Making Peace with the Thanksgiving Feast

I’m one of those typical girls who simply adores the holidays. I love the traditions, the celebratory mood, the family, the twinkle lights, the gifts, the blessings, and the carols.

Like most Americans, I also love the food—especially, of course, on Thanksgiving. What a time of crazy fun gluttony! How fabulous to stuff yourself silly and then lie on the couch and doze off, or play games, or watch a movie with the fam!?! How delicious is that second piece of pie? I love it.

However, Thanksgiving hasn’t always held such a special place in my heart. As someone who has had a very twisted relationship with food throughout much of my life, the holidays have often been very hard in the past—a time of year that I simply needed to survive, without getting too “out of control.”

In high school, and even on and off a bit throughout college, I had an eating disorder. Groan, I know. Sadly, I'm certain that many people reading this have also had eating disorders, so I’m sure you understand. Eating disorders are ridiculously common in our culture now, and as one of my friends said when I told her that I used to be anorexic, “Weren’t we all?”

I don’t like to get into the logistics of it—the numbers on the scale, the calorie restrictions, the moments of shame (you know, the typical eating disorder article “shock stats”)—because to me, that’s not the point.

To me, the point is that we, as a culture, have taught our young people that their bodies are bad, are no good, are meant to be changed--that their bodies are the enemy. And thus, food, which has the most direct affect on the shape and health of our bodies, has become our ammunition for taking down the enemy (or controlling it).

I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but there was a turning point in my early adolescence when my favorite homemade Christmas cookies became dangerous, when my mom’s pecan pie (which I LOVED) became something to avoid, when I cringed at the first scent of holiday baking, or stuffing, or gravy.

The holidays were still associated with family, love, and tradition, yes, but now they also became a time of war between my body, my mind, my willpower, and the food that surrounded every event.

Like most people with eating disorders, mine was all about control and low self-esteem. Again, not worth going into, but worth mentioning only because it’s so common in our society, where we’re constantly inundated with ways to change or “better” ourselves in order to become “happier. “

On Thanksgiving, I would give myself a bit of a pass to eat some of the food, but only in serious moderation and avoiding the calorically-dense items. In my mind, if I could pass on the pumpkin pie, I was more powerful, more in control than those around me. If I had just one bite of someone else’s slice, I was weak, but I was in the clear. But if I had a whole slice, or two slices—with a glass of milk (gasp!)—I was disgusting. And it was all downhill from there. My holiday would be ruined.

It’s amazing to me how our relationship with food, and with nourishing our bodies, can get so twisted; that something as beautiful as enjoying a special meal with loved ones, under the premise of gratitude for all that we have in our lives, can lead to such self-hatred. But, I know that I’m not wrong in saying that for some, the holidays are just another chance to “fail” or disappoint in some way, and that makes me very sad.

At this point in my life, I have left that part of my former self far behind. I now make two pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving, and I often eat a slice every day until it’s all gone. I enjoy each bite, I revel in the indulgence, and I appreciate the taste, the flavors,  and the experience of eating this homemade treat.

Weirdly enough, in an odd way, I’m now thankful that I had some of these issues when I was younger. I mean, obviously, I wish I had just been confident and healthy and happy throughout my life. And sure, I could have gone without the really low points and all of the agony associated with my eating disorder, but there’s a part of me that is grateful for what it taught me.

It’s incredible how having issues around eating can make you appreciate healthy eating that much more—and I’m not talking about healthy eating as in whole grains and veggies, but healthy eating as in “I can have a piece of pie and be satisfied—not hate myself, not want to throw it up, not want to binge on the entire pie—but instead, just be happy that I was able to enjoy it and the move on.”

After years of disordered eating, that’s a great joy and relief.

Similarly, I’m now extremely thankful for my body, and I’ve learned that taking care of it is one of the most important things I can do in my life. After so many years of running it to the ground and depriving it of what it needed, I now find great happiness in taking a day off from working out, going to a yummy yoga class, taking a nap, or getting a massage.

Would I be as aware of my body if I hadn’t had issues with it for so long, and thus, found yoga? Absolutely not. Would I enjoy food, dining out, and eating “normally” as much as I do now? I don’t think so. Would I be able to identify with my students who feel disconnected from [or hate] their bodies? Probably not. So, in many ways, it has added depth to my life experience, and hopefully, made me more compassionate to others.

Thus, this Thanksgiving, I’ve decided to be grateful for my life journey, and everything that has brought me here. The rocky times, the tough times, the embarrassing times, and yes, even the disordered times.

I know that I have become the person that I am today because of what I’ve been through, and I hope that this year, you can catch a glimpse of that beauty in your own path, as well.

Thank you, body, for sticking with me through all of the CRAP that I’ve put you through. Thank you, food, for becoming a friend again. Thank you readers, for making me feel accepted enough to share this with you.

When I sit down to feast on my holiday favorites this Thursday, you can be sure that I'll be enjoying every moment of the experience--and finding gratitude in the sights, the sounds, and of course, the tastes. 

Happy Thanksgiving week!