Using food as medicine
Have you ever wondered if you were addicted to food or if you were using it for treatment of depression? I can recall early on in my teens taking food and sneaking it into my room to eat. It wasn’t because I was hungry it was more to quell the anxiety that I was feeling. The anxiety would come on during the day and at night I would treat it with food. I would also be eating to treat the anxiety of the day that was yet to come.
Getting caught sneaking food
I also remember getting in trouble for sneaking food in my room and leaving it there. There was one instance that I had left some jelly rolls under my bed that I had hijacked from the freezer the night before. It was almost as if I couldn’t fall asleep unless I had a full stomach that would settle me down. Anyways, the next day I was out doing whatever I was doing and our little miniature dachshund snuck into my room and helped himself to the jelly rolls that were still under the bed. From that day forward that dog would always search my room for food, just in case. I remember getting an earful from my dad about sneaking food and then leaving it in my room for the dog to get. As dog owners know human food is not great for any type of dog. Maybe he should have tried to figure out why I was sneaking food and not be so concerned about the dog getting it. I am not pointing blame as nobody really understood that amount of anxiety I was feeling including myself.
Another great sign is if you are one of those people who get downright mad when somebody took the last piece of pie, pizza, cookie, or whatever you were looking for. I remember many times trying to make sure that I picked my food first when it came to dinner to make sure I got the biggest or tastiest looking piece of meat. I had no qualms about finishing other people’s food that couldn’t finish their dinner as why should we waste good food. I didn’t know how to say no. If we had a treat like pizza or wings I made sure to grab some after everybody went to bed at night to make sure I got my fair share of leftovers. If I came home from school the next day and found that the leftovers I wanted had been eaten by somebody else it would just tick me right off. It would put me in a bad mood for most of the rest of the evening.
Looking back now I realize that I was using the food to medicate as it made me feel content. It would allow me to calm down to fall asleep and give me happy feelings I didn’t usually have during the day. It wasn’t because my parents didn’t love me or that I had a horrible childhood it was a chemical oops that caused the feelings of anxiety and depression. The problem was I wasn’t smart enough to realize that the food that so pleased my palate and provided me the comfort I was looking for was doing further damage to my body. After some time that food became the medicine I needed every day as I was now addicted to it.
Reading this back and looking at what I am putting out on my site for others to read, I feel ashamed. I am ashamed and embarrassed for not knowing better and embarrassed for not getting help sooner. I want this article to be proof to my readers across the globe that you are not alone, if you have had these feelings or recognize yourself in this article then get some help. I can only open up my heart and soul and share with you what I know and what I have been through to help others.