Don’t even come near me with that artificial-ingredient-laden cake of death. So you’re basically trying to make me eat something that will kill me and that is pure evil and you should be ashamed of yourself. Oh, and by the way everybody knows that cake is bad for you and will kill you. “ Darling, would you like a slice of cake?” If you recognise yourself doing any of these, then you probably are dealing with a fear-response to eating food (which is really a fear of weight gain.) Fight I had my go-tos, but they were also situation dependent. People I knew less well would get flight, freeze, or fawn.Īll the above are sympathetic nervous system (SNS) fear responses. No, I saved the anger for the people who loved me most. It wouldn’t do, for example, to get angry with every person who offered me food in the way I did with my mother. My fear-response of choice would depend on what felt the most suitable in any given situation. And that, actually, a lot of the “weird shit” I did was actually an adaption of a fear response. Then I began to understand that anger was one of a spectrum of fear-responses that I frequently exhibited. Understanding that my anger was also a symptom of fear was helpful to me. My reactions were certainly indicative that some part of my brain viewed weight gain as a threat. But fear is not always conscious, and despite wanting to gain weight I could also see that my actions and behaviours were avoidant of weight gain. Why does someone offering me food feel like such a threat? Because I am afraid of weight gain.įear of weight gain was hard for me to swallow because consciously, I didn’t fear weight gain. Why do I split my wig when offered food? Because being offered food feels like a threat. ![]() Once I recognised that my anger-response to being offered food was inappropriate, I was able to join the dots. ![]() It dawned on me, that it was actually my anger that was inappropriate, not my mother. I’m kind of embarrassed it took me that long as it seems so bloody obvious now that someone popping their head around the door and asking “ Darling, would you like a sandwich?” should not provoke murderous thoughts and a tirade of insults. It took me about 10 years to realise that my tendency to hit the roof in rage whenever my mother offered me food was actually an expression of fear.
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