Yesterday I met a delightful woman, and we sat in the quiet, sharing our food stories with each other. At some point, our conversation turned to grief. We began talking about the first layer of grief – the grief of letting go of overeating, of the ways food has cared for us.
Sometimes this grief is profound. It may be surprising that we feel sad about letting go of something like overeating or binge eating – for these coping strategies also cause us pain and suffering.
But we eat for a reason. And when we stop using food in this way, we face these reasons, and miss the ways food cares, soothes and calms us.
In my own life, there are so many ways I’ve run to food, almost like a child running to a parent when they need holding and comfort. Food has been my comforter, the warm arms that have helped me cope with life’s pain.
I remember a particular lonely and painful time in my life when I looked forward to night time. For then, I’d order a pizza, open a Diet soda, and cuddle with my food and a movie.
For a bit, the pain felt tolerable – even as I later felt shame for eating so much and for not ‘coping better.’
There comes a turning point in our healing journey when we yearn to change – when we recognize that our food habits, while well intentioned, are causing us harm. This turning point is powerful and sacred. It also brings us to a crucible: where we face the prospect of letting go of food.
And this brings us to grief. As we let go of our good friend, food, we move through waves of sadness, anger, frustration, and grief. When I think of my own grieving with food, I’ve had to grieve so many things –
- that I can’t eat whatever I want
- that I can’t eat as much as I want
- that I can’t control my body
- the easiness of food – I open the package, and viola! It’s there.
- that the food doesn’t really work – it doesn’t really give me the love I’m needing
- and that my actions matter – my food choices impact my health and well being
But the most tender grieving is for my mother, food, and the way she has brought comfort and warmth to those neglected, hurting places.
Underneath the grief of letting go of food, there’s the grief we all encounter as we face the pain that the food has been protecting. This can bring us to our knees, and can open our hearts. We can see things about ourselves that we hadn’t quite seen before. We become more connected to the pockets of fear, neglect and hurt that have lived in our bodies, waiting for holding.
This is healing, but it also hurts. And so we grieve. As my dear mentor, Dr. Neufeld said to me, we need to shed the tears to “fill the hole where food usually goes.”
This grieving process takes time, needs support, and can be so tender. Without our protector, food, we feel the ache and hurt of these places.
Grief takes courage and strength. I highly recommend getting support for this stage of the journey – a listening partner, friend, loved one, or therapist. It needs space and room – grief does powerful work for us. And it needs kindness.
I’ll end with this poem from the sublime Andrea Gibson. Their poetry brings me to tears and helps me welcome my grief. I hope it does the same for you.
You might feel inspired to make a collage, journal or write your own poem about the grief in your astronomer’s lens – the grief that’s been soothed in food. This can help nurture and move the sadness of grief. As I wrote this letter to you, I felt an image come to meet me – food as a literal comforter, a warm weight, a blanket wrapped around my body.
Is it no wonder that food has been our home?
Grief Astronomer by Andrea Gibson
A difficult life is not less
worth living than a gentle one.
Joy is simply easier to carry
than sorrow. And your heart
could lift a city from how long
you’ve spent holding what’s been
nearly impossible to hold.
This world needs those
who know how to do that.
Those who could find a tunnel
that has no light at the end of it,
and hold it up like a telescope
to know the darkness
also contains truths that could
bring the light to its knees.
Grief astronomer, adjust the lens,
look close, tell us what you see.
Image credit: This is a collage I made to represent the scared ones inside, and their longing for safety and understanding. These are the ones that have been held so tenderly by food.