As I write this post I am waiting to meet with friends for dinner. I am taking them to one of my favorite local restaurants, one they have been wanting to try. The place is tiny, so the atmosphere will be cozy, and the open kitchen window ensures that we will feel like a part of the preparation. The food, rustic Italian fare, will look, smell, and taste delicious. Finally, the mood will be joyous, as we are celebrating their engagement. All in all, the makings of a perfect evening.
There is only one problem: I am hungry, too hungry. So hungry, that I have been having trouble writing this post, switching from my work to rereading the restaurant’s web site and having an inner battle about whether I should have a snack before I go. Food, more specifically hunger, is taking over my thoughts. I am so hungry that when I meet my friends I will likely be distracted by my hunger, gazing at the plates of other people’s entrees as the come out of the kitchen, rather than fully listening to the story about their recent beach vacation and resulting proposal. I will likely grab a second and third helping of bread as I try to listen, becoming more impatient as I wait for my order. I will wind up eating so quickly that I will swallow my bites before I have actually tasted them. I wilI will be finished with my meal before I’ve even enjoyed it, feeling painfully full. This unwanted physical feeling will awaken upsetting psychological feelings and a potentially perfect evening in honor of my friends will be overshadowed by my own regret, guilt, and shame.
For too many people, regardless of their weight, shape or size, my scenario is all too familiar. Something happens, we feel out of control around food, and the process of eating becomes filled with negative emotions. Eating should be sensual, joyful, comforting, nourishing, delicious, but instead a plate of pasta or a piece of cheesecake turns into shame before we even swallow. What happened? In what reality should ravioli be a cause for shame?
There could be another outcome, a different scenario. I could be mindful. I could look up the menu before I go, carefully considering what I am in the mood for tonight, and getting a sense of what is on the menu that I would like to try. I could check in with my physical sensations and emotions to see if there are other feelings I am confusing with hunger, such as anxiety, bordem, fatigue or thirst and address them if possible. When we are at the restaurant, I could take a deep breath when the bread dish is placed in front of me, enjoying the aroma of fresh baked goods, choose a piece, and chew it slowly while I listen to my friends. When my meal arrives, before relying only on taste, I could engage my senses of sight and smell, appreciating the presentation, the way the food was artfully and carefully arranged on the plate, as well as the aromas, both thoughtfully considered when creating this meal. I could savor each bite, observing details often over looked while eating, such as texture and temperature, and think about how the food makes me feel, physically and emotionally. I could pause between each bite, asking myself if I want to experience the taste again, and before continuing, notice if I still feel hungry. Without discomfort and the resulting guilt or shame, the food can simply be pleasurable and the experience can be go back to being the joyous celebration we intended it to be.
I know, the second scenario sounds too good to be true, too perfect, inaccessible. But it doesn’t have to be. This fall I has the opportunity to attend week long seminar which taught mindfulness based meditation practices, how to integrate them with eating and food, and how to share these techniques with clients both in group and individual therapy settings. Mindfulness Based Eating Awareness Training, or MB-EAT, created by Jean Kristeller, PhD, provided me with a new approach to working with clients who want to change their relationship to food, particularly those struggling with Binge Eating Disorder or compulsive and emotional overeating. Many people are initially intimidated by the idea of meditation, believe that they are too impatient, imagine they will be forced to sit cross legged for hours chanting, or worry they will have to adopt a dogma they do not believe in. But mindful eating is not that complicated. Mindful eating can be as simple as taking a minute to decide what you would like off of the menu, taking five deep breaths before digging in to your meal, smelling the food before tasting it, or simply asking yourself, “Am I still hungry?”
Earlier this month I was excited to see an article by Jeff Gordinier in The New York Times, featuring mindful eating (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/08/dining/mindful-eating-as-food-for-thought.html?_r=1&ref=health). It’s a wonderful, straightforward article, providing a nice introduction to the topic. If you’re still curious after that, The Center for Mindful Eating (tcme.org) is a wonderful resource for both clients and professionals. Mindful eating techniques have made my clinical work more robust and I am always looking for ways to share them with clients.
Lauren Schiffer, LICSW, MPH 