IT’S A CATASTROPHE!

People, let me assure you, I am an A Grade catastrophiser. I have it down to a fine art. Not only can I turn molehills into mountains, I can turn little green caterpillars into fire breathing dragons.

Catastrophising is like really advanced worrying. We all worry – it’s unnatural to have nary a care, ever. Worrying can provide us with the opportunity to find potential solutions to potential problems. It is a way of mentally preparing for things that might reasonably be expected to happen.

CATASTROPHISING IS JUST THE NEXT LEVEL UP

It is apparently associated with chronic pain, depression and anxiety, and fatigue. I don’t experience chronic pain – except for my slow healing Achilles tendinopathy. But I do experience depression, anxiety and fatigue. I’m not sure if my catastrophising is a learned behaviour or just the way I was born, but either way, I’m really good at it.

I used to be an eternal optimist – always looking at the bright side and hoping for the best. But slowly, somewhere along the way, I learned that hoping for the best doesn’t always bring the best. So I started to practice preparing for the worst. And I have to say, usually, the worst-case scenario does not come to pass and then I have the opportunity to be both surprised and relieved. Which are happy outcomes but in the meantime, I imagine all the disasters.

Catastrophising is anxiety-inducing and for me – illogical. I don’t have anxiety about my health, so I don’t really worry that a chipped toenail will turn into a brain tumour. But I do have anxiety about other people – their well-being and my interactions with them. I want the best for everybody. And when I do something, I want to do the best I can and make things as smooth and easy for others as possible. I spend a lot of time worrying that other people will become unwell (or die) or that I’m not going to be ‘good enough’ for them. Whatever ‘good enough’ actually means.

I DON’T THINK THESE ARE UNREASONABLE DESIRES

Caring about the welfare of others is surely not a bad thing. Is it? But with my natural tendency to amplify worry I become very anxious about doing the right thing. And as part of that anxiety, I imagine all the wrong things that can happen. ALL the wrong things. Like every single possible thing that could go wrong in a situation. And then I try to problem-solve all these worst-case scenarios and proceed to draw more tragedy from the already non-existent problem.

If, for example, I am catering for a dinner, I will agonise over the decision as to what to cook. So many things could go wrong. And I will have so much agony over the decision that I will end up at the point of deciding that it’s all far too hard and I had probably best cancel dinner.

I won’t actually cancel dinner. And I will do my very best to present a vaguely edible, non-allergenic, not-poisonous, congenial meal. But my heart will pound for a day and I’ll be terrified of the embarrassment. Especially terrified of the possibility of running out of food. At least, that’s what I used to be like.

NOW I HAVE DIFFERENT SKILLS

One of the upsides to being diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder is that I have received psychological support – which I have attended for many years now. And as part of my therapy I have learned to – a lot of the time – deescalate the catastrophe in my head. To try and gain perspective.

Part of my perspective-gaining strategy is to actually look at the worst-case scenarios and decide if they are: a) even plausible, b) potentially solvable, and c) can I survive it.

So at my worst-case scenario dinner party I try to remember that: a) I’m not going to accidentally poison anyone, b) I can always over-cater to ensure I don’t run out of food, and c) resign myself to the fact that no matter how well the dinner party does or does not go, the sun will still rise tomorrow.

In DBT (Dialectical Behaviour Therapy) terms, I’m: a) fact-checking, b) problem-solving, and c) radically accepting the situation. And I do all this inside my head. Quite quickly sometimes. These tools are very useful for genuine real-life problems (how to deal with a bill you can’t pay) as well as those fire breathing dragon-caterpillar problems (everyone will get food poisoning at my dinner party).

PERSPECTIVE FOLKS – PERSPECTIVE

It is easy when worrying – be it about the weather, traffic, health, travel, relationships, work, finances, what to watch next on Netflix – to let the small become big. And then to let the big get bigger.

The thing that works best for me is to write. Write, write, write. I have a journal full of pity-party worst-case scenarios that I have put in perspective simply by the act of writing. I know writing is not everyone’s cup of tea but I love it.

Some people like to talk – it is a most useful therapy. That’s what therapy actually is – talking about shit and getting a handle on how to deal with it. Talking things through can deescalate the silent conversation going on inside your head. I find talking a lot more difficult than writing. Just knowing I have to talk to somebody brings out my fire-breathing dragons. But I will be the first to acknowledge, once the talking is done the flames have usually been doused.

Some people like to engage in self-care activities that help them to mentally gain perspective – hiking, bubble baths, pet therapy, art. There are as many options as there are people. It’s a silent conversation with yourself that looks at all possibilities – not just the terrifying ones.

Let it be known, however, that whiskey, sleeping tablets and corn chips are not recommended as long-term strategies. There are as many maladaptive options as there are people, so a little bit of self-reflection doesn’t go astray. If your coping strategy is aimed at making you emotionally numb, then perhaps it’s time to crack out a pen or phone a friend.

The vast majority of catastrophes in my life have never come to pass, and those that have – well, I have survived them. And the next disaster that I dream up will also pass. Probably quite smoothly and if not, I will be okay anyway.

ONE FOOT FORWARD

I’m taking one foot forward – literally and metaphorically.

At the end of September, I saw an advertisement by the Black Dog Institute (good job marketing team) about an October challenge to raise awareness for mental health research. Given my five years of mental illness, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to dip my toes in the challenge waters.

SO I HAVE SIGNED UP FOR ONE FOOT FORWARD

I have challenged myself to walk 100 kilometres over the month of October and in return, I hope people will sponsor me to raise funds for research. It’s fourteen days in and I’ve walked 66 kilometres and raised $649. I have to confess – I’m pretty chuffed with the support. My initial fundraising goal was $250 because I figured finding ten people to donate $25 seemed like a big ask. But that was quickly met so I upped the ante and went to $500. Met that goal so now I’m aiming to raise $750. Secretly I’m hoping I can get to $1000 but I don’t want to disappoint myself just yet.

To anyone reading who has sponsored me, Go you! You are awesome.

But the challenge is about a lot more than just raising money for (very important) research. It’s about raising awareness but more importantly, for those of us challenged with mental health issues it’s about finding the incentive to get out there and do some walking.

So that is what I have done. Walked.

Past waterfalls and coastlines, mossy rocks and seagulls, scenic vistas and steep muddy steps.

I AM BACK OUT IN NATURE AND I AM LOVING IT

For so many years I walked regularly – usually from my front door to the end of the beach and back. It was a well-worn path that was approximately six kilometres and took 52 minutes almost every time. Or thereabouts. As the years passed by I added bushwalking to my list of favourite things to do and I started hiking up mountains and past disappearing tarns. Watching the echidnas and the galas and the painted gum trees as I went. Blue skies, drizzly days and softly falling snow all perfect opportunities to immerse myself in nature. It was a soothing balm to my deteriorating mental health.

Then I became more unwell. And I broke my ankle. Then I developed acute Achilles tendinopathy that would not respond to any treatments. I kept climbing mountains. And then I could barely hobble from the bed to the bathroom without pain so I had to stop.

I know, I know, I know. All you people who told me to stay off my broken ankle were probably right. I fucked it up. I thought sitting still and doing nothing was impossible. Once I couldn’t walk properly I learned I’m actually very good at it. And this has become a problem.

I have become so used to sitting on my butt doing nothing that all the good health in the world makes no difference – I still sit on my butt every day. I think I might be getting bedsores.

When the One Foot Forward challenge came along it really inspired me.

ON FRIDAY 01 OCTOBER IT POURED WITH RAIN ALL DAY DOWN HERE IN HOBART

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have even considered stepping outside the front door for anything more than the most urgent of tasks. But I’d signed up for the challenge and I’m nothing if not committed to following through on my word. So I put on my raincoat and headed out. I walked my six kilometres to the beach in pelting rain. My hair was drenched. Shoes soaked through. Pants wringing wet. My raincoat at least protecting the top half of me. I returned cold, soggy, exhilarated and proud of myself. I immediately had a warm shower, put my pyjamas on and stayed snug and dry for the rest of the day. It took two days for my shoes to dry out.

There’s been quite a bit more rain in the month of October – welcome to Spring in Tasmania – but I have walked most (not all) days and clocked up enough kilometres to keep me well ahead of schedule for now. I’ve even found walking buddies and that is awesome. People want to support me by not just sending some hard-earned cash, but by joining me on 10-kilometre hikes in the bush. I love it. A bushwalk is so much more enjoyable when there’s someone to share the beauty of nature with you.

I’m starting to have issues with fatigue – which is a cyclical thing in my life and not to be dismissed. It can become crippling. And for the first time yesterday, I had a reoccurrence of my Achilles pain. Sixty-six kilometres in 14 days might be pushing the recovery at the moment. So as the rain clouds descend over Hobart once again I’m going into a self-imposed three-day rest. Just to be sure I have the strength and energy to complete the rest of the challenge.

I HAVE NOTICED SO MANY BENEFITS TO REGULAR WALKING

My mood is better. I feel more connected to people. There’s a sense of accomplishment. I feel happy when I’m walking. I’m even sleeping better most nights (nothing short of a miracle). So it turns out the Black Dog Institute is right – walking regularly and getting out in nature is good for you not just physically, but psychologically.

I know it’s a balancing act. Over-exercising has been an eating disorder behaviour in the past and I don’t want to return to that. But the solution is not sitting on my arse all day drinking cups of tea and feeding imaginary chickens. Just like food, exercise is a vital part of healthy living and recovery is about finding healthy ways to manage them – not give them up altogether.

This challenge has come along at just the right time for me. I will take a couple of days rest because I feel it’s sensible, then I will lace up my walking shoes and head back out into the bush, tallying the kilometres while soaking in the beauty of Tasmania’s greatest asset – the great outdoors.

IT’S IN THE PIPELINE

If you’ve known me for more than about five minutes, then you probably know I’ve written a book. It’s been an intense labour of love and like most labours, there have been some painful moments.

MY BOOK IS CURRENTLY AWAITING PUBLICATION WITH KOEHLER BOOKS

I was pretty excited to finally find a publisher. I have a hybrid publishing deal which means I pay some of the publishing costs upfront but I earn a higher royalty. There are way more details but that’s kind of the summary.

Due to 144 awesome people I was able to crowdfund enough money to get my book up and running and off to the publishers. And so here I sit, patiently waiting and waiting for my very overdue baby to birth!

Due to the massive global inconvenience that is covid-19, the release date of my book has been pushed back to 04 January 2022.

While I confess to being pretty sad when the date got pushed out, I’m bravely reminding myself that 04 January is only 96 sleeps away. So that’s not too long, right?!

In the meantime, the exciting part of the process has finally started. The editing. The editor has put her cap of expertise on and I’m in the process of reviewing all the changes. Good news – most of the changes are commas and hyphens so while tedious, it’s not difficult and not too time-consuming. There has been one major change however:

THE TITLE OF MY BOOK HAS BEEN CHANGED TO “TOO GOOD TO EAT”

I hope you like it!

After the editing comes the graphic design. That is the bit I’m really excited about. Can’t wait to see what my baby will look like. Then there’s typsetting and fiddly bits and bobs and then, it will be 04 January 2022 and I’ll be cracking open a bottle of champagne to celebrate the arrival of all my books. That’s the plan anyway.

I have a mailing list where I try to keep everyone up-to-date on book happenings. I don’t send out many emails, because let’s face it – who wants to be spammed? But if you’re not already on my email list and you’d like to stay in the loop then drop me a line on my contact page and I’ll add you to the email list. I give you my solemn promise that I do not spam. And if you know anyone who would be interested in hearing about my book please let them know they can be added to my mailing list. That way you get to be first in the know with all the goings-on.

While we’re waiting, here’s a little quote from the end.

Self-love is an act of compassion and acceptance. To come home to myself requires self-love from my chipped painted toenails to the roots of my greying hairline. I choose to come home. To take the hand of the little girl who was never good enough in her mother’s eyes and say, You are enough. Right now. As is. To squish her to my breast and meld her to my heart. Complete healing. That is to come home to me.

Too Good to Eat

Also, if you’re not yet following me on Instagram I would absolutely love to see you there! Just search for @simoneyemm and you’ll find me. Sharing bits and bobs about life. Come and say hello!

THE INS & THE OUTS

I am an internaliser.

I am going to go out on a limb and suggest that most people fit into one of the two categories – having an internal or external means of processing emotions.

I will also go out on a limb and suggest that neither way is better than the other. There are pros and cons to both and like most things, there are degrees.

AND I AM A FAIRLY EXTREME INTERNALISER

This hasn’t stood me in good stead. My ability to talk things over with other people is at best, terrible. In my own defence, I have got better over the past five years. Prior to that, I didn’t talk about my emotions at all. Like ever. Never ever ever. Everything was buried so deep that I didn’t know I experienced emotions. I just thought I was a cold heartless person who happened to care deeply about other people.

I know. That sounds like a contradiction. I am a contradiction.

But internalising emotions is something I learned as a child. I am not a researcher so I do not know if it is inherently a nature or a nurture thing but at the end of the day, I am now 55 years old so the origins of my internalising is somewhat of a moot point. It is what it is and I am what I am.

One thing I am not is a tree. I can get up, move and make change. So since my spectacular fall from grace – repeatedly – I have been learning to externalise my emotions and that is primarily done through writing.

For those of you who naturally externalise perhaps you think it’s cheating – share all my innermost thoughts on a public blog but never divulge these thoughts when I’m face to face. Well all I can say, is that it’s the best I can manage and it has taken an enormous amount of work and courage to get this far.

WATCHING EXTERNALISERS HAS NOT INSPIRED ME

I notice people. As do you. We all notice. And seeing people externalising emotions has not always inspired me to want to do the same. Some people have a quiet conversation where they muddle through the thoughts in their head or have a cry or express their worries or excitements or fears or dreams. I wish I could be like those people – vulnerable and courageous.

Some people explode with emotional intensity, raining their distress around them, for all and sundry to catch and absorb. I am extremely good at catching and absorbing people’s emotions so extreme externalising can cause me extreme distress. Which I, in turn, internalise.

The thing I do notice is that people who externalise – whether a little or a lot – seem to be able to move on from that emotional intensity quite quickly. It’s like vomiting up the contents of your stomach. Once it’s gone it’s gone and life goes on. Except the internalisers in the immediate vicinity have soaked everything up.

For us internalisers, that vomit can pool and poison us from the inside out. It often feels like there is no outlet and there is an exponential build-up of worry and fear that has nowhere to go. That is when maladaptive coping mechanisms often originate. Overeating, drugs and alcohol, self-harm, gambling, shopping, binge-watching television, gaming, work obsession. Absolutely anything that provides sufficient distraction from the immediate emotional needs. It’s not healthy. I know that.

DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH COURAGE IT TAKES TO TALK THINGS OUT WHEN YOU’RE AN INTERNALISER?

I have tried at different times to talk things through. It is enormously anxiety-inducing – before, during and after. Many a time the fears I express are dismissed as inconsequential, exaggerated, irrelevant. Something that means the world to me may mean nothing to someone else. Telling me not to worry does absolutely nothing whatsoever to decrease my level of worry. Saying that the thing I fear is going to happen is really unlikely to happen doesn’t diminish my fear. I am usually aware of the probabilities – I am just afraid of the small chance, not the large likelihood.

My head is a very busy place and I am able to process a million different catastrophic scenarios simultaneously. In order to talk myself down from a complete nervous breakdown, I have to gain perspective and I almost always do it alone. And I almost always do it through writing. I have been transcribing journals from the last 12 months and I have 100,000 words. That is a lot of words. They are all the words I couldn’t say to you. They are all the ridiculous scenarios I would never voice out loud because even I know they are ridiculous – yet still, I worry.

Over the past five years, I have learned some of the subtle art of externalising. I have – in a small number of circumstances – divulged my emotional buildups in private conversations. They are few and far between and rarely repeated. Since I was a small child, I have had trust broken more times than I can ever count. But those rare conversations have also provided me with enormous clarity and I am grateful for those small moments of external emotional outlet. I can see how beneficial it can be.

I ALSO KNOW THAT WILL NEVER BE MY STANDARD METHOD

It is not in my nature – or from my nurture – to explode. I can, however, implode and that is something I need to be acutely aware of. Despite what I believed for 50 years I am an intensely emotional person and there has to be an outlet. That outlet for me is the written word. The infrequent posts I share with you, my anonymous reader, and the frequent journaling I share with nobody but me.

Emotions impact every single one of us and the way we deal with these emotions – regardless of whether or not other people think they’re valid – is a key aspect of good psychological health. In the process of my recovery from mental illness, I have had to learn how to process emotions and not just swallow them whole and hope to never see them again.

WORLD SUICIDE PREVENTION DAY

It’s World Suicide Prevention Day. A very good day to talk about suicide.

On 02 March 2020, I took an overdose. It wasn’t the pinnacle of my life experiences – I gotta admit. It was indeed, the rock bottom. But as has been pointed out to me on numerous occasions, once you’re at the bottom there’s nowhere to go but up. And up I have come.

It’s so hard to describe to people the darkness that enveloped me. I was so very, very ill. I knew I wasn’t okay and every day, with tears silently streaming down my face I would say, No. I’m not okay. I was drowning in a giant well, filled with black oily swill. I didn’t know what to do. Nobody knew what to do. In hindsight, I needed to be in hospital before the overdose, not after.

CAPTAIN HINDSIGHT IS A LOVELY CHARACTER WHO IS NEVER THERE WHEN YOU NEED HIM

On this very important day of global awareness, I want to talk about a subject that is often taboo and misunderstood. I wrote about it in great detail back in 2016 – when my suicidality began in earnest.

Let’s be clear about a few things…

Suicide is not selfish, or attention-seeking, or even a choice. It’s the culmination of intense psychological pain over time. It’s the decision to let go of a burden so heavy your knees have been buckling for longer than you can recall and you just want to finally put it down and rest.

Suicide is often not a rash decision. The actions might be impulsive and spontaneous (for me they were not) but usually, the thoughts and desires have been there a long time. Building and building. It’s called suicidal ideation. And it’s no fun at all.

After the ideation comes the planning. If you or someone you know has started planning, get help. Get help now. Professional help.

THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH FRIENDS AND FAMILY CAN DO

I made the very grave mistake of leaning heavily on some friends and not articulating my emotions clearly to the professional support I had. I felt safer talking to friends but at the end of the day, friends aren’t qualified to offer the support needed or recognise the severity of the situation.

I’m also very bad at articulating myself. I unpack thoughts through writing and journaling but with the spoken word, I’m tongue-tied and confused. It’s painful and difficult to talk about myself. The best I could manage was to say I wasn’t okay. That was a huge admission on my part. Given the number of people shocked by those who follow through on a suicide action plan, I feel I’m not alone with an inability to express that dark desire. There are often no words to express that pain.

As a result of leaning so heavily on people, I’ve damaged and lost relationships. That’s the biggest and most painful cost of my suicide attempt. Something I regret so intensely. If only I’d had the words to talk in therapy and not burden the people I loved the most. I am so, so sorry about that. And so sad.

People often want to know why – why did I let myself sink so low that I had no choice but to drown. I can’t speak for other people who’ve been down the same path – I’m sure we all have diverse and unique experiences. For me, it was a melting pot of circumstances. Undiagnosed and untreated bipolar II disorder. Critically severe insomnia. Medication making me worse, not better. A life that had spun out of control. And five years of chronic suicidal ideation.

YOUR EXPERIENCE MAY BE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

Why someone becomes suicidal isn’t the point. The fact is, they are. Feelings are valid – all feelings are valid. If someone feels like their life has no meaning, it isn’t helpful to point out all the things to be grateful for. That invalidates very real emotions.

For anyone out there struggling with suicidal ideation, there are three things I want to say.

First – and most importantly – wait. Wait a minute, an hour, a day. Just don’t make a permanent decision in this temporary moment. Read this letter. I want you to stay. I want you to be here. And I’m not alone. Loads of people are grateful you exist. Send me a message if you want. I always reply. I care.

Almost as important, get professional help. Connecting with loved ones and talking about how you feel is fantastic. Talking and connecting are part of the human condition. But friends and family aren’t qualified to know what to do. That’s a job for professionals. Seek help. Here’s the link to crisis support again. Please – take a look. It could save your life.

Lastly, This Too Shall Pass. It sounds so trite. I repeated that phrase to myself for five years. I continue to not only repeat it to myself but share it liberally with everyone I know. After a lot of intense psychological therapy, the lesson has really started to sink in – things do pass. The worst feelings in the world pass. They may not pass quickly and they certainly won’t pass pleasantly but they’ll go. As Winston Churchill so wisely said, If you’re going through hell, keep going.

PERHAPS IT SOUNDS LIKE HYPOCRISY

After all, I did attempt suicide. I held out for five years then I succumbed. It wasn’t a good idea and people were hurt by my actions. During my two month stay in the psychiatric ward, I journaled almost every day. It’s a stark reminder that recovery from a suicide attempt isn’t a walk in the park. I felt utterly alone and rejected and abandoned. Was that true? I don’t know. But feelings feel bad even if they’re not based on fact.

I feel like a crystal vase that smashed to the floor and I have to crawl around on bare hands and knees looking for the pieces while the people I love look down and say, well you did it to yourself, get your shit together.

27 March 2020

That was 18 months ago. Now I’m much stronger. I feel strong. Sometimes I’m really depressed or anxious. Or I struggle with purpose. Sometimes I feel like I can’t cope. But sometimes life is joyous and wonderful and I’m surrounded by loving friends and I have things to do and places to be. My life is filled with all the things your life is filled with. I’m never suicidal anymore. I haven’t been since I left the clinic in May 2020. Regular sleep, mood stabilisers and ongoing psychological therapy have turned my life around.

On World Suicide Prevention Day let’s develop empathy for those who struggle and if you’re struggling, hang in there and reach out. One day at a time. We can do this.

DIET CULTURE

I follow a lot of eating disorder recovery accounts on Instagram and there’s much talk about diet culture. We live in a diet-cultured society.

Before I express my highly uneducated opinion I want to clarify the confusing difference between diet, diet and diet.

1. Noun: the food and drink usually eaten or drunk by a person or group:
Diet varies between different countries in the world.
Rice is the staple diet (= most important food) of many people in China.

2. Noun: an eating plan in which someone eats less food, or only particular types of food, because they want to become thinner or for medical reasons:
I’m going on a diet next week and hope to lose ten pounds before Christmas.
A crash/strict/calorie-controlled diet.

3. Verb: to limit the food and/or drink that you have, especially in order to lose weight:
You should be able to reduce your weight by careful dieting.

DIET | meaning in the Cambridge English Dictionary

I have a diet (1.) – even if it’s restricting, binging or any eating disordered behaviour. People with no diet soon die. I want to talk about the other diet words – consciously modifying how you eat in order to lose weight.

THIS IS A SENSITIVE TOPIC

There’s a good chance you – my lovely reader – have been on a diet. You don’t have to have an eating disorder – now or ever – in order to engage in dieting behaviour. I’d hazard a guess that most of western society has dabbled in a dietary plan. Statistics show more than 50% of Americans are on a diet at any given moment. While people who are genetically (or environmentally) vulnerable to eating disorders can be triggered by dieting, most people don’t develop eating disorders.

Also, most people who diet don’t maintain loss. And there’s evidence that constantly losing and regaining weight has long term health consequences. The $72 billion weight loss industry, however, really does benefit a lot from all of us dieters out there.

There are two things that make me ponder the wisdom of diets. The first is the obvious temporary nature of weight loss, which can bring all sorts of distressing emotions when (for most of us) the weight returns a year or two later. But secondly, our image-obsessed society makes us want to diet away perfectly healthy bodies.

A CONNECTION BETWEEN WEIGHT AND HEALTH HAS DEVELOPED WHICH IS QUITE OFTEN BLATANTLY UNTRUE

People with smaller bodies can be unhealthy and people with larger bodies can be very healthy. And the reverse may be true. For most of us, there’s no correlation between weight and health. Health is more related to regular (non-obsessive) exercise in combination with the first definition of diet – not a restrictive, controlled method of eating, but the lifestyle you’re accustomed to. We all know that living on chips and chocolate won’t lead to a healthy lifestyle. But nor will eliminating chips and chocolate. Anything “banned” can become a mind game where we have to white-knuckle to avoid the so-called “bad” food. (Note… there’s no such thing as bad food.)

SO WHAT EXACTLY IS A DIET?

Well, as stated above, any eating plan that targets weight loss by removing particular foods, following prescriptive diets (meal plans, shakes etc), counting something (calories, carbs, macros, points), skipping meals or any behaviour that seeks to overcome natural body cues.

The healthiest way to eat is to feed your body when you’re hungry and stop feeding it when you’re full. At any hour of the day. Identifying satiety can be difficult to learn but as old dogs, we can only but hope to master new tricks. Satiety should be coupled with a wide variety of foods and nutrients, without a weight loss goal. In modern-day times we call it intuitive eating – although that’s become a bit of a buzzword being picked up by the weight loss industry to make even more money.

The principles work by either cultivating or removing obstacles to body awareness, a process known as interoceptive awareness.

What is Intuitive Eating? | Intuitive Eating

Intuitive eating seems the most natural way to eat. It doesn’t mean stocking up from the confectionary aisle and working through bags of crisps every evening. A lot of people fear that letting themselves eat what they want when they want will lead to binging and poor health but studies show the opposite is true.

Part of intuitive eating is (should be) acknowledging emotional eating and addictive or habitual behaviours and dealing with the underlying issue. Stress, anger, fatigue, etc. There are a million non-food-related reasons people eat. Emotional eating isn’t in and of itself a bad thing – we all do it and after a really stressful day, a doughnut and a nice hot cup of tea might be very soothing. Twenty doughnuts and a bottle of tequila won’t be soothing in the long run.

THE IMPORTANT THING IS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE EMOTION

This has been a big contributor to my eating disorder – emotional numbing. Which I’ve spectacularly achieved in a myriad of ways, including overeating or starving. In order to attain the holy grail of intuitive eating, I have to feel the emotions.

For me, disconnecting body dissatisfaction (an emotional issue) from my daily food intake (a life-sustaining and potentially enjoyable behaviour) is a work in progress. I need to work on the first and embrace the second no matter how uncomfortable it makes me feel. I’ve mastered intuitive kindness, complaining and crying, I can get intuitive eating under control. Right?

Eating should be enjoyable – whether it’s satisfying hunger, socialising, appreciating something delicious, or comforting the end of a bad day. The Japanese have a most delightful word we could embrace in the west:

KUCHISABISHII: When you are not hungry, but you eat because your mouth is lonely.

Kuchisabishii – SEEKAPOR | an Educational Companion

Instead of dieting to lose weight to achieve a body I was never genetically predisposed to have, I can keep my mouth company with a nice bowl of porridge for breakfast.