The Great Big Empty Hole
Oct 19th, 2009 by heidi
This morning I brought pumpkin bread in to work. One of the volunteers who attends my mom’s church brought it yesterday and there was a little leftover, so my mom gave it to me. I don’t know who made it…but something about it isn’t quite right. I’m sure someone else would find it delicious but for some reason this recipe isn’t quite my thing.
Even so, I’ve had two half-slices (it’s cut into half-slices, you see). The first one was unsatisfying. I ate it because I felt that need, that weird desire that I get to fill the great, looming hole that opens up inside me at random moments. It isn’t hunger. I know that. It’s just a need for something and in the absence of knowing what that something is, I’ll try filling it with food.
Anyway, I had the first slice and it wasn’t right. I still needed something. I realized I didn’t much like that first slice but, you know, just in case I had to try another slice and make sure. I could spend the whole day doing this. That, my friends, is the heart of my disordered eating…there is a Something in there. A lonely child, a fearful teenager, an unfulfilled adult. That empty hole, that at the bottom holds rage, fear, loneliness, anxiety, and goodness only knows what other emotions in a swirling, terrifying maelstrom gets covered up by that pumpkin bread, even if it’s only for a minute and not really to my taste.
Plunging into that hole with what seems like a very frail rope seems both frightening and pointless; yes, this is one of those exciting things I discuss with both my therapist and nutritionist but it frequently seems like an exercise in futility. The thought that there could be a day when that gaping cavern is gone, filled with something more meaningful and less empty is almost entirely unbelievable. This loneliness has been a constant friend (not a good friend, mind you, but always reliable) for as long as I can remember and letting go of that familiarity, even if it is a painful familiarity, is a terrifying leap into the unknown abyss.
I threw away the rest of the pumpkin bread, by the way. There was a lump of baking soda or powder in it that I didn’t want to inflict on any colleagues (well, maybe a couple, but you can’t exactly go and present them with a slice, can you?!) and really, it wasn’t doing anything for that emptiness within. I guess it’s a step, seeing that the hole is even there. Filling it up with something other than food is, however, too scary for me to face just yet.
One step at a time…
Ah, but that requires patience. I’m really, really bad at patience!
Today after work I went and bought three new pairs of shoes that I didn’t truly need, along with two sweaters that I only kind of need. They’re all good buys for not much money, but that’s not the point. I was using retail therapy to try to fill up the hole inside, the one that echoes with fear and loneliness and this conviction that I’m just not Good Enough for anyone to stick with me in the long haul.
So yeah. Sometimes it’s food with me too. And other times it’s shoes and clothing.
Here’s hoping we both find what we need to fill that hole someday…
I suppose one of the benefits to being fat is that it’s so damn hard to find clothes in my size that look good that I have to invest far too much effort in that kind of retail therapy!
My retail therapy tends to be books and cross-stitch projects. The number of stitching projects I have kitted up pales in comparison to many but is really quite appalling. Maybe we should have a stitching swap someday, when we’ve both got time!
I haven’t allowed myself to buy a project in several months but I can feel the niggling itch of *needneedneed*
wow your post got me thinking. i used to share the same perspective about my eating being disordered. many a therapist would tell me that there is some suppressed emoitional secret that if fully understood would lift the cravings away. I spent many a year trying to figure out what it was that made me crave so much food all the time. I totaly relate to taking a piece of cake I don’t particullarly like just for the sake of eating. two or three years ago, I decided to stop fighting the cravings and eat anytime, anything, and any amount I wanted to. I decided to accept the additional health risks of being fat, and I looked to make a happy life for myself fat. it has been a intersteng road. I found the Fat Acceptance Community and the HAES community this year. anyway… now if something doesn’t taste good, I don’t eat it. I am incorporating, slowly, intuitive eating into my eating. I try to eat vegges and fruits (not always successfully) and I am determined to be happy. I am not telling you this because I disagree with your perspective, as I once held it. I just feel a real sense of relief not labeling my eating disordered anymore and just trying to be as healthy as I can with the freedom to eat anything I please.. so far it feels like the right thing for me.
best, ivan
I think the process of intuitive eating works differently for everyone. For me, I’ve been doing a non-diet approach (i.e., eating everything I wanted without guilt, at least for the most part) for over six years now and, while I don’t binge the way I once did, I’m at the point where I truly do have to deal with the emotional triggers that caused what is, for the most part, emotionally-triggered eating. I recognize now, generally, foods I do or do not like but there are other emotions that impel me to eat even when a food is not exactly what I want, or when I know very well that I’m not physically hungry but trying to fill an emotional hunger.
I suffer from depression and have for most of my life. I think that for those people who don’t have mental health issues, intuitive eating is a much faster process than it is for me. It’s actually a huge relief to realize that I *do* have disordered eating habits and that it’s okay, because those eating habits have saved me from far, far worse ways of dealing with my depression and associated emotional problems. It’s going to be very healthy for me in the long run to look at those painful childhood experiences and work through them…it’s just crappy in the short-term.
I totally respect that you’ve had a different path and I’m glad that has worked so well for you! We all come from very different places and have had experiences in our lives that make us very different people – just as we in FA accept that there’s no such thing as “just do X and you’ll lose weight!” we have to also accept that there’s no such thing as “just do X from the Fatosphere and you’ll be perfectly happy”, I think.
I re read my post and I see it sound a little anti-therapy and I am all about therapy… it is the secret at the bottom of the tunnel theory I don’t think applies to me and if it does, I think that me thinking it doesn’t is a more peaceful place for me today.
i agree with everything you wrote.. and i didn’t mean to discount all the therapy I have gone through. I owe a great debt to many of them, especially my Dear Dr. K here in nyc. I have been in awful depressions, worked through a variety of abuse stuff, and what I have found is part of my path out of depression was to take a no judgement stance on what I ate…
hooray for the blogs and the internet as it allows us this communication…
I wonder when i will find a way to fill this hole, Ive had it long enough for it to have become a part of me – an unwanted part. Im not fat and i dont know how i found this website but i do know that I dont want to be sad any longer. Life isnt as beutiful as the books say.
Mark – There’s a lot that’s beautiful out there. It can be a struggle to find but is worth looking for. Find yourself some help – best of luck in your own journey!