I’ve wanted to write this post for years. It makes a relatively big impact on my life – and definitely on my relationships with people.
Hi. I’m Juliet and I have an eating disorder.
It’s not anorexia or bulimia or one of the ones with names. If it had a name, life would be so much easier. Selective Eating Disorder comes close but it’s not quite it. It’s probably a side-effect of being the proud owner of a brain development disorder, which is maybe a phrase I should try out on the next person to interrogate me. Can’t go any worse than other interrogations in my life so far.
Basically, I have a very restrictive list of things I can eat. I used to use the words “like” and “don’t like” until I realised I can eat cake but I don’t like it. It’s definitely “can eat” vs “cannot eat”.
I’m not going to list the things I can eat. If I do that, people will try to trip me up, as if they can identify the one food that proves I’m not a disordered eater, that I’m lying to them. It’s a very popular game. I don’t keep a list of the things I eat once in five years so I might forget that I sometimes eat a thing.
I get by. I’m not starving, I’m not dying and I don’t have scurvy. Medical science is still missing something because it says I should be all of these things.
By the way, I’m not exaggerating when I say that every person I have ever met has made this a big deal. I have lost my sense of humour on the subject. I have hit people in the pub for refusing to drop the subject. The paragraph that was originally here raised my blood pressure just to write and it contained two death threats. Do not hassle me over this.
But how do I travel with an eating disorder like this?
Easy. On my list of “can eat” foods is bread and some kinds of cheese. I have yet to visit a country where I can’t buy bread in a supermarket or corner shop. (I did once have to explain to someone that “food shops exist”.) In the event I can’t get even plastic cheese slices (a lifesaver!) I generally travel with Babybels. They only improve on being dumped in a bag and carried around a snowy country. Honestly.
Second, I go nowhere without emergency food unless I know for certain I can get what I need. Pringles are very space-efficient in luggage. Ultra-concentrated squash, like Robinson’s Squash’d is handy for emergencies. Cereal bars & homemade flapjack are invaluable. Stuff like that keeps you alive. Is it ideal? Far from it. But it’s better than a blood glucose crash – happened on camp in February because I left my emergency food in my room rather than taking it out on duty with me. Better than starving. Better than being hangry or in that hunger-induced state of borderline suicidally-unhappy I occasionally get if I haven’t eaten. Any food is better than no food.
Third, I’m a camel. As a general rule, I can survive longer on minimal food than “normal eaters”. We went to a caving party weekend when I was eighteen or nineteen, where the supermarket delivery got cancelled at the last minute because they discovered when they went to pack it that it was just too busy. The organisers raided the village store and managed to get enough bread, cheese and bacon to keep eighty-odd cavers alive for two days. By the end of those two days, the rest of the club were light-headed from hunger (and beer, let’s be honest) but I felt like I’d been pretty well fed.
Restaurants are mostly out, but for obvious reasons, I’ve not ever got into the habit of visiting them anyway. If I go out to eat with friends or colleagues, I can sometimes get a cheese sandwich or roll (these are almost invariably revolting) or often garlic bread (almost always either burnt or so undercooked it’s floppy. Occasionally, charmingly, both at the same time) or I resort to pudding only & merrily stuff my face with chocolate fudge cake with ice cream. Often I settle for just a drink.
And I haven’t even mentioned yet that the gods saw fit to make me lactose intolerant. Oh, the sense of humour!
The reason I’m thinking about this is that I’m going to do the Laugavegur Trail in the summer. I’m going guided because I want to come home alive – but they provide food. For an extra (extortionate!) fee, they can do special food. 1) I have no wish to effectively pay for basic simple food twice 2) my own grandparents repeatedly failed to manage special food for me and if they can’t get it right, a stranger isn’t going to be able to. So I’m taking my own and that means a lot of research and experimenting.
My point is that there are other people who worry about travelling because of food, be it eating disorders, restricted diets, dietary needs, religious reasons, whatever. I’m the most difficult person on the planet and I want you to understand that if I can manage, you probably can – even if that means accepting that for a while you’re going to live on plain bread or junk food. You can do it. Food is fuel, whatever form it takes, grocery shopping exists (I mean, if it’s good enough for the locals…) and if anyone gives you hassle for it, you can always hit them.
Comments are open & welcome to people who have questions. Not to people who want to be nasty and not to people who use the words “fussy” or “picky”.