Editor’s note: The following story references disordered eating.

“Food is fuel.” I’ve heard the cliché my entire life, and it never resonated. Food has always represented much more to me: a reason to gather, a way to celebrate holidays, a source of nostalgia and novelty. To see food as proverbial gas in the tank seemed clinical.

But food has also been a source of deep personal anxiety, and in moments, downright pain. For many years, I was obsessive and compulsive with my eating behavior. A binge-and-restrict cycle became my norm, with food acting as the currency for doling out punishment and rewards.

As I worked with a therapist and mended my relationship with food, I started seeing it as nourishment for my spirit. This was actually fairly easy—I’ve always loved to eat.…