FINDING FOOD FREEDOM
I PREACH VULNERABILITY, yet I’ve skated the surface of something important, yet challenging. I talk about food frequently, but truth is, for years, I struggled with severe food anxiety. It was how I controlled everything, but actually, it was in control of me, until the last six years or so. It took a while to embrace the confines of my body, to love my own lines, Not defined by said shape or controlled by my own mind, to free myself from the negativity I bestowed upon me. I long suffered as a result of my own suffering. Not feeling worthy, pretty enough, wanting to be “Skinny.” Until I stood up for myself to myself, to begin my journey within, learning to love the skin I live in, and now why I preach self love so emphatically, because for all too long I hated me.
This is a reminder, You are not, I am not my body. It is simply the vessel that carries me but treating it with love, speaking to it kindly, creates a different energy. I am no longer defined by what the scale reads. The last time I owned a scale was junior year of college, but an eating disorder, wanting to disappear, never disappears, entirely. ED helpline calls rose 78% in 2020, likely related to the pandemic and lack of distracting, those suffering were forced to sit with their feelings.
If you’re suffering, I see you, I am you, You are me.
#throwback to a time when my life was out of line and I was purely defined by how skinny I was seen. If the scale hit past double digits, I would get weak in the knees, I was weak, regardless, physically and emotionally. I don’t follow “calendars” but was reminded of Eating Disorder Awareness Week and felt called to share my past struggles nutritionally. I didn’t know why I so disassociated from my body until recently, why I was starving, filling or emptying for years, starting as early as 14. I long thought it was “teenage insecurity,” a result of my middle school crush calling me the Budweiser Blimp, or my type-A perfectionist tendencies. But last month, in a plant medicine journey, I remembered what happened to me, something more violent, causing my devout self-hatred, why I started vomiting or starving to escape my own body. I want to shed light on an issue all too often glorified thru the digital screen, idealizing perfect bodies, creating false expectations of how we’re supposed to be.
I found exercise, Bikram Yoga, at age 15 – a way to connect physically but so easily abused if done excessively. No longer just starving but sweating in 110 degrees, as my insecurities stared in the mirror back at me. I abused anything I could to disguise the pain I was hiding, but no amount of sweat could rid my shame of how much I hated my own frame. I built an internal hell– existing not living, completely unwell. Operating on empty, consistently, like a Machine, feeling nothing while doing everything to distract me from me.
It took time and constant practice to shed the lines that used to define me, and instead of hate, now I celebrate who I am, choosing confidence over insecurity. Self love is my work, and my priority. Love the skin you live in, freedom is your opportunity, out of the mental agony. The inner critic, we all know in some capacity.
If you follow me on IG, You know I talk about food frequently, but today it is simply food to me, used to nourish, to fuel, my body, but I enjoy it consciously, because for so long it tortured me– Ironic considering I attended school post college for French Culinary. It wasn’t because I loved food, on the contrary -- an attempt to control what was controlling me. Many people who go into fitness or food can relate to extremes, Sweating professionally – many are starving until “cheat day” which in itself Is obscene. Or chefs stuck in dark kitchens who overdo everything: tasting, drugs, drinking, not to mention f*cking. Most of us, humans I mean, are addicted to something.
I was addicted to pain and suffering. Until I decided to dig underneath and define the feelings haunting me. After years of fighting my body, I committed to deep work, to build a healthy relationship, out of purgatory, by simply limiting my limiting beliefs and recognizing that no amount of sweat or self pity, could make me love me. I had to dig deeper, I had to WANT to be seen. Am I cured? There is no cure. I am and will always be healing. Now cognizant when and if I am filling instead of fueling, with food or thoughts: when I find myself grazing – grabbing a craving or – the alternative, excessively sweating, to rid or mask myself of some guilt or burden I’m carrying. I’m conscious of my wounds but present in my body, Different everyday, and while I’m not my body, it carries me. So I feed it with love - be it food, thoughts, or company - if i care for it, it will care for me. I changed the way I valued me when I stopped hating the reflection staring back at me, no longer defined by this external meat suit that carries me Rather embracing all of me— heart, soul, energy, Building a home to live in that I love and loves me. A never ending discovery of how to keep listening, internally. When negativity strikes, I strike back proudly, choosing confidence over insecurity, forever choosing me. If you’re suffering: I see you. I am you. You are me, but
home isn’t where you are, but who you are. Get cozy.
Learn you to love you, Love always, Olivia
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