Improving My Relationship with Food

How I cope with a “restrictive” diet and changing the way I eat due to chronic illness.

This post is not about diet culture. Diet culture is toxic and often leads to unhealthy relationships with food and/or disordered eating. Instead, I’m writing from the context of chronic illness, where I’ve chosen to eat a certain way because it helps me to feel my best.

This post isn’t meant to judge anyone for how they eat. I’m speaking about my own experiences in following (what’s often considered) a “restrictive” diet and no one else’s. My chronic illness symptoms — and therefore quality of life — are greatly affected by what I eat, while not everyone else’s may be. This post is to share a bit of what’s worked for me and how my relationship with food has changed over time, but what helps me may be the opposite of what someone else needs.

As someone who lives with endometriosis and multiple chronic illnesses, a lot of the food I eat makes me flare. Whether it’s whole foods or ultra-processed foods, nutrient-dense foods or desserts, most of the food I eat gives me a reaction. I’m actively taking steps with my doctors to try and improve my chronic conditions as well as my digestive and gut health, but regardless, for the past 20 years, most food has been a source of symptoms for me: cramps, diarrhea, hives, racing heart, insomnia, migraines, leg pain, joint pain, brain fog, and the list goes on.

So how does one navigate eating when many foods make you sick?

I’m at a point now where I only eat when I’m hungry and that’s that.

While some people find focusing on food as physical nourishment or “food as fuel” (I’m talking here in the context of chronic illness and NOT diet culture) reduces their quality of life or negatively affects their mental health, I’m finding it incredibly freeing.

I don’t snack anymore, nor do I typically eat to celebrate or “treat myself” or other reasons unrelated to physical hunger. There is nothing wrong with eating for reasons that aren’t hunger — that is a normal part of human eating. I’m not trying to play into diet culture or make anyone feel ashamed or guilty or wrong for doing that. In my own personal case, due to how frequent, and severe, my reactions are to many foods, I’ve reached a point where overall the only reason I want to eat is to have the nutrients I need to live. I try to make my food — and associated flares — count.

Long gone are the days when I used to say “oh, that [insert food name] was worth [insert horrible symptom].” Honestly, it’s never worth it to me anymore. What is worth it is maintaining a high enough quality of life that I can hold a job, support myself, have fun when I go on vacation or out with friends, and not be disabled by symptoms for hours.

So as much as possible, I eat nutrient-dense, whole or minimally processed foods. I’m omnivorous, and get the fat, protein, and fiber I need while keeping as varied a diet as possible that’s focused on plants. To do so, I’ve been cooking almost all of my own food for 14 years, and if I go someplace, I’ll often bring a Tupperware of food with me rather than eating out. (I want to recognize my privilege to have access to this way of eating.)

There’s a lot of food I choose not to eat

While there’s a lot of foods I eat (veggies, fruits, meats), there’s also a lot of food that I choose not to eat: dairy, added sugar, nuts, most ultra-processed food, gluten, most grains, beans, spices, seafood, certain veggies. Not because any of they are “bad” or “toxic” or other untrue messages we commonly hear from diet/wellness culture, but because not eating those foods helps me to feel my best since those foods cause me an array of disruptive symptoms. “Feeling my best” doesn’t mean symptom free, but rather that I have more energy and less fatigue, less pain, and less flares than when I do include those foods in my diet. (Note: there is no “best” way to eat for endo or any illness. It’s individual to each of us and will depend on our culture, finances, access, tastes, how different foods make us feel, etc.)

Very importantly, I’m getting the nutrients that I need, and while there are many foods that I don’t eat, there’s still a variety of nutrient dense foods that are nourishing me.

If you don’t think you are getting the nutrients that you need, it’s recommended to work with a registered dietitian on this.

Restricting food can affect our mental health

For many people, choosing not to eat certain foods — especially if we love those foods or were used to eating them often — can feel very depriving and even lead to disordered eating. It certainly did for me when I cut out multiple foods 14 years ago. I didn’t know how to cook at that time either, so between that and being unaware of other food options that were available, it felt like there was nothing at all that I could eat.

Apart from being malnourished and constantly hungry, I was super rigid and obsessive about my food choices as I tried to control my endo flares by controlling my food. I felt a lot of guilt, shame, and self-blame when I ate foods that triggered my flares.

It took me many years to figure out how to eat in a way that helped me physically without harming my mental health. It took a long time to get wellness and diet culture beliefs out of my head, and understand how healthism and nutritionism played a role in my beliefs around food and illness. (I talk more about those on my website here.)

At this time, I’m writing this post from a place where I feel that I now have a healthy relationship with food. I don’t have the negative feelings around food as I once did, nor do I feel anymore like I’m “restricting” my food — instead I feel like I’m making choices that support my physical and emotional health. I think that’s the biggest shift for me: I’m not scared of food anymore, nor do I see any foods as “off limits”, even though there are plenty of foods I choose not to eat. Food is no longer a source of anxiety, obsession, or sadness for me.

The other day, I bought a small bag of chips and enjoyed them — with no guilt or fear. Later, I had a terrible flare from them, and I was reminded that I hate the way chips make me feel after I eat them. That is why I don’t eat them: not because I can’t, or because they are “bad” (they aren’t), or because of diet culture and toxic beauty ideals telling me that thinness = worthiness (it doesn’t), but because I prefer the way I feel when I don’t eat them and eat different foods instead. So in the past where it felt like I had to eat a certain way for my health, now my way of eating feels like a choice I make to best support myself.

On many days — especially when I’m at home, cooking my food and feeling full — my diet no longer feels restrictive to me. It did once feel incredibly restrictive to me, but now the way I eat are just my food preferences. While many people would call my diet “restrictive” because there are many foods I avoid, the truth is I eat a more nutrient dense diet and varied diet than some of my loved ones: either because they don’t like a bunch of food, or they don’t cook so they typically eat the same thing day after day, or they don’t have the same access and privileges I do. But when I go to a holiday dinner, travel, or am in a weather emergency (like when I lost power for 3 days), it can feel restrictive because I can’t just eat whatever is available. And that makes some situations really complicated. That’s when feelings of frustration that I don’t normally have in my daily life resurface for me.

If you feel you have disordered eating or an unhealthy relationship with food, it’s recommended to work with a qualified mental health professional on this.

What have I learned over 2 decades (and am still learning)?

See part 2 here.