Not Quite a Wordless Wednesday: food IS love

I don't really care for Valentine's Day. You know how it goes. The heavy pressure on that romantic aspect of our lives, that may or ...


I don't really care for Valentine's Day.

You know how it goes. The heavy pressure on that romantic aspect of our lives, that may or may not, live up to "Sense and Sensibility" expectations. The courting, the chocolates, the flowers, the glittery stuff. The "proposals" and declarations. Bah. Humbug. It was enough to make some of my dearest friends... 'joyfully' declare their mood of choice for the holiday, by getting creative on Facebook...

(I have to admit, since I also dislike romance novels,
I thoroughly enjoyed this little creation.)
So... though I do the usual, quiet penance at home with the husband, I can't say I focus very much on Valentine's Day. I certainly don't think of walking away with any sort of "wordless Wednesday lessons," if you would. What's to learn? Materialism? Impossible-to-live-to expectations? Yeah, so one would think. (I don't even have any kids, so I can't make this post about them! lol)

Often, though, life quietly speaks to us in it's own way... especially when our hearts are open, and not just open to diamonds, or chocolates, and other distractions and materialisms, but open to what's TRULY being expressed... by fate? God? The universe? Your own inner self? Perhaps. But, maybe... Just maybe... Valentine's Day needs to be a bit more "selfish" than it already is, you see. Valentine's Day should be about the one love that actually matters more than almost any love out there: self love. Yes, not the kind of self love that goes around expecting what can I get from others... but the kind of self love that goes around expecting what can I get from MYSELF. 

The little image, above... the heart made of wholesome food. That was IT. That was all Valentine's Day had to give me, yesterday. And it gave me a LOT; more than I could have imagined. A random posting of sorts, shared by a stranger, with entirely different intentions.

Food is love.

For me, food has always been love (even though I sort of dislike food). Just, perhaps, not the right kind of love.

Like any other person struggling with binge eating, and disordered eating, I tend to, unwittingly, look for love in food. I tend to want to FEEL things from the food I eat -- comfort, enjoyment, 'numbing' of bad feelings, friendship, avoidance of issues, appeasing of bad memories, etc, etc. Often, I've tried, again and again, to replace the love that others would not give me, or the missing attention from parents... with food, or bury whatever awful life traumas, underneath it.

Often, this is termed "When Food is Love."

Recently, though, I've been quietly asking myself... what if I can just change that definition around? What if food can still be love, but, from a different angle?

The image above gave me the answer. It almost literally screamed it:
"You can do more than just THINK you're getting emotional support from food... you can actually LOVE YOURSELF with food. Good food. Quality food... HEALTHY FOOD. To show yourself love with proper nourishment is the purest form of self love... Be very selfish with it. Do not abuse it, and do not entrust it to just any food. Treasure it."
When we thoroughly manage our health and give ourselves quality foods that make us FEEL healthy, able bodied, and able minded, capable of taking on the world, of thinking, and making proper decisions... When we give ourselves foods that don't just fuel our bodies, but make our hearts sing because they are wholesome and tasty, and FULFILLING, and in more than just temporary emotions we might feel... But also in HEALTHY emotions we may anticipate because we've put effort into making such meals, and invested in ourselves, as we would in our children... We are literally, feeding ourselves love. We ARE our children. We ARE our loved ones.

It's not a diet, it's not a "healthy lifestyle..." It is SELF LOVE. It is simply... Loving Yourself.  

Work on loving yourself, today. You'll be glad you did.





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