31/10/2023
with .repost
・・・
Real talk: I still haven’t healed my relationship with food, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to.
For so long, I blamed my food. What I ate was the reason my cholesterol was so high. I told myself that. Doctors told me that. Pharmacists told me that. Friends told me that. People in my TikTok comments *still* tell me that.
And when I was extremely restrictive in what I ate, my cholesterol was at the low end of high. And that was such positive feedback for me. My hard work was paying off! I was medicine free! And my cholesterol was only a little bit high. I was like a normal person with high cholesterol!!!
Except I didn’t eat like a normal person. I ate like a bird.
Those eating habits had other negative effects on my well-being. My hormones were not firing like they should have been. But I didn’t care, because for once I felt like I wasn’t *completely* broken.
I’d chew & spit muffins if I wanted a taste. I’d allow myself one chocolate covered almond per day. I’d judge people if they put butter on their bread. Tbh, I’d judge them for eating bread to begin with.
Somewhere along the way, I got the diagnosis. I surrendered to medicine. I started eating fat again.
And at this point in my life, I eat like I’m healed. But mentally I’m not. I eat 80% heart healthy and 20% for my soul. And it’s all delicious; especially my “soul health” meals. I love eating food that tastes good. But mentally, with every bite of food in that “soul health” category, I silently shutter about the damage it will do to my arteries. But I keep doing it, because maybe, just maybe every bite will get me one step closer to a healthy relationship with food.
There’s gotta be a balance here somewhere — heart healthy food vs. hormone healthy food, indulgence vs. mindful choices. I imagine it’s easier for someone without FH to eat freely without worry.
I’m grateful for self control, I’m grateful for self-grace, and I’m grateful for medicine, which allows me to tiptoe my way towards that food freedom others have that I envy.
Cheers to progress. It’s messy, it’s uncomfortable. But its progress.
