We All Have a Hunger

Four to Follow - December edition

Today is the first of, what I hope to be, many Four to Follow segments. I’ve gleaned so many lessons since beginning my practice of showing up here weekly. At the top of that list is my deep appreciation for the communal spirit of writers who pour themselves out on the page. I carry so much admiration for the many writers I follow and subscribe to on Substack. So, I want to gather once a month to say, AH! Look at this essay. Wow, it moved me.

As I mentioned in my re-launch essay, We Are Not Static Beings

The second Friday of every month will include our FOUR TO FOLLOW feature spotlight of other writers on Substack that are daring me to feel. It’s a shout out to fellow creatives who moved me, shook me, made me nod my head or shed a tear that month. Because that’s what I want when I read. I want to be moved. I think you do, too.

Before I dive in, I want to give a trigger warning. I will be discussing my experience with disordered eating and body image. If this will unsettle you, please consider passing this week. Take care of yourself and your capacity.

When I started writing here, I was very clear with myself about how I would show up. I made a promise that I would write from the truth of my heart even when it’s twisted up and hanging heavy. Authentic artistry feels palpable. And necessary. It reverberates on the page.

You know when you know. You just feel it.

I’ve learned to trust my vulnerability. It is venerable.

I’ve learned that when I pull something out of me that feels laden with shame, or regret, or concern and air it out and expose it to the light of day, its hold over me weakens. The grip loosens.

Somehow pulling my insides out, for others to witness, converts the power my compulsions have over me. By letting you consume it, it consumes me less. It’s a release valve. The chokehold loosens. Dissipation replaces desperation.

This time of year, as the daylight fades and we approach the darkest day of the year, I often come face to face with my incessant shadow boxing.

Right now, I feel the revival of my compulsion to eat my feelings incessantly. It’s pulling me back under. This happens more dramatically in the winter months, especially in the days leading to my sober anniversary (January 2nd).

They say the body remembers. And mine sure does. As 2020 came to a close, I made the decision that 2021 was going to be the year I quit drinking and face the shit I repeatedly numbed. Once that decision was made, I gave myself a free pass to drink it up. It was one hell of a last hoorah. Perhaps I thought I could get it out of my system that way.

I now know the system just finds replacements.

I am eating my food the same way I was drinking towards the end. Fast, in large quantities and oftentimes in isolation.

The same feelings recently swarmed me as I polished off the leftovers after Thanksgiving. I sat at my kitchen countertop, (no - actually I STOOD at my kitchen countertop) and polished off 3/4 of an entire 8-inch key lime pie. It felt like I couldn’t stop passing the fork to my mouth. Which felt erringly similar to how I couldn’t stop refilling my glass with Tito’s back in 2020. This stage of my drinking was very short-lived. But it was dark enough to sit on my mind with a knowing that I never want to feel that way again.

I sort of feel that way again. Except with food.

Sobriety can feel like a spin cycle. You think you’ve addressed a pattern and a compulsion and then it comes cycloning right back at you.

I know I can honor my body better than the way I have been these last few weeks. And I have been inspired by others who write about this, too.

With all these feelings stirring in me, I found great comfort reading the works of these fine writers:

It’s safe to eat // it’s safe to receive

Ashley Neese

’s essay on It’s safe to eat // it’s safe to receive helped me tremendously. It brought tears to my eyes, which is how I knew it was necessary reading for me. In it, Ashley discusses how this season can bring up so much around food and how we nourish or restrict ourselves. She offers a rich conversation about how deep the conditioning can be for some of us and how deprogramming that hardwire can be tricky.

“Growing up I received very confusing messaging about eating. I was told to finish everything on my plate but that being thin was ideal. I was instructed to eat small, slow bites like a proper lady, but not become so skinny my ribs poked out. I learned that it was shameful to ask for a second serving of dessert, but sneaking Snickers bars or Thin mints late at night when nobody could see was acceptable.”

And then THIS part (oooof)

“When we aren’t given opportunities to listen to our bodies as children around food or are being pressured to eat too much or not enough, it makes sense that we struggle later in life to understand our deeper needs and wants. In those early years, the implicit messages we get are that we cannot trust our bodies, we cannot trust ourselves.

This doubt we carry can make our window of tolerance for receiving narrow. It can make it difficult, and in some cases scary to receive because we lack the trust that we can handle whatever we choose to let in. We feel as if we will be flooded or overwhelmed when we receive. We might also feel that as soon as we take something in, we must find a way to get rid of it as quickly as possible. This shows up like purging, deflecting compliments, or disassociation.”

Thank you,

Ashley Neese

for your raw generosity of experience and tender way of writing through this - through the lens of a mom. Hard and necessary stuff.

In Defense of Ripening

I read

Danielle Coffyn

’s essay In Defense of Ripening and it was a poetic balm to my soul. She shares about a recent vacation she was on, and how old patterns and thoughts crept in:

“At times, I found my mind wandering to old eating disorder thoughts—thoughts of deprivation and exercise to compensate for indulging in rich, delicious food during my trip. Each time I had to gently remind myself I do not have to punish myself for allowing myself pleasure. My body expanding and softening as I age and continue to recover from years of disordered eating doesn’t need to be penalized, and neither does yours.”

And the poetry

Danielle Coffyn

shares at the end of the essay, so nourishing.

A Truce with My Body

Tracie Guild

offers five great compassionate tools we can all turn to when our internal body-shaming voice ramps up. Go check them out. And also, this - relate much?!?!

“I’ve wrestled with my body image for as long as I can remember. Too skinny. Too fat. No boobs. Too much boob. Too pale. Too soft. What’s that bump? Why is there a roll there? I shake my head thinking of a time when I referred to myself as “skinny fat” because of language learned from a personal trainer. How awful is that? It’s exhausting even to write it all out. Recently, I’ve been reflecting on how much time and happiness I’ve wasted feeling out of place in my own skin, even missing out on experiences because my clothes didn’t fit or feel quite right.”

Thank you,

Tracie Guild

for encouraging us to find truce with our bodies.

Dana Leigh Lyons

recently offered a 3-part series on Quieting Food Noise - packed with compassion and insights to assist with the compulsive pull food can have on us. Start here with part 1:

Quieting Food Noise (Without Ozempic) - Part 1

There were multiple take-aways for me, especially this:

“We each have an opportunity to repattern ourselves and to shift default patterns that aren’t helpful or supportive. We each have an opportunity to find inner calm, stillness, silence, and rest—including from food noise. And to cultivate a different, more supportive kind of hunger for things that nourish us, things that don’t require mental negotiations and justifications and acrobatics and painful consequences.”

There are such rich conversations going on in this series. Thank you,

Dana Leigh Lyons

for initiating such a warm inviting approach to an often-difficult topic.

Photo by Eugenia Maximova on Unsplash

The last thing I’ll drop here today is this song. Because, well, Florence saves me. Over and over again (she was my most listened to artist of 2024, according to what both apple music and Spotify tracked for me).

COMMUNITY SHARES:

~What hunger noises ramp up for you this time of year? It may not involve food or body stuff. All kinds of static can build up and can get deafening in this season.

~What does trusting your body mean to you?

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