I had a 61 x 46 x 46 cm box of regret. It is a Balikbayan box previously used to store things for our home renovations. Now it houses foods that have expired.
These are stuff I bought but never ate.
When I was 15, I did something like this.
Looking back to recent years, I have thrown away similar amounts of foods that I have bought, stored, but never eaten.
I vow that this is the last time, and to make this promise binding, I recruit you as my witness.
It’s easier this way, with you watching from the sidelines.
While I was disposing of this box, all of me was screaming, “What a waste!”
“How could you have spent so much on things you never used?”
“You’re so stupid! You should have thought about it before you bought it!”
As a Chinoy, this disposal, this dumping of uneaten food is sacrilegious.
But I had to do it for my sanity’s sake.
There are two major differences between the first time I disposed of a boxful of my old self when I was 15 and this time now.
The first thing that has changed is my willingness to self-forgive.
The second thing that changed is my support system—I am now surrounded by people who understand and support what I want to do in my life.
As you well know by now, I have anorexia. It has plagued me since my teens, I relapsed in midlife, but I am managing well now. (Thanks again to my support system: my two kids and husband.)
Recently, I have also symbolically embraced my status as a PWD.
I mention these because my food-hoarding behavior is one of my symptoms. And from the outside looking in, it’s inexplicable.
You may ask, “Why would somebody who eats so little hoard food?”
There are no simple answers to explain this, but I will try my best.
When I was buying those things, I saw food varieties as a way to explore. New flavors = new adventures. I think this is relatable. Even normal people do it. You try out different restaurants and different dishes, don’t you? I was doing a version of this exploration, but I don’t eat out and I never eat in public. So I bought these things and kept them in my safe space, to explore with minimal risk.
But why do I single out food items, not any other thing if my desire is to explore? Simply, it is because I’m anorexic, and food represents my desires. Following this logic, eating represents fulfilling my desires. What I really craved was the gratification of my desires.
So let’s get to the bottom of it. What are my desires?
It’s hard for me to articulate what these are, honestly, it took me months. But I feel that I need to bare them out now. Because, well, it’s time.
In a physical, material sense, I wanted to eat the foods that I bought. Obvious, right? (But I keep getting in my way.)
In a mental level, I want to be intellectually stimulated. I am curious, just as you are. I want to test things, know things, study things. It so happened that I ’m always in the groceries because I’m a mom. And for ten years, I was a stay-at-home mom and nothing else. In short, I hoarded because there was nothing much to do and I was bored. (To my defense, during those early 2010 years, opportunities for Work-From-Home and freelance writing were sparse s).
In an emotional level, I wand and need love. I have this weird “thing”, and maybe it’s not so weird if I explain it: I’ve learned to associate foods with people and events. Buying food items for me is like buying remembrance items for you. For example, if you go on a tour, you buy souvenirs, right? And then you hold on to these souvenirs even if they clutter your space. You don’t want to let them go even if your brain says “no”. This is my “thing” with food items. Maybe you understand it now?
But I already see the error of my ways. Food isn’t love. When I was younger, my mother, my grandmother, and all those people who were supposed to tell me they love me couldn’t do it with words. They kept on buying me food and trying to feed me.
If you love me, tell me. That’s the solution.
A big reason why I developed anorexia was my refusal of food became a symbol of refusing emotional manipulation. By keeping my mouth closed, I was saying, “I can’t take your brand of love, it’s choking me.”
As a child, I couldn’t make sense of the complex (and harmful) emotions I was subjected to by my birth family. But I could well make sense of calories, so that was what I manipulated.
In recent years, as I lived with my chosen family, and as I started to work remotely, things have changed in my emotional landscape.
My family loves me in a way that’s good for me. For us, food is just food, even if the food is bought or made as an act of care. In the same way of thinking, your body weight is just weight, it isn’t a moral judgment.
To add to this, I have an unexpressive spouse. If I want emotional stimulation, I need to ask for it. I didn’t marry a man who would intuitively know my needs; and in hindsight, this is just what’s required.
A poignant factor that drove me to an eating disorder is low self-confidence: I couldn’t ask for what I wanted, and couldn’t verbalize my needs.
With my spouse’s personality, I was forced to learn how to say what I want effectively. I learned not to give feelers about what I wanted. I just spit it out, plain as day.
So now, if I want you to love and support me, I will ask for it.
When I was 15 and I threw out a boxful of my old self, my mom opened the box and scrutinized everything in it. She did not let me throw away the stuff.
At that time, I was throwing away more than pesos worth of things. Not letting me dispose of them was tantamount to ignoring my need to change. She invalidated my choice based on the sentiment, “sayang naman.” (“What a waste.”)
But dear mother, when you did not let me throw away a boxful of my old self, what that said to me was, “I value things more than I value you.” And that message was damaging.
Once, I read something that made much sense, and I’ll retell it here.
When choosing between the material value of things and the emotional benefit of what it brings, think of the bigger thing. Would the pesos and dollars matter more than your peace of mind?
That’s how I ended up letting my husband take care of the kids’ food. Don’t let the anorexic take charge of the meal preparations—it’s triggering.
In throwing away this boxful of my old self, I am redoing my mother’s actions. But I am a better mother to myself. I will nurture me and accept me as who I am.
Melany Heger: anorexic, writer, yogi, atheist, mom-of-two, and long-term spouse. Oh, she has her flaws, but I accept her.
I am mature enough to do this. Ok, I love me more now.
Despite my mistakes, I will embrace this person I wake up to every day.
Aside from you, I asked my teenage son to be a witness to this act.
At first, I tried to lift the box myself, but I couldn’t do it alone. I needed someone’s help, so I called him and he came. Then, we lifted the box together and watched the garbage men load it into their truck. Not just physically, I also needed his support as my accountability partner.
As the box our premises, I felt a huge burden lifted off my shoulders. I knew that finally, it was over.
I also knew from that point on that if my child can forgive me, then, I should be able to forgive myself. I might have misspent all that money, time, and energy, and made a huge mistake, but I am not a mistake. I am not a waste.
More importantly, I will not waste any more chances. From this point forward, I’ll do my best not to repeat my wrongdoing. There shouldn’t be another boxful of sorrow and regret.
I realize now how grateful I am. At first, it was awkward and embarrassing to tell my chosen family about the problem. But I underestimated them. They love me more than I think—they are people I can lean on.
By sharing this experience with my family, I showed my kids I’m fallible and imperfect. I hope that one day, they too will own up to their mistakes. And like me, they will take accountability, show remorse, and make up for the damage.
This week, I enrolled in my second memoir writing course and got myself a Mandarin-Chinese tutor.
Because it’s not about food, isn’t it?
It’s about getting my needs met and acknowledged.
Food, just food, is easy to acquire. Eating is hard, but I can manage.
In the end, we are all emotional eaters, if you think about it.
This time, though, I know better. I can separate my emotional and intellectual needs from my nutritional needs, and I’m on my way, making progress.
The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.
