Food and the Move

I haven’t written about food for a while. Partly because I’ve been doing really well with relaxing around it; and partly because my mind has been addled by other things. Food is, however, back on the agenda at the moment, and yet again, it’s linked to ‘the move’. I think this move might throw up a lot of skeletons in the next few weeks, so I apologise in advance…

I live on my own. Before I lived on my own, I lived in rehab for nearly three years. Before that, I shared a flat with some friends at uni and ended up spinning out of control; and before that, I was at home, which became irreparably tainted by how I behaved there with food.

Living on my own has given me complete control over food. At first, the control was warped into binging; but, for the past two (wow!) years, it’s been used to manage needing to eat. This is a distinct improvement, given the alternative, but it means that I’m still quite rigid with my meals. I cook everything from scratch, know exactly what goes where, and rely a little too heavily on things like scales to make food feel okay.

It sounds bad, but it’s the first time since I was a child that I’ve eaten three proper meals every day. I’ve got a routine that works and, okay, it might be a little isolating and, yes, it sometimes present a few barriers but, ultimately, it’s meant that I’m standing strong today.

Next week, I’m moving. For the first month, I’m staying with relatives and, hopefully, during that time, I’ll find a flatshare where I can stay more permanently. I definitely won’t be in control for the first part; and I have absolutely no idea what will come after that.

And so I’m scared.

I’m really scared.

I’m scared that it will be uncomfortable, and that I will have to confront the foods that I would normally manage to avoid. I’m scared that I won’t be able to check what’s going into what, and feel okay with what’s on my plate. I’m scared that the fear will get in the way of the adventure, and I will end up obsessing around calories instead. I’m scared by the sheer number of variables on the table… and I’m also sad. The relationship I’ve developed with food over the past few years isn’t that healthy, but it’s made it bearable to move away from the close ties we previously had.

I am not very good at giving up control.

I have held on to it with an iron fist ever since I got ill. If it has been taken away from me, than I have fought like a banshee; and, if I have given it away in a moment of desperation, I’ve always found a way of wrestling it back. The last few years haven’t been as destructive, but I’ve always been totally in the driving seat and I’ve never let anything – or anyone – wriggle their way in –

Only this is more important.

I am prepared to give up this control if it’s part of my future and necessary for my move.

I’ve just no idea how it’s going to work out.

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2 Responses to “Food and the Move”

  1. Evan says:

    Control is a big thing- being able to care for ourselves and so on. I’m wondering if the relatives know something of your relationship to food, and if they are willing to do some things – like let you know what is going into your food.

  2. Christine says:

    Dear Melissa,

    your fear is very recognizable. I am going through the same thing, only for me it is because I will live together with my boyfriend from October onwards and start a job outside the city. This will mean I will have to give up control over food such as letting him decide and prepare evening meals and giving up sport which has always provided me the comfort (like you with scales). At the other side of the world (Italy), I understand your fear but it somehow comfort me that there is somebody out there who can put this fear into words and thereby enabling me to acknowledge them and move forward. For the future, for me and my loved ones. Thank you.