A little child is riding her bike.
She falls off.
She skins her knee.
She comes running in the house, crying for her mother.
“Mommy! Mommy! I hurt my knee!”
“Oh, honey,” her mother replies. “I’m sorry. Here, darling. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Her mother washes off her knee and puts a Mickey Mouse bandage on it.
The tears stop.
“Here we are, sweetie.” She gives her daughter a hug. “Have a cookie. It’ll make you feel better.”
We learn, very early on, to connect food with feeling. We believe, from a very early age, that food can assuage pain. We learn that food can comfort us when we’re scared, soothe us when we’re anxious, cheer us up when we’re blue, and make us happy when we’re sad. But can it, really?
Is it really the cookie that makes a little girl stop crying, or is it the love of her mother?
Is it really food that gives us comfort, or is it the sympathetic ear of a friend?
Is it really food that soothes us, or is it a gentle hug from a spouse?
Is it really food that cheers us up when we’re blue, or is it a matter of changing our perspective?
Is it really food that makes us happy, or is it simply being heard and understood by someone who cares?
So many times, throughout my life, I looked to food for emotional satisfaction. I looked to food for happiness, comfort, joy, celebration, stress-relief, etc. Every emotion I had, good or bad, positive or negative, high or low, I used food to manage through it.
Then I heard someone talk about going to the hardware store for milk, which is what I had been doing most of my adult life. I had been looking at food for something it couldn’t ever give me. I had been going to the hardware store for milk.
Today, I continually ask myself, “Am physically hungry or emotionally hungry?” If I’m physically hungry, I eat. And I pay close attention to my feelings of fullness and satisfaction. And most of the time, I stop when I’m full. However, if I’m emotionally hungry, I know that no amount of food on the planet will ever, ever be enough.
Up Next: The Power of Curiosity
