Linda Spangle, RN, MA, is a weight-loss coach specializing in emotional eating, and the author of 100 Days of Weight Loss, a book of daily lessons that helps people stay committed to their diet and exercise plans.

Guest Blogger Linda Spangle--

Emotions, Food and Kicking My Kettles

Lots of things make me want to eat. Stress, disappointment, a bad day. In fact, sometimes LIFE makes me want to eat. But nothing sends me toward food faster than pain. I think it started when I skinned my knee as a kid and my mother said, “Here’s a cookie. Now you’ll feel better.” In my work as a weight-loss coach, I teach others how to identify emotions and be willing to feel and express them. But sometimes, I have trouble following my own advice.

This past holiday season was really hard for me. I missed my parents who both died in recent years. Family members were far away and our friends were busy or out of town. Because of a blizzard on Christmas Day, my husband and I decided to create a cozy holiday dinner at home. With the salad made and the lasagna in the oven, we started cleaning up the kitchen. In our haste to get finished, we both shoved kettles into the cabinet at the same time, and my fingers got smashed between two iron pots.

The pain was awful! I was already an emotional wreck, and this pushed me over the edge. At first I cried big crocodile tears, the fake kind you get when you’re mad. But then real ones began streaming down my cheeks and I started to wail. Although my fingers were throbbing, my heart seemed to hurt even more. As I sobbed and wailed, all I could think of was that I wanted to skip dinner and bury myself in a carton of ice cream. But as I headed for the freezer, I caught a glimpse of my husband’s face, looking shocked and concerned. “I’m here,” he said. “It will be OK. I’m here.” Those simple words caught my attention and I thought, “Wait a minute! Why am I letting some stupid iron pots make me eat ice cream?”

Suddenly, I turned back to the cupboard and pulled out the sliding shelf filled with pots and pans. Then I lifted my foot and kicked the offending kettle as hard as I could, yelling, “Don’t you EVER do that to me again!” In that split second, my emotions drained away. My tears stopped, and as I realized what I had done, I sank to the floor and melted into laughter.
During times when I’m hurting or feeling weak and vulnerable, I somehow think food will fix my heart. But like my skinned knee, eating is a foolish way to deal with my emotions. When hard times stack up, I have to remind myself that I don’t need ice cream. I need release, comfort and an outlet for the pain. That night, I thought about how easily I blame people, events, even iron kettles for my eating struggles. Whether my pain is physical or emotional, I need to learn how to deal with it rather than heading for the refrigerator. And maybe kicking a few kettles now and then isn’t such a bad idea either.

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Update on Feb 7, 2008 by Editor

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