Long before this lockdown, I was stockpiling food. Not pasta, tins of beans, or tomato puree though - or whatever else is impossible to get your hands on these days.
I’ve struggled with disordered eating - namely Binge Eating Disorder - since my teens, and so what I used to stockpile was food to binge on. Chocolate, cakes, crisps - typically high-calorie, low-nutrition food, ready and waiting to become my comfort blanket when nothing else can soothe me. Hidden in bedside drawers, the car glove box, various handbags; there is always a stash somewhere for my time of need.
My disordered eating has been a dark cloud, hovering over my life at every turn. It’s affected my relationships, my work, my self-esteem, my body...everything. More recently, it’s something I carry around with me wherever I go, like a crumpled up receipt buried in the bottom of a pocket. It’s not the loudest voice in my head any more. It has become more of a companion; a small devil that sits on my shoulder, only whispering sweet nothings in my ear when my defences are at their weakest.
The lockdown situation has forced me to acknowledge my eating disorder in a way I don’t consciously do in everyday life. I am looking it in the eyes and trying to preempt its next move. My current state of precarious mental balance - not fully recovered, but not crippled by my disorder - relies on access to food, on not feeling restricted in any way, and being satisfied with what I do eat.
This pandemic has seriously uprooted my ability to achieve those things. Of course, it’s affected everyone, and I’m certainly not under the impression I have it the hardest in this strange and uncertain time. But my illness is one that is rarely discussed and poorly understood, even in the ED community, and the ways it’s showing up right now are so tangible and specific to this situation that I feel compelled to share them.
A few weeks ago, the panic buying from supermarkets was in full swing. As much as I stockpile comfort food, my fridge is always vastly understocked when it comes to fresh food, vegetables; stuff to make proper meals with. And so, despite me being far from in need, the past few weeks have seen me head to the supermarket and gathering much bigger hauls then I would normally. I couldn’t help but give in to the fear that - what happens if everything is gone, and there’s nothing left that I like? I’m a classic fussy eater, and my complex taste and texture preferences mean I’m very particular about my food. The thought of not being able to access those things sent my anxiety into overdrive.
Supermarkets are a triggering space for me at the best of times. There’s too much history; too many times I’ve wandered up and down the aisles feeling completely spaced out, torn between what I think I should buy and what I feel compelled to. They send me into a kind of dissociative state, until I get to the checkout and my heart stops at the amount I’ve spent. The social distancing measures that are now in place make the supermarket an even scarier place. My usual worries are now paired with an uneasy silence, fear about who touched the trolley before you, and fellow shoppers covering their faces with masks or scarves.
At home, once I’d gotten some food I liked in the house, I’ve been surprised by how (mostly) calm I’ve felt. I try to stay flexible in my meal choices, and eat as intuitively as possible with what I have. I don’t judge myself for anything I eat, and I’m not thinking about whether I’m going to gain weight during this period. I asked my housemate if she minded if we managed our food separately, so I could be in control of what I was having - probably an odd request to hear at this time, but one that she’s been extremely graceful and understanding about.
I miss takeaways. Some are still open, and we have had the odd pizza, but this situation has shown me how much I rely on them for comfort, and for ease. In a strange way, I might even be eating in a more balanced way now than I was before. It’s pushed me to realise that I can get by on food cooked at home, even if it is just from a freezer drawer. I’m hoping any positive habits I’m building now will stay with me when lockdown is lifted.
Has this pandemic made my disordered eating worse? I’m not sure - but it certainly hasn’t made it any better. At this time, I’m embracing whatever it takes to make me feel okay. That’s all any of us can do.
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