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I was growing up with a mother who was raised in the 40s and 50s, one of ten children. She was the second oldest and when she was 14 and her sister was 15 they were both asked to leave home because their parents were no longer able to afford to feed them. My mother took on jobs as a nanny and moved to Rome, Paris and London. She did the right thing by combining what some may call a tragedy and making the best out of it. By the time she was 18 she spoke four languages. The point, however, is that she was raised in scarcity and learned how to make the best out of everything. She would never in a million years throw away left-overs and learned “how to split a penny,” as she used to call it.
It was difficult growing up with the energy of scarcity and to constantly hear about the poor and starving children in Ethiopia. She would put way too much food on the plates for my sister and myself and expect us to eat every bite of it. We had no choice in the matter and often sat there up to 2 hours or until our plates were empty; we were not allowed to get off the chairs and she would periodically check in on us.
I was also the rebel between my sister and I and my mouth often got me in trouble. My punishment was frequently to stay in my room and go to bed early, without dinner. I specifically remember being locked in my room for what my mother called “room arrest” without knowing why I was there in the first place, but making the best out of it by looking out the window and day dreaming. I remember wondering if my parents would one day forget about me and didn’t know if I’d ever get to eat again.
Many of you can relate as I have gotten many e-mails from those you who have purchased my 5-CD program, during which I talk in details about the abnormalities this upbringing causes in children. Today parents often don’t punish children by withholding food, but many still punish or reward children by giving or withholding that special dessert or that special piece of candy.
I didn’t know if food was here to punish me or to comfort me. Of course, food is here for neither. It is here to be fuel to our bodies, that’s it.
I learned early on to steal apples from the tree while walking to school and once I was caught I had to take a detour because the farmer was on the look out for me. My detour passed by a little, tiny grocery store and I learned how to steal a candy bar on my way home from school, just in case I had to go to bed without dinner, at least I had something to eat. But I was caught there too. It was the last time I stole, it obviously wasn’t the answer.
After my Dad left home when I was 12 years old, my mother bought only the basic food groups, bread, milk, butter, etc. She prepared dinner but other items such as yogurts and such, I had to buy with my own money. Thus I started working when I was 12 years old. Going through childhood and teenage years like this you can imagine that the relationship to food is just distorted and confusing. I call it a dysfunctional relationship in the truest sense. My biggest fear being a teenager was to go hungry and run out of food. I learned to make a candy bar last me all day and even if it was the only thing I ate, it was good and it was a blessing.
I promised myself to never, ever do such a thing to my own child if I ever had a child. And I kept to my promise, to the detriment of my ex-husband who was born and raised with lots of food and never went hungry. The concept of letting our daughter make the rules about when she was hungry and when she was full was foreign to him and he felt that teaching her to “finish her plate” was “the thing to do.” This was not up for negotiation, under no circumstances was I forcing my system and some non-sense rules onto my child’s perfect body. It was my job to teach her how to learn to listen to her body and the signals it was giving her. It was not up to me to judge her or force food onto and into her by claiming “to know better” than her wise, little body. It was simply miraculous to watch her grow up and to watch her relationship with food today. She has become my teacher in many ways and I look forward to sharing with you some amazing stories as time passes on.
Stay tuned for the second part of this story.
I was growing up with a mother who was raised in the 40s and 50s, one of ten children. She was the second oldest and when she was 14 and her sister was 15 they were both asked to leave home because their parents were no longer able to afford to feed them. My mother took on jobs as a nanny and moved to Rome, Paris and London. She did the right thing by combining what some may call a tragedy and making the best out of it. By the time she was 18 she spoke four languages. The point, however, is that she was raised in scarcity and learned how to make the best out of everything. She would never in a million years throw away left-overs and learned “how to split a penny,” as she used to call it.
It was difficult growing up with the energy of scarcity and to constantly hear about the poor and starving children in Ethiopia. She would put way too much food on the plates for my sister and myself and expect us to eat every bite of it. We had no choice in the matter and often sat there up to 2 hours or until our plates were empty; we were not allowed to get off the chairs and she would periodically check in on us.
I was also the rebel between my sister and I and my mouth often got me in trouble. My punishment was frequently to stay in my room and go to bed early, without dinner. I specifically remember being locked in my room for what my mother called “room arrest” without knowing why I was there in the first place, but making the best out of it by looking out the window and day dreaming. I remember wondering if my parents would one day forget about me and didn’t know if I’d ever get to eat again.
Many of you can relate as I have gotten many e-mails from those you who have purchased my 5-CD program, during which I talk in details about the abnormalities this upbringing causes in children. Today parents often don’t punish children by withholding food, but many still punish or reward children by giving or withholding that special dessert or that special piece of candy.
I didn’t know if food was here to punish me or to comfort me. Of course, food is here for neither. It is here to be fuel to our bodies, that’s it.
I learned early on to steal apples from the tree while walking to school and once I was caught I had to take a detour because the farmer was on the look out for me. My detour passed by a little, tiny grocery store and I learned how to steal a candy bar on my way home from school, just in case I had to go to bed without dinner, at least I had something to eat. But I was caught there too. It was the last time I stole, it obviously wasn’t the answer.
After my Dad left home when I was 12 years old, my mother bought only the basic food groups, bread, milk, butter, etc. She prepared dinner but other items such as yogurts and such, I had to buy with my own money. Thus I started working when I was 12 years old. Going through childhood and teenage years like this you can imagine that the relationship to food is just distorted and confusing. I call it a dysfunctional relationship in the truest sense. My biggest fear being a teenager was to go hungry and run out of food. I learned to make a candy bar last me all day and even if it was the only thing I ate, it was good and it was a blessing.
I promised myself to never, ever do such a thing to my own child if I ever had a child. And I kept to my promise, to the detriment of my ex-husband who was born and raised with lots of food and never went hungry. The concept of letting our daughter make the rules about when she was hungry and when she was full was foreign to him and he felt that teaching her to “finish her plate” was “the thing to do.” This was not up for negotiation, under no circumstances was I forcing my system and some non-sense rules onto my child’s perfect body. It was my job to teach her how to learn to listen to her body and the signals it was giving her. It was not up to me to judge her or force food onto and into her by claiming “to know better” than her wise, little body. It was simply miraculous to watch her grow up and to watch her relationship with food today. She has become my teacher in many ways and I look forward to sharing with you some amazing stories as time passes on.
Stay tuned for the second part of this story.
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