Throughout life, there is no doubt that I am a picky eater. In fact, I still am. But now as I live on my own, I have learned and accepted it for what it is and even though I know I need to be healthier; I know that I can only do the best I can do.

From an early age, there were many foods I avoided. I would not have any parts of them. My parents were stern in the beginning and tried to always get me to eat foods that they fixed, yet there are still foods even as living as an adult that my parents knew I would not eat. Sometimes, this meant modifying the item to my liking such as making me a mini meatloaf while they had stuffed peppers. Sometimes this meant that I had my own food that I could either pop in the microwave or toaster oven if I had to. As my father was diagnosed with celiacs disease some years ago, more freedom was given to me in what I could eat as I contributed my keep at their house by buying the groceries. It also left my mother and I more freedom at times as we would often eat separately from my father.

Throughout the lowest points in my journey when I was in psychiatric hospitals and eventually residential treatment, except for the last hospital, I was not given a choice of my food intake. By the time I got too residential, my fellow residents knew one of the hospitals was famous for having chocolate milk and was sometimes thought of being better of residential, it was known as the “best chocolate milk.” One time, the cook made it for us, and you thought we had hit the lottery. Other times, there were some unpleasant situations when there were items that I just could not tolerate. I eventually had them written in my support plan and I thought that was the best accommodation ever.

But, living on my own, it gave me the allowance to have the food that I knew that I could and wanted to eat. Initially, I was not cooking a lot, mainly because I was mentally unstable. It also did not help that my first home was adjacent to a national pizza chain that within a few clicks I could order something and just walk over there and get it. That same place was also my friend when I had my urges for soda at night and I would go and pay the absurd amount for it. After my last manic episode, I quit caffeine cold turkey and have not gone back. Yet that behavior arises each morning for a soda, caffeine or not. Even since then, I do not drink anywhere near the amount I once drunk of unhealthy, over sugared beverages.

Through the help of my day services, I was able to gain the skills of using the stove top and oven in addition to already using the toaster oven, air fryer and microwave. Moving to where I currently reside, being a distance from the stores and food places, I had to work on planning and executing meals. I do receive help from the local food pantry. You must take all the food that you get. There is often food that I eat, and I am exceptionally grateful. What I do not use goes to the local blessing boxes and little free pantries, something that I am quite resourceful to and use my talents in advocating and promoting for.

My day service also helped when I was going to work through them by allowing me to purchase their daily meal they prepare to take home, which was helpful. As many of my co-members are also very picky eaters, the menu is incredibly detailed explaining every food item and condiment going on an entrée every day. It is immensely helpful in making decisions. I am also very grateful for their continued accommodations over the years.

Throughout the years, I have learned that while I am a picky eater, there is food my body just cannot tolerate, and I have accepted it as such for what is. Is it ideal? No, but through things like being mindful and practicing calories in and calories out among other better practices, it will not be so bad.