe that's ceremony enough.