Food and Guilt

I am very proud of myself. Why? Because I made dinner. For me. For only me. And I ate it by myself.

I'm sure that doesn't sound like much of an accomplishment for most people, but for me it's major. Since my boyfriend is out of town, I've been living off of soup, and cereal-- things that I get full from without any effort on my part. I love to cook for other people, but my eating disorder has convinced me for years that if I went out of my way to cook a meal just for myself that I was some sort of greedy fat ass. I really had it ingrained in me that eating when no one else is around makes me weak. Oddly enough, eating in front of other people also made me weak. So what did I do? Not eat, of course. When I first started recovery, I ate only because it was forced on me. I ate only when others were looking. I did it all for them. I did it all so they would shut up and leave me alone. I had an understanding with myself that yes, eating was stupid and only weak people did it on their own with no one looking. My God, how wrong and delusional I was! We have to eat in order to live. Pure and simple. Eating is natural. It is as natural as breathing or sleeping or drinking water. Our lives cannot be sustained without food. So there's really only two options-- eat or starve. Live or die. I know some people become life-long anorexics. They eat just enough to get by, but I would by no means call that living. A life with anorexia is not a happy life. It is not the life we were meant to have. It is not the life we deserve to have.

I have to realize that I am just as hungry and eating is just as important whether there are 20 people here or whether it's just me. There is no crime in cooking myself a meal. Period. I refuse to let my eating disorder make me feel guilty!

In the past when my boyfriend has been out of town, I've been known to wrestle with myself, torn over whether to cook or not to cook. More than once I've taken out a cutting board, a knife, thrown a pot on the stove and dropped vegetables into it only to have talked myself out of eating by the time the meal is ready.

Not tonight.

I made a vegan burrito. It sounds simple but I did it all from scratch-- sauteed some peppers and onions, made some rice and black beans with cilantro and lime, a homemade pico de gallo, and guacamole. I also added some nice crunchy lettuce and fresh corn. Oh. My. Goodness. And I ate the entire thing.

And I'm not crying or feeling anxious or beating myself up over it. I don't feel ashamed. I don't feel angry. I don't feel like a failure, or a fat ass, or anything else my eating disorder would have me believe that I am. I'm not sorry I ate. I am a little bummed out, however, about all of these dirty dishes.

If you're reading this, I hope you've eaten something. Or that you're eating something now. Or that you'll eat something after. Something good. Something nutritious. Something satisfying.

Food should not equal guilt.