TW: for a frank conversation around my own struggles with food and references to diet culture

I’ve been studying the Enneagram for more than five years, and because of that, most of what I’ve studied feels quite ingrained and accessible. But with anything we learn, I think, there are layers, and as we go through new situations in our life and move further along our path (hopefully toward self-actualization), life has a tendency to throw us the same types of situations again and again, in hopes, perhaps, that we’re ready for a new lesson and can grow further as a result. A mentor of mine recently described this idea as a spiral path for growth, and I know that isn’t a new concept for many of us. 

My relationship with food, of course, goes back much farther than my relationship with the Enneagram. My own relationship with food is complicated, with past experiences and challenges around food security, trust, and control. Add to that a hefty dose of diet culture in the 80s and 90s and throw in the fact that in the past eight years, I’ve realized I can’t eat gluten and have some other food sensitivities, and you’ve truly got a recipe for food issues, to say the least. 

I could share a number of stories about the effects this has had on my life, and about how many therapy and journaling sessions I’ve devoted to it, but I had a particular experience this week that I found absolutely fascinating and couldn’t resist sharing. 

 Last night, while talking to Ross (my husband), I said I wanted to open the mint chip ice cream we had in the freezer and have some for dessert. He was supportive, of course. I’d purchased it on sale (it’s my favorite Chapman’s flavor) and I was looking forward to it. 

Perhaps a half hour after we chatted, I realized I hadn’t yet gotten up from the table to get myself some ice cream. I washed my hands, grabbed a bowl and spoon, removed the ice cream from the freezer, removed the layer of plastic wrapped around the carton, and began scooping myself ice cream. The bowl isn’t especially large, as it fits in the palm of my hand, but it easily fits a lot of ice cream in it. I remember scooping some, and then more, and then more so it went over the top of the bowl, and then filling in some of the gaps, and then I’m sure I had my inner critic chime in that it was plenty and I’d want some later so leave some for the rest of the week. I put away the carton and grabbed my bowl and spoon. 

It wasn’t until I set the ice cream down on the table that I looked at it and thought to myself, why is there so much ice cream in my bowl? 

Common reasons I might have told myself I was having a large portion of ice cream in the past have included: 

• I’m really hungry
• I’m having one of those days where nothing satiates me…ice cream will
• I need more protein today (yes, that’s a real reason I’ve given myself) 
• I don’t want to leave a little bit in the carton
• It’s a special celebration day
• I’m at an ice cream place I won’t be back to for a while (or ever), so enjoy it now
• This ice cream place is seasonal and closing soon – make the most of it
• I’m having a tough day. Ice cream will make me feel better

I’m sure there are others as well. But do you know what I realized last night? 

I hadn’t had ANY of those thoughts. Because I actually hadn’t stopped to think. At ALL. I’d had the gut impulse/light bulb moment/memory of my conversation with Ross which then sent me into the kitchen to get myself ice cream. 

And then I brought it to the table. Then, and only then, did I look at how much ice cream I’d given myself and think, hmm, I’m not especially hungry. I’ve got some healthier habits I’m working on. I would have even been happier with a smaller bowl. Why in the world did I give myself so much ice cream? 

And the answer, clear as day, that came to me, was because I hadn’t stopped to think. 

At all. 

So, if that isn’t making sense to you, congratulations! You’re probably not an 8, 9, or 1 on the Enneagram. You may not be a dependent number (a 1, 2, or 6) either. 

These three numbers, 8/9/1, are in the “gut” or “anger” or “rage” triad. Part of what makes us unique is that we are dominant “doers”. We all rely heavily on “doing” as we go about our day, with different flavors for each number. As a 1, I’m predominantly “doing” when I am in my automatic, auto-pilot part of my being (which is most of the time, for most of us), with this doing fed by how I am feeling about things, though I may not be self-aware enough to be able to articulate the feeling underneath it. When stressful things happen and I feel things, I react to my feelings by doing. But the main thing here, when we’re in this triad, is that we are doers. We are “doing dominant”. 

(Side note – 8s are doing dominant, supported by thinking, and 9s would be both doing dominant and doing repressed, but that’s a story for another day.) 

Now, this isn’t a bad thing about myself; it just is. But the other piece of this puzzle is that as a member of the dependent stance (made up of 1s, 2s, and 6s), I am by definition thinking repressed. This means that I am less likely to do productive thinking than the members of the other two stances. 

Members of the dependent stance are certainly thinking a lot, perhaps even more than others, but that doesn’t mean our thinking is necessarily productive. We are defined by the fact that it is a big challenge for us to bring up productive thinking, at least if we haven’t done a LOT of work. 

So, as a person who thinks of herself (and is thought of by others) as a pretty smart person, I’ve had to wrestle a lot with how repressed thinking shows up for me. 

And last night, my goodness. Is that not a perfect example of it? 

There were so many times along the path from refrigerator to table where I could have stopped to think: Do I want a small amount of ice cream, or a large one? How hungry am I right now? I’ve got some health goals for the future – should I consider those right now? Am I having a strong craving? How would I feel if I didn’t eat ice cream tonight? 

My friends, I thought none of those things. I simply got myself a big bowl of ice cream. 

And honestly, if I hadn’t done a lot of work on myself, between studying the Enneagram and mental fitness (which has been my best tool for slowing down these auto-pilot moments), I don’t think I would have even noticed. 

(This is also, more generally, a perfect example of the kind of automatic responses and habits built into our personality that require a practice of non-judgmental self-observation to be able to recognize it and potentially make another choice. The Enneagram and mental fitness are both beautiful tools for this.)

Of course, as soon as I observed myself at the table, it got me thinking. What factor has this behavior played when I’ve worked on losing weight? What factor has this played in changing my habits to healthier ones? If I could gain more awareness in this moment, perhaps even long enough to do a short mindfulness exercise, could I eat less each night? How would that feel? 

I’ve let go of wanting to be a particular size, for the most part. My only holdout is a couple of beautiful dresses I will likely never be able to wear again. But I think I’m going to be okay with that. However, I want my future self to be as fit as I am currently. And I’ve realized recently, in part influenced by the book Outlive, that if I want to be this fit at 60, or at 80, I need to become super-fit NOW. Because our bodies have a tendency to lose muscle, and lose strength, lose stability as we age, the only way to set myself up for a healthy retirement is actually to get MORE fit than I would otherwise care to right now. 

Obviously, to even think about doing that requires some privileges, and I’m not fully convinced if this is even a realistic goal for me in my life right now. But I do have it in the back of my mind as I explore steps I can take, and habits I can form, moving in that direction. 

And I guess what I’m saying is, we talk about mindless eating. I don’t do that anymore. My eating is truly mindful. I savor each bite or at least one bite of each food I have on my plate, and I truly take my time and enjoy my meals. But only now am I aware of mindless plating! 

Have you observed yourself in moments like this? If you’ve studied the Enneagram, did it teach you anything about your own habits you’d like to share? 

Photo by Jiří Dočkal