The Tyranny of Free Food

I'm pleased to share an essay by novelist JoAnna Novak.  She is the author of I Must Have You (Skyhorse Publishing, 2017) and also Noirmania (forthcoming from Inside the Castle 2018).  I’m thrilled that she has contributed to Make Peace With Food.  Here's a peek into our conversation about her work.

Dr. Nina:  JoAnna, can you share what inspired you to write this essay?

JoAnna: I attended an orientation recently--it was a morning thing--and the host brought bagels. That reminded me how much pressure even the presence of food can create for someone with an eating disorder.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that I'd skipped many, many, many orientations just to avoid negotiating this particular stress.

It's a stress that always makes me feel guilty, too, because of course many people would be grateful to be given food; that guilt sort of exacerbates the stress, which is really what I was trying to capture in this essay. 

Dr. Nina:  I think a lot of readers on this blog can relate to those feelings of guilt and stress over food.  Please tell us about your new book.

JoAnna:  I Must Have You is a novel, a coming-of-age story set in 1999, in the aftermath of the heroin chic craze, long before anyone was talking body positivity.

Chronicling three women's interconnected eating disorders, the book is about middle school, girl crushes, anorexia, drugs, first kisses, and hunger--hunger for friendship, hunger for solvency, hunger for a firm grasp of one's self.

Dr. Nina:  Thanks, JoAnna.   That hunger for connection to self and others is something that so many people try to fill or express with food.  What I appreciate about your essay is that it’s a rare glimpse into the actual experience of dealing with food:  thinking about it, ruminating, obsessing and perseverating.   It’s a powerful piece and I think it will resonate with lots of people.

TRIGGER WARNING!  This essay describes food in detail and may be triggering.

The Tyranny Of Free Food 

by JoAnna Novak

I don’t want the mini Danish with its gluey bull’s eye. The bready, pre-sliced bagel, cut-side shining its hole up at the fluorescent lights, ringing a tub of cream cheese flanked by plastic knives.

I don’t want to do communal fruit, a spree of honeydew, the jelly packets, Welch’s or Smuckers or Sysco, the butter bonnets, the honey sticks, even the coffee poses questions: decaf or regular, the organic regular or the fair trade regular, cream or milk or soy, sugar, raw sugar, splenda, the green one, the blue one, the stirrer, the scald of exposure when there are no lids and the person standing next to me, a familiar face who, in this context, wobbles like a hologram of a visitor from another dimension, remarks, “Huh. You take it black.”

 You warrior, you, I tell myself. You tough.

 But are you ninja enough to navigate free lunch? More pinwheels than a 1950s block party, wrap after wrap, salmon pink means tomato and mossy green means spinach and that undercooked graham cracker tone is whole wheat, a matte wrap rainbow to distract you from the fact that, whole, every one of those tortillas is calories-enough for a decent meal, and now here they are, the wraps, halved or quartered, or maybe they’re in thirds, and they sprout toothpicks wearing Christmas-light bright cellophane, which makes the whole affair a little trippy, not to mention fatty, what with the roast beef and the ham and the American and Swiss, slices thin as blotting papers in the roll-ups, which you must pick up with indelicate, ineffective, ridiculously gilt silver serving tongs. 

The iceberg salad. The spinach salad, dicey with turds of goat cheese. The fun-size chips and their fun-size bags and their fun-size crunch, an aural tattoo, marking you as a chip-eater, indulgent, fun, when they’re the only thing with a nutrition label in the room. 

You could take a brownie, but it would need salt, and if you salt your brownie you call attention to yourself, the incongruity of your meal, which, if it includes a brownie can’t include “real food.” You could take a cookie and pick out the chocolate chips or the macadamia nuts, but see “you could take a brownie.” See “coffee: you take it black.”

 Free food is supposed to be a gift, a grace, a sign that the world is not all business. It’s in the classroom, the boardroom, the backroom at funerals, at picnic tables, served poolside, in homes and offices.

You are supposed to be thankful. You are supposed to be tickled. You are an employee or a poor grad student subsisting on the myth of subsisting on ramen or a mourner or a daughter or a son or a boss or a volunteer at the literacy center downtown or an idle shopper at Whole Foods on Local Foods Friday.

 “Wanna try Spicy Mo’s Jalapeno Jack on a cracker?”

The only thing lonelier than navigating the minefield of free food is overhearing the way eaters demonstrate they are pleased by it. Their voices bounce with the enthusiasm of precocious child actors. “Mm, this is actually delicious!” “The vegetarian wrap is really good!” “I do love pesto!” “I have to have a cookie—ok, one more! It’s here, so I’m eating!”

You are supposed to appreciate the gesture. Have seconds. Take home leftovers. Fill up. If the food is free, it’s also over-ordered.

Because isn’t there always someone like you, like me? Someone who hears that the first hour of an event is going to be group breakfast—and skips that first hour? Someone who invents conference calls or urgent emails so they can postpone grabbing a plate? Someone with jumpy eyes, whose smile keeps wobbling into a frown? What’s the worst part? Skipping the meal and being alone as you sit and watch people eat? Taking the plunge and eating yourself?

That’s what no one tells you about free food: it’s not free. It’s not free of calories and, if you’ve had an eating disorder, it’s not free of stress. Because free food asks the eater to perform their diet. Who do you want to be to your colleagues, your new classmates, your fellow grievers? You eat nothing and stamp your hungry foot, plead some unseen meal that’s filling you up, say you’re not hungry. 

 You gobble a heap, the whole spread, and field comments about your appetite, your metabolism, your body, where do you put it, your sweet tooth. 

  You build a plate by meal plan, feel the hollowness of scant portions at a table of the ravenous, the regular, the relaxed. 

  You excuse yourself after and puke even if you haven’t puked after anything in years. You try to meditate in plain sight. 

  You make space for your mind to run laps around the dining room while everyone doubles up on dessert.

JoAnna Novak is the author of I Must Have You (Skyhorse Publishing 2017) and Noirmania (forthcoming from Inside the Castle 2018). She has written fiction, essays, poetry, and criticism for publications including Salon, Guernica, BOMB, The Rumpus, Conjunctions, and Joyland. She received her MFA in fiction from Washington University and her MFA in poetry from University of Massachusetts Amherst. She is a co-founder of the literary journal and chapbook publisher, Tammy. She lives in Los Angeles. ​  Find out more at www.joannanovak.com

The TRUTH About Eating Disorders

Recently I had the opportunity to sit down with Alex Wehrley of Focus Magazine.  We had a conversation about what eating disorders are - and are not!  Check it out!!



Interested in the book?  Get it here>>>  Food For Thought

Your Holiday Survival Guide

It's that time of year again.  The holidays are upon us.   Does that bring you joy?

Or dread?

Maybe you feel a combination of both happiness and anxiety.  If you feel conflicted about the holidays, you're not alone. 

Why are the holidays so difficult for so many people?

TV commercials and magazine ads start showing happy, loving, close families gathered over a table loaded with food.  Everyone is beaming and grateful for their wonderful lives. 

If that’s your reality, consider yourself lucky.  But for many people, if not most, that’s a fantasy world that’s not even close to reality.

If it seems as if everyone in the world is living a perfect Hallmark holiday life, full of peace, love and happiness - and then there’s YOUR family, that can be painful.

The contrast can be really difficult especially if you think the picture perfect image is how it’s supposed to be, and it’s just not.  

That’s upsetting, which leads to overeating or bingeing (or other forms of disordered eating) as a way to numb or distract from the pain. 

Or, because these families are often shown having meals together, eating, overeating or bingeing can be a means of “feeling” like you’re part of the picture perfect holiday family.  If you can't have the family, at least you've got the food.

And what about the food?

The holidays start with Thanksgiving (at least they do in the United States) and Thanksgiving is often referred to as “National Binge Day” – the whole day is a tribute to excess. 

You’re expected to overeat.  It’s even considered bad manners not to try everything on the table.  If you struggle with food, this can be extremely challenging.

Another problem with the holidays is everyone talks about food.  A lot.

Some relatives get offended if you don’t try everything.  Someone will say, “I know you’re watching your weight but you’re just GOT to try my pecan pie.  One bite won’t hurt you.  Go on, have some.”

And then there are the people who watch every bite they eat – and every bite YOU eat.

They say, “Oh, I shouldn’t have this.”  Or worse, “Do you think you should eat that?  Do you really need that?”

All this focus on food can lead to a lot of stress – you’re anxious, upset, and sad – and if you don’t have other strategies to deal with those stressful emotion, that makes you more vulnerable to using food to cope. 

So it can be a vicious cycle.  The key is to learn to express feelings in words, instead of behavior.

How do you stop the cycle?

People often think they are triggered by food but they’re not.  They’re usually triggered by situations and experiences that are painful or upsetting, and make them want to turn to food to cope – to numb, or distract from what’s upsetting them.

Start by asking yourself some questions:

What is the most difficult part of the holidays?  Food?  Family?  Lack of family?

  

Are you emotionally hungry, lonely, upset, or maybe even jealous?  

What is eating "at" you the most?

When you deal with and process those situations and feelings directly, you won’t use food as a coping strategy.  

What is my top survival tip for the holidays?

Be a social anthropologist.    

When you're watching and observing, you're not a participant.  Observing means creating some distance and that distance can be very illuminating.




Hearing your grandparents criticize your sister or brother or cousin, helps you see you learned to criticize yourself. 

When you realize that your mother apologizes for every bite she eats, you’ll recognize how you learned to feel guilty for every bite you take.

It doesn’t matter whether you celebrate Christmas or Hannukah or Kwanza, or nothing, pay attention to what’s going on around you.

What do you like about them?    What do you dislike?

What do you appreciate?   What do you wish was different?

Give yourself permission to hold the positive and negatives about others – it’ll make it easier to hold both about yourself.

When you’re observing others, you don’t feel as much under observation.  That makes you feel less self-conscious, and you feel better.  When you feel better, you’re less likely to use food to cope.

Add some gratitude!

It’s the holidays, and ultimately the holidays are about gratitude, so be grateful.  Think of one thing you appreciate; whether it’s a person or a situation, because hanging onto one good thing can keep you going when things are challenging.  

5 Questions & Answers About Anorexia

I'm pleased to re-introduce today's guest blogger, Dana Lise Shavin, author of The Body Tourist, a memoir about the six years following her recovery from anorexia nervosa.   Last year she wrote a guest post about her experience and it was so well-received that I'm thrilled to have her back.  

5 Questions for the Anorexic—and Answers

by Dana Lise Shavin

If you’ve been told you’re anorexic, then you’re familiar with the questions below.

Aren’t you hungry?

Yes. I’m starving—literally and literally. It is excruciatingly difficult to severely restrict calories and at the same time maintain an exercise regime designed to burn off what little I still allow myself, so that I can continue to lose weight.

I am never “not hungry” except for in the minutes just after I (guiltily) ingested a few calories. I have never lost my appetite, only my ability to appease it. Because malnutrition interferes with the brain’s pleasure sensors, what I feel in the presence of food is powerful hunger wrapped up inexorably with extreme anxiety about eating it.

Can’t you see how thin you are?

No, I can’t. The reason for this lies partly in the realm of physiology and partly in the realm of psychology.

Physiologically my body, having used up its reserve of excess fat, turned to my muscles and connective tissues for fuel, and once those reserves were gone, it went after the neurons in my brain. Compromised (read: shrunken) brain capacity means I have serious problems with concentration, emotional lability (this is why I cry a lot or am otherwise moody), and difficulty remembering facts and events.

It has also thrown off my judgment, impaired my insight, deregulated my impulse control, and even interfered with my understanding of consequences.

Psychologically, I can’t see how thin I am because I have linked being happy with being thin, and although the number on the scale shows that I am extremely thin, I don’t believe it because I’m not happy yet.

And rather than question my hypothesis, I conclude I haven’t lost enough weight. I also can’t see myself clearly because I am emotionally unstable and wrapped up in control issues centering around my family, my body, and my independence, all weighty issues (if you will) that are causing me tremendous anxiety.

Also, look at our culture’s celebrities and models! Thin is in, and the thinner the better, right?  In short, I can’t see how thin I am because my brain is not processing information correctly anymore, I am anxious and emotionally unstable, I have erroneously linked happiness and thinness, and celebrities are modeling extreme thinness as desirable. All of this is why you telling me I’m sick and holding up a mirror to prove it just doesn’t work.

I dieted and I didn’t become anorexic. Why did you?

The short answer is that dieting alone didn’t lead to my eating disorder. Anorexia is a complex disorder that arranges itself around the seemingly innocuous behavior of dieting to lose a few pounds.

While most people will not become anorexic as a result of dieting, those who, like me, are also struggling with depression (50% of those with eating disorders meet the criteria for depression) (source: National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders: ANAD), familial instability, a history of physical or sexual abuse, and/or who have absentee or weight-focused parents, are at a much greater risk for eating disorders.

Magical thinking also plays a role in the development of anorexia, whereby individuals who will become anorexic erroneously believe that weight loss insulates against pain, disappointment, and even death.

What will help you recover?

This is such a wonderful question, and one that will figure prominently in my treatment. First and foremost what must happen is I must be restored to a non-starvation weight, so that my brain can begin to function properly again. Without this, I cannot know that I am ill, and thus cannot begin to do the emotional work of recovery.

           

The second most important thing that will help me recover is posing this question to myself: Do I want to do this (i.e. starve, exercise myself into oblivion, live in the hospital or in my parents’ home) for the rest of my life? At twenty, despite my illness, what I know is this: I am unrelentingly hungry, always cold, and very lonely.

Losing weight has not dispelled my depression or won me more friends or a boyfriend, like I thought it would; in fact, it has pushed people away, isolated me, and made me MORE dependent on my parents: I’m unable to live independently because I’m a danger to myself.

Is this what I was going for when I set out to lose ten pounds? No. Is this what I want for the rest of my life? No. Is this what I’ll have if I don’t do the work of recovery? Yes, if I don’t die first. Because here’s a fact: eating disorders have the highest rate of mortality of any of the mental illnesses (source: ANAD).

What should I do if I think I, or someone I know, is in danger of becoming anorexic (or having any kind of eating disorder)?  

When I was 16, a friend confided that she had lost twenty pounds and couldn’t stop dieting, although ten pounds had been her goal. I called her mother. My friend was furious. But she got help.

There are professionals specializing in the treatment of eating disorders, and inpatient, outpatient and day treatment centers across the US. Getting help—for yourself or someone else—begins with your understanding that disordered eating can consume years of your life (at best) or, if allowed to go unchecked, can take your life.

If you are struggling with anorexic thinking—even if you’re of normal weight—make an appointment to talk to a professional. If it’s a friend or family member who’s suffering, don’t get into in a power struggle around food, eating, or weight loss.

You won’t get her (or him) to see herself clearly no matter how many mirrors you hold up. You will be of the most help if you invite her to talk, are supportive, and offer to make an appointment and go with her to speak to a professional. If it’s a friend and she refuses your help, tell someone else close to her (a parent, teacher, or spouse) what you suspect. If it’s your child, you must insist on treatment. Look into ANAD or the National Eating Disorder Association (NEDA) for help about how to proceed.

Dana Shavin, M.S., CPCC, is a certified professional life coach, speaker, and author of the memoir, The Body Tourist, about the intersection of her struggle with anorexia with her mental health career. 

Her book has been featured on the Remuda Ranch treatment center website, on Shape.com, and on the San Francisco Review of Books list. New York Times best-selling author Jacqueline Mitchard called The Body Tourist “…riveting reading, the biography of an illness as stubborn as the woman determined to kill it. Dana Lise Shavin can write with both hands, by turns comic and tragic, and always fiercely honest.” 

In addition to her long-running personal column in the Chattanooga Times Free Press, Dana speaks often about recovery and best life practices at both nondenominational and religious institutions and universities. She was a guest educator this past fall at the Meacham Writers Conference at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. Her essays have appeared in numerous literary journals and magazines including Oxford American, The Sun, and The Writer.  Her website is Danashavin.com.