I took Luna to the park this past Friday. She is pretty adventurous. READ: she is getting hurt like all the time now.
So she busted her face on the playground.
I helped to calm her down but she was still a bit fussy moments later.
Then I offered her a snack.
“Do you want a snack? Maybe that will help you feel better?” I said, OUT LOUD.
Holy crap you guys. This whole food-will-make-me-feel-better thing starts when we are barely 1.
The pints of ice cream. The chocolate. The wine. The goldfish at the park.
We are sold a story that food will make us feel better. And it kind of does.
But not because it makes Luna’s ouchie feel better. Not because it makes the boyfriend come back. Not because it makes our boss nice. Not because it helps us to feel what we are meant to feel as humans.
But because it releases a chemical in our brain that elicits false pleasure and then for some of us a big NET NEGATIVE down the line. (not weighing what we want to weigh? Sugar hangovers anyone?)
Food is like a really crappy band aid that when it falls off the the “ouchie” is even worse than when it started.
So of course many of us don’t feel the way we want in our bodies. Maybe partly because we have been told by our culture since before we could barely even chew that food is the answer.
It never is.