I’m a little bit obsessed with food. By that, I don’t mean I do nothing but eat, but I’m obsessed with when I eat and what I eat. It doesn’t always stop me from eating stuff that’s bad for me, but still. This general food obsession is probably little surprise, given my health anxiety and also the OCD tendencies that I mentioned on a previous blog.
But I think much of my ways with food have come about from my upbringing. My mother, bless her, has always been somewhat over-protective about how much I’m eating and moreover, when I lived at home, dinner was always at the same time. I remember once my dad apologising once for dinner being made for 5:51 instead of the conventional 5:45. I told him not to worry, although made a joke that I had nearly died from malnutrition.
Consequently, dinner time has never really been a relaxing affair, and instead has been rather fraught over the years. And any diversion from this routine almost puts my body into shock, especially when you do factor in the health anxiety.
So this dictatorship in my upbringing, if you will, may have resulted in my main problem that I have with food, and that is, eating it anywhere other than at home. Or more specifically, eating it when I feel under pressure to eat it. Food, for me, has always been something that you have to do, rather than something to enjoy. If you had the choice as to whether you could eat or not, I believe that the vast majority of people would still choose to eat. I, on the other hand, would not.
My main ‘fear’ about eating out is about people around me noticing that I’m not eating whatever it is in front of me. It’s one of those really annoying vicious circles that anxiety is incredible at developing. It’s like a circular reference, for those of you familiar with Microsoft Excel:
Various factors make me struggle to eat out
|
I struggle to eat
|
I worry that people are noticing I’m struggling to eat
|
I struggle to eat more due to rise in anxiety
...and so the circle is exacerbated until I basically eat nothing, the food goes cold and the waiter whisks my plate away from in front of my nose.
Various circumstances dictate how bad this is. The number of people I’m with, who I’m with, where I am, what I’m eating (or not), the number of people generally in the restaurant, external environmental circumstances such as temperature, how tight my trousers are (seriously)... and just generally how I’m feeling from a physical perspective.
So what exactly happens? Regardless of the final outcome, I’m nervous about a meal out for several days beforehand, and it can be on my mind for months if it’s planned a long way in advance. Then, in the worst case scenario, I struggle in the painful bit between arriving at the restaurant and the meal being served with trying to keep it together, trying not to make the person/people I’m with notice that all is not well. It’s like trying to stave off a panic attack.
Then, when the meal arrives, it takes me ages to eat every mouthful. My mouth has gone dry, so I try and rectify this by drinking something in between, which, unless it is water, isn’t very effective. I struggle to breathe too; obviously, breathing deeply can help alleviate anxious periods, but when you’re mouth is occupied by eating and your nose is occupied by sinus problems (another factor to throw into the mix), then this is obviously difficult.
I basically over-notice how much the people I’m with have eaten in comparison to me – surprise surprise, usually much more – and then that makes it more difficult. It varies, but I usually get through about a third to half of a meal before I have to cease.
Unfortunately, the easy option was avoidance, which of course meant that my social satisfaction was reduced. I explained the situation as best as I could to my friends who I did eat out with and they understood to the point where we only went out for a drink instead of for tea, but it’s depressing when there’s a meal, such as a work do, from which I have to excuse myself.
Somehow I have managed to avoid eating out, bar the odd picnic and buffet, for about eight months. I’m in too deep to rectify this problem with one successful meal at a restaurant though now; it would take months of eating out 3-4 nights a week to overcome this totally absurd and ridiculous fear.
But then, that’s anxiety for you. I’m off to cook tea.
Best wishes
Al
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