The Day I Put the Pills in my Pocket

I wanted to write about a college student's struggle with her food relationship and how it has changed ever since she decided to be medicated for Attention Deficit Disorder. I don't normally talk about it a lot... but that girl is me. I get embarrassed because a lot of people think it is fake, and then I get frustrated because so much of my life-- including what I eat-- is influenced by taking my medication. However, for the log analysis, I just couldn't find a way to incorporate two authors. So instead, I made a blog post about it....in fact, I've started my own blog. You can check it out at www.lettheflamesbegin718@tumblr.com or www.whatsyourwhim.tumblr.com . I'm playing around with a few topics, the whats your whim one is about my life as a small town waitress....the other is more reflective and personal. If anyone else has a tumblr account...let me know, I'd love to follow you. Anyway... here is the post I wanted to be my analysis but, couldn't lol :)

I most recently read a piece by Elizabeth Berg called "The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted" where she recollects her 24 hour period of attempting to cheat on her Weight Watchers Diet plan without any guilt. She was fed up with pretending like she enjoyed being controlled by the points system. She was fed up with keeping track of every single thing she put into her body for the sake of "nutrition" and "health." She was fed up with her food choice, not really being a matter of what she wanted to eat, rather what she was allowed to eat. Which got me thinking...
I never thought in a million years that a person's food choice could be governed by anything other than what one was hungry for at any given moment. Especially impossible for one like myself who has grown up around a focus on the deliciousness of home-style cooking; and who has grown up with a deep respect for the term "soul food." So, with this upbringing, I ate to enjoy food. I ate because an excellent meal included joyful banter with those around me and usually afforded an opportunity to create situations that turned into cherished memories. So when I felt hungry, (you know, that little twinge of emptiness that sort of balls up right in the pit of your stomach begging to be filled with deliciousness) I began to cognitively flip through my mental filing cabinet filled with recipe cards and menu choices. Where or what could I eat that would fulfill the reputation food had so intricately built in my life?
That question changed with my first 54mg dose of Concerta. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder in the third grade, but my parents refused to have me medicated. With good reason I suppose. What energetic 9 year old knows how to sit in their seat perfectly anyway? But, don't get me started on the American Education System...In college though, the inability to focus, I knew, was something I needed help to control. Thus, I researched my options for aid. Little did I know, my improved cognitive skills would completely overshadow my love for food, and the important role it once played would be forever changed.
I remember taking it on the first day and thinking “I better not be pregnant again.” The nausea was overwhelming, and I couldn’t bare to think about any morsel of food at all. This was rather ironic as a heaping pile of buttermilk biscuits and sausage gravy lay enticingly on the kitchen counter begging me to devour them. I dipped my pinky finger ever so slightly into the rich brown gravy and was devastated when the smell made me want to run to the toilet rather than sit with my family and enjoy breakfast. Still, on my forty- five-minute drive to campus, I noticed an extremely improved ability to stay alert and focus, and I felt happy. There isn’t really any other way to explain it. I wasn’t elated or extremely over joyous, but despite missing my favorite breakfast, I was in a really great mood.
Before I knew it, I didn’t really miss food at all. I found out that eating breakfast before taking the pill took away the nausea, drinking water kept the nausea away, and eating small bits of food throughout the day was really all I needed. The mental filing cabinet of recipe cards and menu choices acquired a thick sheet of dust and cobwebs as food was no longer an entity that defined me as a person. In fact, I started to honestly forget what being hungry felt like. After my body got used to the medication, even thought I wasn’t hungry, I began to look at the food I once loved and longed to consume it with the zest I once did. I looked at the menu at our local diner “Cast Away’s” wishing with the utmost passionate strength that I could fulfill my craving for loaded mashed potatoes just this once. They tasted just like Grandma Howe made. Last Thanksgiving, my daughter tasted her first spoonful of loaded mashed potatoes and it was love at first bite. She looked at her daddy and said “Grandma’s tatoes rule your tatoes” and everyone laughed till tears poured down their cheeks. By the end of the afternoon there wasn’t even a dollop of loaded mashed potatoes left. We were all full then. Happy. But back to reality in Cast Away’s humble dining area, I knew if I ordered the mashed potatoes, I’d make myself sick both emotionally and physically. The desire to experience the smooth, thick texture of potatoes mixed with pieces of hickory-smoked bacon and chives would not be allowed to prevail when my appetite was no longer existent. I got vegetable soup instead.
Three years later, my love for food seems more remembered than experienced. It is more described and talked about than acted upon. My love for food now, almost seems like a made up fairytale you’d read to remember your favorite childhood memories. It is like a topic I find interesting to write about rather than a tradition, a way of life, which actually shaped who I am. I don’t want to lose my love. I don’t want to forget what it feels like to be hungry in the first place. ADD is no longer wearing the pants in my relationship with food—At least for today. I decided, with Thanksgiving coming up, I was going to put the pill in my pocket, and let the feeling of hunger and craving, only once remembered, come to the forefront of my brain and take over.
I woke up and decided to go to the local coffee shop “Java Trail.” I frequently visited the shop, ran by husband and wife when I was younger. I got choco-chip frappes and homemade cinnamon rolls that oozed icing from the inside. They were always warm when you bought them like the couple just baked all day, waiting for you to come in. They also had this egg and cheese casserole. I don’t know how they made it, but they had this little indoor garden that they grew vegetables to make their own salsa all year round, and that’s what I wanted. I wasn’t really hungry, I didn’t think, but I wanted to start the day off right. I bought a large white chocolate mocha and a single serving cheese and egg casserole with a side of salsa and sour cream. I also bought a huge chocolate chip cookie… just because they looked good and I knew I would be able to eat it today…sometime. Caidence would like to share it with me at least. Anyway, as I sat there with the steaming bowl in front of me, I sprinkled a little salt and red pepper, and thought “Now, I am going to savor every single bite of this casserole and fully experience the gooey cheese mixed with soft fluffy eggs and spicy hot chunky salsa draped over cool velvety sour cream.” My mouth actually began to water. It was delicious, but I could only get through half of it. I guess some girls would call this a blessing. I mean I could not finish a casserole serving that was maybe 3 or 4 inches in diameter. But, I wanted to. I wanted to eat the whole thing. I wanted to finish it. Even without the medicine, my body was not used to this kind of food, and it filled up. It shut down. I was done. I boxed it up like I box most servings from restaurants and drove home feeling like maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
I was full and lethargic. I didn’t have any motivation at all for the rest of the early morning. I felt sluggish and kind of fat. You know that feeling when you ate too much? You can’t suck it in anymore because there’s nowhere for the stomach to suck to? It’s the point where you take off your little red high belt, meant to accentuate the waist, because you can’t really breath anymore. So I laid there…for probably about an hour and 15 minutes waiting for everyone else to get up. I think I had a dream about Bob Evan’s breakfast because when Caidence and Patrick woke up, I cooked breakfast for them. The same biscuits and gravy that once made me sick, now smelled delicious. As I dipped my pinky in the thick brown gravy, I thought mmmm I’ll just have a few spoonfuls. I did. But I was still extremely full, so I could fully enjoy the meal I prepared. This wasn’t fair. I wanted to eat. I guess one day wasn’t enough.
The rest of the day went much the same. Stuffed pita pockets for lunch with red bell pepper and garlic parmesan sauce dripping in the middle. I added a few black olives and diced turkey meatballs too. Caidence sat at the dinner silent. I watched her eat because I had already eaten half of mine and felt too full to finish the rest. She said “Good Mommy!” kind of like the way we say “Good Dog!” but, I knew she was really saying “Thanks for this awesome pita pocket.” She ate the whole thing. And as she licked the parmesan sauce off her little stubby fingers, I envied her ability to still be happy after eating the whole meal. She licked the last thumb one more time and said “Lets play!” She was full, but satisfied. I was full, and paralyzed after only half of the lunch she ate.
We went to Grandma Howe’s for dinner. On the way there, I spilt the giant chocolate chip cookie three ways with Caidence and Patrick. It was delicious, and just the right size. I walked in Grandma’s bright green front door, and automatically knew, that my life was still ran by Concerta. The smell of freshly baked bread made me think about eating 3 slices of it just because I didn’t take my medicine that day. I was thinking about eating all of the things I never got to eat while taking the medicine, so I could enjoy the time with the people I loved and the food so close to my heart just like I used to; and I tried to indulge myself every step of the way. In that sense, it didn’t matter whether I took the medicine or not, each choice for food was governed by whether I had taken my medicine that day… or not. I realized that, eating like I used to really was an experience of the past. It is something I can look back fondly on and reminisce about. But, I still love the feeling I get when watching other people enjoy the food I make. I still love going out to dinner even if I never finish even half of a restaurant serving. So the WAY I enjoy food is different…but the DEGREE is still the same. I realized my life is no less shaped by food today, in fact, it may be even more influenced by it than it ever was. Food and I will always be lovers. We may have moved past the honeymoon phase when I eat lots and lots of whatever I want. But, when I take my pills out of my pocket tomorrow, I will swallow 54mg of Concerta knowing that choosing to make my ability to focus a priority is not breaking off my love for food…merely re-shaping the way we show affection. Which reminds me… how I choose food is still governed by whatever I feel like eating at the moment… its just lately, with Concerta, what I feel like eating is a little bit different.