“Then you’re not going crazy,” she replied. “If you were really an addict or obsessive-compulsive, this chilly-killy thing would interfere with your entire life.” She ended by telling me that if I went back to that same stand in Mexico, I would likely be disappointed—“it’s not really about the meal, it’s about the sense of contentment you felt on vacation”—and reminding me to call Aunt Debbe for her birthday.
Her words only half-comforted me. I was exhausted from the hunt. I retreated from Mexican food entirely. I stayed clean for a few months, until my birthday, when I gave in and allowed myself another taste.
Source: gilttaste.com
A competitive person or one who feels chronically undervalued cherishes foods that the brain has coded as rewards. A loner finds no comfort in those foods the brain links with community. An abused person who lives in fear might hoard safety foods.
When we feel endangered, unsung and/or lonesome, we eat.
