Redheaded Jill

I was thinking yesterday about how often I used food as a reward when I was a kid. (And I say “I” because I don’t think this was taught to me, I think I took sometime I enjoyed and turned it into a bigger deal than it should have been.)

When I was little food was the ultimate comfort. The ultimate indulgence. I have never been tempted by drugs or alcohol, but I have been a slave to food.

As a kid I would be overcome with love and affection for my family when they told me we were going out to eat. I would get so excited. My favorite was Arbys. I would knock on my parents door and say, “I love you!” All because of food. I need to unpack that in therapy. Why did I only feel comfortable expressing my love when food was involved? Super weird.

Also, I tried to use things as a bribe to get food. I wanted to “earn” going out to lunch on Sundays. I always took notes on the sermon and would slip it to my dad after church. “Hey dad, I took good notes. Can we get hamburgers for lunch?”

When I was in elementary school I had to get braces. After orthodontist appointments (because I would be so incredibly SORE) my mom would let me choose. I can either go into The Palace (a gift shop next door to my orthodontist) and get a beanie baby, or I can go to DQ for ice cream. I remember the day I first chose ice cream over a beanie baby. I remember the surprised look on my mom’s face. “Really? A blizzard over a beanie baby?” Maybe that should have been a sign that I was destined for weight struggles.

I’m not sure what the lesson is here. Maybe that using food as a reward/discipline system is dangerous. Or maybe that with the proper tools to express ourselves we won’t fall into the trap of addiction so easily. I’m not sure, but I’m happy to be figuring it out after 30 years.