Fighting a jar of Skippy.
I thought it was strange when Jennifer told me she spent all of Thursday in her jammies, on the bed, with a jar of crunchy peanut butter and a spoon. “Okay, I guess, whatever works!” I chuckled back.
Then she told me her therapist told her to do it. What the hell?
1) What a cool therapist!
2) Why? Jennifer struggled with binge eating! How is bingeing on a jar of Skippy a good idea?
3) What should I nosh on wearing my striped flannels while skipping macroeconomics next week? I may need to prepare with a Walmart run.
While my experience with therapy and working with a dietitian in college was a complete disaster, Jennifer’s seemed to have really helped! Granted she and I had nothing else in common either except for walking a lot around the lake. Her brain never seemed quite as ‘stuck’ as mine to begin with, likely because she (quite literally) fed it.
Jennifer didn’t look like she had a struggle with eating. Most of us who cope with life through food, don’t. It’s the same for a lot of mental illnesses that manifest in secretive, often shameful behaviors. And, like many of us, when she got stressed, she turned to eating her comfort foods… a lot of them.
For most people, a chocolate or glass of Chardonnay goes a long way towards settling the nerves. A hearty bowl of chili warms our souls as much as our bellies. And everybody knows that chicken noodle soup is the only true remedy for a cold.
Comfort from food is something instinctive to all humans. Food brings life, a feeling of groundedness, connectedness with caregivers and loved ones, and a sense of nourishment.
Since we were babies: hunger -> distress -> crying -> get food -> feel better.
Furthermore, the attachment between emotions and sustenance is strengthened and encouraged throughout our lives in many ways. A combination of meaningful memories, traditions, and culture around meals and celebrations, and the reduction of cortisol with nourishment all contribute to this natural phenomenon. Food is one of many ways we self-regulate our emotions.
So then, why doesn’t it always work that simply? Why can’t some of us eat one brownie, feel happier, and get on with our chore list?
Three words: guilt, shame, remorse.
Somewhere along the way, if this resonates with you, you likely received and filed away a few messages:
How you eat reflects who you are… good or bad.
You shouldn’t eat unless you are physically hungry.
Giving into cravings equals a lack of discipline.
When we don’t understand this innate relationship between food and comfort, it can be easy to be critical of this kind of eating reaction to distress. We judge ourselves harshly, reprimanding ourselves and regretting our choice of coping strategy. After all, society says that that “stress eating” means you have a lack of willpower.
So when we meet the emotions with food to offer comfort, rather than appreciate the warmth and contentment offered by the piece of chocolate cake, we are flooded with even loftier emotions of regret and angst over what we’ve done. Should these feelings arise in lieu of the satisfaction we craved, we most often choose one of two options:
We compensate and punish our behavior by restricting at a later time or by “burning it off” by some form of exercise.
We take a black and white approach and say “screw it, I’ve already messed up so may as well keep going”…. Usually followed by option 1.
Whichever is chosen, the result is still additional distress, compounding the initiating negative emotions. Comfort is sought yet again, a “cheat food” is reached for, and the cycle of shame repeats itself.
***As a side note, if the body and brain are malnourished, cravings and respective “binges” are actually a sign of body wisdom! The brain has an uncanny ability to override even the fiercest of determinations when it senses danger. A lack of energy is a serious danger to the brain- it pulls out all stops! Read more on homeostasis here.***
Anyone who struggles in this way will tell you that you feel absolutely powerless- as if the sugar cookies (or Skippy) controls you. But in reality, a snickerdoodle is merely a round, semi-solid combination of sugar, flour, butter, vanilla, cinnamon, and eggs.
Back to my friend Jennifer-
She had always loved peanut butter. (I personally can’t stand it. I think this is genetic as my dad hates it too.) And she loves it to this day. But by ritualizing her Skippy binge that Thursday instead of attending lectures, giving it absolute approval and relishing in the satisfaction of every bite without a care in the world, she took back that control. She made it a choice, and owned it. Rather than living anxious that one bite on a spoon would end up in scraping the jar with a specially-shaped spatula, she developed an accepted bond between her desired comfort and her purposefully chosen jar of crunchy spread.
Without the guilt, the shame, or the remorse, peanut butter became just… peanut butter: her favorite comfort food. And one or two spoonfuls satisfied that itch every time thereafter. Just like with any other muscle, when we exercise our choosing muscle, it gets stronger and we become more powerful.
There is a good bit of wisdom to be learned from the bond between a person and their confections. Cravings don’t come out of nowhere. Dig around a bit, and you’ll unbury whatever rocky emotions need sifting through, or nutritional imbalance needs correcting.
But in the meantime, let a comfort food be a comfort food. Without any stigma attached, there will likely be leftovers for next time.
