Interlude: Starvation
I'm not sure yet if this will be cohesive, or a series of thoughts. Again, we'll see.
I believe I have mentioned before that oftentimes when I think of money, I also think of food. The two are very linked for me. I have similar habits when it comes to both, and they seem to flux at the same time.
I was thinking the other day about my early adulthood. I went through several years after leaving college where I just didn't have very much money. I remember when $8/hour seemed like a lot. Then I went down to 6.50. Then up to 10; that was just amazing.
When I was in school for massage at the age of 19-20, I remember being quite broke. I worked the breakfast buffet at a hotel where people would tip $1 for me to get their drinks. In a four hour shift, this doesn't accrue much.
When I was 22 I worked at a group home for $8/hr. I didn't have a car; I biked 8 miles there and 8 miles home. On a weekly basis I would get thorns in my tires and be kind of stuck in the middle of Mesa, AZ at 10:30pm.
When I was thinking about this the other day, I wondered why it was like this. Why was it so hard to make a decent wage? Why have I spent so many years with what felt like not enough? I am feeling my victim archetype as I conjure these memories. I feel sad on my younger self's behalf. She just sucked it up and got through it. But now I can feel her frustration and anger and sadness at all this.
I would like to interject here: I am not comparing my story to anyone's story. These memories above are not meant to woo anyone else's emotions, and I know many have had far worse experiences than these. It is still important, however, to honor MY emotion in MY experiences, regardless of how they measure up to someone else's.
Just now, in the kitchen, I started recalling my relationship to food when I was young. I often remember, more in a mental capacity than emotional, that I would go to friends' houses and sneak food from their pantries and eat it secretly. What I just remembered was going to work with my mom and I would steal food from the refrigerator that belonged to other people. Their sodas and sandwiches and Lunchables and snacks.
My mom always made healthy food. I always felt (and still do) judged for the quantity I ate in front of my parents, regardless of the quantity they eat. My stepdad, with whom I grew up, would eat large quantities of junk food every night in front of the TV. These were very conflicting messages. The healthy food felt like starvation; the junk felt like family (because I would eat it with him in front of the TV) and togetherness.
A wave of clarity washed over me in the kitchen a moment ago: All these experiences felt like starvation. I have never been literally starved for food. I am, after all, American. Most Americans only starve by choice if at all. But I have felt starved. For.....what? I have the thing where I feel starved so I binge - with food and with money. I also have the thing where I feel accomplished when I intentionally starve or deprive myself.
Turns out this is a random smattering of thoughts. I'm cool with that.
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