Let's all gather around and list all the times, events, reasons, and—let's say it—the excuses we convince ourselves that no matter what is happening, food is called for. Good things, bad things, awful things, over-the-top wonderful things: bring on the food. Love, anger, anxiety, despair: where's the ice cream? Heartbreak, euphoria, revenge, boredom: I'll bring the cupcakes. Who's bringing the Cheetos? We've all done it. That is, nearly all of us. (Those who haven't probably don't read blogs about losing weight and recalibrating relationships with food.) And many of us have felt like crap because of all the 'this happened so let's eat' mentality. Why wouldn't we follow that thought pattern? We have decades of coalescing food and every human emotion. It is now multi-generational, the idea that nothing counts, nothing is real, until there's a heaping plate of food to accompany it. Life events are knit together with cake or casseroles, mashed potatoes or buffet lines. Whether a wedding party, divorce party, baby shower, funeral, or a rough workday, food takes center stage, or at least a prominent plate, downstage left. At the very least, food is always in the wings, waiting for its cue. "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille."

BEHIND THE SCENES (Because there’s more to life than food!)

Food is an attention monster. Unfortunately, we tend to enable that little beast.

Think about your earliest memories. Chances are that food features in them in some way. One of my first recollections is toddling around our house, an open bag of Oreo Cookies under my short little arm, eating one after another. Looking back on this, I can understand why my mother would have handed me a package of confection. I was the sixth child, the first girl. Imagining a household of active sons, neverending housework, sports practices, cooking a million meals, and all that went along with a traditional family in the late 50s, it's reasonable that she just wanted a bit of quiet. Some peace. A chance to catch her breath, even as she tended to all required of her. No, she wasn't trying to doom me to vexing food issues or to set me on a path to obesity. It was just that giving me cookies was better than giving herself a double vodka at eleven in the morning.

Many of us can relate to something similar. I've heard from someone who remembers being fed full sugar cola in their baby bottle as they sat belted into a high chair. There are multitudes of people whose family oven was never used because every meal was from a fast food restaurant or a gas station. And we will never know the long-term impacts of recommendations to eat low-fat foods only. (As we now realize, if something is low-fat, it is almost undoubtedly high-sugar.) But looking at our individual or collective history with food, while perhaps informative, doesn't stop us from continuing eating habits that are ... (ahem) ... unhelpful. Knowledge is good. Actions are powerful.

How do we tease apart the idea that occasion=food, holdiay=food, celebration=food, ceremony=food, everything=food? For me the solution has been to do simply that: separate 'X' from food. And to do so in advance. I practice mentally preparing long before whatever 'X' might be. As the truism goes, we don't drown because we can't swim but because we panic. Waiting until we're up to our (multiple) chins in wedding cake or Thanksgiving stuffing and pie may be too late to keep ourselves from falling face-first onto our plate. Going to a restaurant where we're sitting at a restaurant table with people who may feel entitled to opine on our food choices needs preparation. Without a plan for deflecting those comments, we could eat food that doesn't work for us out of self-consciousness. If we're watching TV in the evening when the custom is to fire up a bag of Orville Redenbacher's Ultimate Butter, and we have yet to remind ourselves in advance that popcorn is the devil, then 'oops!'. It's easier to resist under some circumstances if we've girded our resolve in advance.

The good news is that practice works. It becomes a new habit, a good habit that replaces bad, old ones. But what about things beyond social events, daily rituals, and the like? Some traumas and tragedies have us turning to our old standby: eating.

How many stories can we count where we, or our friends, have suffered a great loss and sought solace in food? Of course, there's no true consolation in mashed potatoes or ice cream. Warm biscuits and butter can't offer condolence. After eating all the supposed comfort food, and immediately regretting it, the loved one will still be gone. The marriage will still be over. The thankless child will still feel like a crushing blow on the chest. Food doesn't fix despair, regret, heartbreak, or anxiety.

The only thing food fixes is hunger. If hunger isn't the problem, food is not the solution. It isn't very sexy. It isn't magical. Nor is it easy to accept. It is, however, true.

Life will always come at us, with the good and the bad. We need to learn to deal with it without using food as deflection.

If I can do this, you can do this. I promise.

Disclaimer: I’m not a medical doctor, researcher, or Ph.D., but instead, I’ve been fortunate to have had the time and resources to research the ketogenic diet, also known as LCHF (low carb/high fat). The information I share is based solely on my understanding of that research. We are all responsible for our own choices, including what we put in our mouths, and there’s no substitute for each of us checking things out ourselves. And I’m not a medical professional in any way. Go Keto With Casey is not a medical site. “Duh,” you might say. But best to make it clear to all. I welcome questions, comments, and even civil criticism. I’m still learning. So, if you have something to add, go for it. Links in this post and all others may direct you to affiliate links, where I will receive a small amount of the purchase price of any items you buy through those links. Thanks!