Swallow It Down

I’m learning how to feed myself—when, how much, how often.

For the first twenty-two years of my life, I was fed. My mother made me breakfast, lunch, and dinner, usually meat and potatoes. Hearty meals borne from her farm-family upbringing. Very few preservatives or dyes or unpronounceable ingredients. 

I had an unlimited meal plan for the first three years of college. Swipe into the dining hall. Swipe for a sandwich or a slop bowl. Everything was hot and ready, prepared and pre-portioned. Frictionless. I didn’t have to think about when or where or what to eat, freeing up my decision-making power for more important endeavors like smoking Black & Milds under the 7th Street Bridge. 

When I stepped over that threshold from adolescence to adulthood, nobody told me that feeding myself would be one of the more challenging parts of the transition. Eating goes from being a built-in part of my day to an exhausting, recurring decision that can’t be made once, but rather, must be done day after day ad infinitum. 

Often, I miss the days of being handed my rations and told to swallow them down, without worry, without cognition. But those days are gone, and I can no longer stomach that daily bread.

My husband and I have been on a health journey this year. Together, we have lost fifty pounds, and we’ve learned a lot about what’s in the food we are eating—the calorie content, macronutrients, and micronutrients. We no longer eat what’s most convenient or comforting. We ask questions before consuming. This too has been true of my spiritual journey.

From a very young age, I was force-fed absolute truths—non-negotiables of the evangelical faith. Love the sinner, hate the sin. Women cannot be preachers. Modest is hottest. Catholics aren’t Christians. Real Christians have to be Republicans. Men should be the head of the household. 

Like building a discerning palette, I have grown in spiritual discernment, and I’ve learned, through reading scripture, seeking counsel, and prayer, that many of these “truths” have little to do with the gospel and person of Christ. Where Christ brings freedom, these “truths” work subjugation. Where Christ includes, these “truths” exclude.

A dessert baked with salt instead of sugar, these “truths” are hard to swallow. 

As much as I want to go back to simpler times—when truth was handed to me like a prepared meal—it’s impossible. I have changed too much and my circumstances have changed too much to allow such thoughtless consumption.

This essay was written from the prompt "swallow it down." Several members of my writers group used this prompt to write poetry and prose.