Day
Yesterday's assignment was about the past, and perhaps it gave you some aha moments. Today we move to the present as we begin to explore the connection between food and feelings, between stimulus and response.
It's not what you're eating; it's what's eating you. In my days of recovering from binge eating disorder, I heard this again and again. What was it that caused me to put food in my mouth when I was not physically hungry? I ate when I was sad, anxious, ashamed, and afraid. Whenever I had an unpleasant feeling, I wanted food to push it away, to sedate me. When I was angry, I often chose crunchy foods like potato chips. When I felt lonely, I chose sweets.
Many people are quite new to thinking about and identifying their feelings. Since I was very much out of touch with my emotions when I began recovery, I had a difficult time with this. I grew up in the 1950s in what was mostly a positive family. That might sound nice and enviable; however, there was no space for any feelings other than happy ones in such a family. At age four, I felt very sad and abandoned when my father changed jobs and became a traveling salesman. He was sometimes gone for weeks, but usually he left on Monday morning and returned Friday night. As a little girl, I expressed my feelings to my mother, and she would say, “Oh, no, honey, you don't feel sad.” Or, “You shouldn't feel sad—you'll be getting new toys and presents.” Or, “Here, honey, have a cookie and you'll feel better!” The message came through loud and clear: It wasn't okay to feel unhappy.
I quickly discovered that food could push away disagreeable feelings and alter my mood, and that's probably when my compulsive overeating began. Since I was so out of touch with my feelings, when I filled in any kind of food-mood chart, I often left the Feelings section blank or filled it in with the word hungry. Hungry, though, is not an emotional feeling.
When we were children, big feelings were so large and overwhelming we thought they'd kill us. Now, as adults, we might still be thinking that the big feelings will annihilate us. But they won't. They cause pain, maybe. Death, no.
Assignment
You're going to create your food-mood diary today. Write the following words across the top of a blank page:
Every time you eat anything for the next twenty-one days (yes, just one bite of something counts), fill in the chart. Below is an example of a chart for one day:
To get you started, here's an easy-to-reference list of some of the uncomfortable feelings.
Many other feelings exist, too, and are often connected to these major ones. Worried and anxious, for instance, are forms of fear; depressed and hopeless are types of sadness.
This gives you the general idea; now you can set up your own chart and begin to fill it in. If you are reading this in the afternoon or evening, it is perfectly okay for you to start now—it doesn't matter what time of day it is. If you are able, review your day to include earlier meals and snacks, thinking about what you ate and, if possible, what the feelings were as well as the precipitating events. If you can't identify the feeling or the precipitating event, leave the space blank. Do your best, though, to fill in the chart as completely as possible. As you go through this book, it will become easier for you to recognize the stimulus (precipitating event) and to track your corresponding emotions.
I had been very uneducated about identifying feelings, and you might be in the same boat. Also, since emotional eaters use food to not feel, it might be very challenging to complete this chart. But don't worry about that right now. Fill in the chart to the best of your ability.
A side note: One of my pet peeves is hearing someone say, “I was bad—I ate such and such.” What we eat has nothing to do with our moral character. If you do eat such and such, it just means you may have made a poor choice in food—it does not mean you are a bad person! When we judge ourselves as bad or naughty around our food, it sometimes propels us to eat even more.
Day
You are reading this book in order to stop emotional eating. Unless you allow yourself to feel your feelings and work through them, it will be very hard, if not impossible, to refrain from compulsive overeating. As you continue writing in your food-mood diary you will begin to recognize triggers. (In chapter 5, you will learn ways to dissipate the feelings and minimize the triggers.) Journaling is a way to encourage your feelings to come up, feelings that you've been running from. Use your notebook to create a personal journal for yourself and begin writing on a daily basis. With awareness can come change.
Many of my clients have told me that writing was one of the most important tools for getting them in touch with their feelings. Sometimes our conscious minds say one thing, but when we begin writing, we might be blown away at what comes forth. Journals are private, for your eyes only, and they allow you to express your emotions honestly.
Through writing, you can begin to explore some of the slippery feelings that are hard to define; you can clarify your feelings for yourself; you can have an emotional release. You will discover firsthand that when you discharge the feeling, the food craving disappears. Yes, that's right. When a feeling is bottled up, it can lead to food cravings or the need to fill up by compulsive overeating or bingeing. Once the emotion is released—by writing about it—the need for food subsides. It is quite amazing to experience this.
Journaling is also a great stress-management technique. You can write whatever you want and, as they say, let it all hang out. The journal is just for you; make sure you keep it in a safe place. Research has shown there are health benefits to journaling—it improves cognitive functioning, strengthens the immune system, lessens stress, helps clarify thoughts and feelings, and opens the way to understanding oneself better.
For many years, I kept a journal with my private thoughts and feelings. Many times I started a page with “I don't know what to write about today.” But within a few minutes, my pen was gliding along the page, leaving a trail of words in its wake. When I allowed myself to feel whatever was bubbling up within me, I allowed the words to spill out on the page. I didn't care about spelling or punctuation, I just let my hand keep writing and writing until I felt spent. Spent, but happier. Writing was very therapeutic for me.
When I began journaling, I was afraid of examining my feelings. I had just started psychotherapy with the unspoken intention of figuring out why I was compelled to eat so much, and I was seeing my therapist twice a week. But my emotions had been pushed down for so long that I felt like Pandora's box—I was concerned that if I accessed those long-suppressed feelings, I'd never be able to close them off again. I feared touching into that dark pit of emotions would open me up too much and then our session would be over and I'd be left alone with my raw feelings. So instead of facing my feelings for the first time on someone else's schedule and with an audience, I went home after each therapy appointment and wrote in my journal. I wrote . . . I cried . . . I wrote some more . . . I cried some more. Each week I took my journal with me to my therapy session and read my tear-stained entries. Although I never allowed myself to cry during a session, the therapist and I talked about my feelings, and I received valuable counseling about what I had written.
Now as a psychotherapist myself, I have the opportunity to read and discuss clients' journals with them. Here is an excerpt from Lisa's journal. I shortened her