Eating is hard.
Sometimes, I lie and say that I’ve already eaten or that my stomach hurts so that people don’t expect me to eat so much.
When I’m put into hospitals I am always placed at the Eating Disorder table during meals, but no one has ever told me I have one.
I don’t eat sometimes, but other times I do. I heard them call it Disordered Eating in the treatment facility.
Disordered Eating, not Eating Disorder. I care about the difference.
I hate eating in the morning but I have to choke something down to make my meds work. I usually eat as little possible. Just enough to make my meds settle.
Mornings are unappetizing.
I prefer not to eat lunch. Sometimes I have crackers or an apple or yogurt, or some combination. I almost always have a juice box.
For dinner I eat a small to average portion of whatever has been made or ordered and I am expected to eat. By then I am usually hungry, and again I do need food for my night meds.
Sometimes I have dessert, because I just love dessert.
But eating is so hard. Looking in the mirror makes food look like the devil. And eating too much is like committing a crime. The guilt is palpable.
I know that I need food to be strong, to be healthy, and to overall be well. But it will always be a love/hate relationship.