Story of Acceptance
Ashley Sara DeKam
When my nutrition therapy was most effective, I often engaged in Assisted Meals with my nutritionist, Esther. Once a month, the two of us would meet at a varying location for a “sweet treat.” My assignment was to select something new, a new dessert, until I developed a liking for a favorite, while she selected her favorite item on the menu as well. We indulged together. We tasted, we smelled, we touched, and we eyed our special treats. We mindfully discussed texture, mouth feel, as well as flavor. We enjoyed the experience. And then we moved on. Food was food – and then the meal became about so much more: the experience, the conversation, and the time together, the “normalcy” of life. On other occasions, we met at a community house for a meal. These group meals were set up to enjoy both food and company in a safe environment. Different groups of individuals were assigned to cook a meal for the larger part, once a month, sharing, conversing, and creating a consummate mealtime community all at once. The meals left me with no option but to consume the food before me – thick slabs of crusty bread slathered in butter and giant bowls of warming chowder – and aim to savor both the nutrition and the experience. I observed the ravenous appetites of others, sipping soup and eating with abandon. I watched individuals converse, without much concern for the food before them, other than acknowledging the blessing of the bounty. I witnessed, I felt, and I came to know health, vitality, and “normalcy” surrounding food. I came to appreciate mealtime, the sacred experience that it can be, and I came to realize that my presence at a meal was appreciated as well. I was both appreciated and accepted.... not to mention, nourished.
Relapses still ensued, but I never completely lost this element of my recovery. Even with the fear of food, the fright of the unexpected and uncontrolled meal out, at home, or at another’s, I never lost sight of acceptance and normalcy that can come with a shared meal.
Years later, Assisted Meals became crucial to my recovery again, serving
REAL Thoughts, REAL Food, and REAL Life