The Love of My Life?

I was sitting in front of my computer, another rainy Saturday. I found myself alone, with a cup of tea, scrolling through my photo library.

Somewhere, buried within 14,756 photos, I saw a woman. I saw the evolution of life. I saw the life that I built, maybe, without even realizing it. The faces of my family, my friends, almost every meal I’ve ever eaten alone, or with someone, plated and cataloged. I could feel the love come back to me through the computer screen. Ice cream cones held up to the sunset with the Hell’s Gate Bridge, faded, in  the background. Queens, my home. For so long.  

The longer I sat and scrolled, the more my love for cooking came beaming through every tap of my mouse pad. I welled up, my eyes heavy with water. I said out loud “This has been the love of my life. It’s been food.” Food and I have had a fucked up, supportive, artistic, tortured, good with the bad, easy to do alone, easy to share, tumultuous love. In every food photo a memory recorded in time. When I looked at any food photo, I instantly knew how I felt in that moment, whether or not I binged alone, and how someone broke my heart or how I really broke my own. A story in every single photo of food.

Food has been my rock, my old love, my new love, my modern love. I think I’ve avoided writing this because it’s somewhat embarrassing to think I’ve never been in romantic love but my God have I romantically spoon fed myself Nutella from a jar or eaten cake batter like it was the last ounce of love I’d ever make or receive. Emotional and compulsive eating are strange like that, you know? Even after losing nearly 160 lbs. With the food there’s love, hate, indifference and wanting to walk away forever - like I imagine two people must feel during marriage, after kids and when the kids leave. Food has been my marriage. In ugly ways and in beautiful ways. I’ve known it’s pain and empty jars of peanut  butter, sitting, sinking, down my throat, sticky, and eventually sliding down into my stomach. Finally, settling in guilt and shame. I’ve known it’s pleasure as well as I’ve known its pain. No relationship is ever perfect and my ongoing love with food is no different. 

Addictions are hard to overcome because their a behavior we teach ourselves for protection based on traumas. And food, well, it’s the most accessible addiction. Easy to get and then you get the prize of wearing the addiction on you; displayed in tremendous growth, fat and looking unwell. Even after losing weight it’s hard to manage. We can live without alcohol or drugs, but food is not something we can live without. Well, maybe for a tiny bit, but not to sustain our lives and health.

My relationship with food is perfectly imperfect and, maybe, if you’ve never struggled with food - you wouldn’t understand. Although, I do imagine that the first call for many - when in stress, anxiety or emotion - comfort or calm - may be food because it’s always there. The bad boyfriend you can’t seem to unhinge from. I couldn’t have been the only one. Food has always been there for me, as a child, as a teenager, as an adult and post weight loss. We’ve always managed to come back to one another and work with one another to find support. In food and cooking I found love and a reason to share, a purpose - time and effort I poured into myself and every plate. 

But I also decided that I don’t want to give food so much power in my life anymore. So much emotion. I said, “Food has and always will be my love.” But as I make space in my world for changing my life, learning a language, making art that no one may ever see or know of, facing fears, personal growth through yoga, writing this to less than 100 of you who may or may not even read it - food has been there many times a day to let me know all will be ok. But I’m taking away its power as my love. There is real love in the world for me. But I still thank you, food. I let go of bad words, negativity, fear and anxiety around you. I may have overeaten you in joy and sadness, because emotions are life, but you no longer consume me and I no longer over consume you. In acceptance there is love. In the love of something that is deep, there is fulfillment. I choose to love myself more than you. I remove my deep love for you and make space for real love and connection. You’ve been my greatest lesson.