Feed the Need

Some might say I have an instant gratification problem.

Working in a store where miles and miles of tasty edibles surround me at all times is really bad for my sense of proportion when in comes to control. I find most days I never actually eat a meal, instead picking at bites depending on whatever momentary food impulse I happen to feel. It's one of those places where I can say, "Hmm.. I feel like having a one bite of chicken covered in pancetta cream sauce followed by a single taste of raspberry nutella pastry. Rationally, I realize this isn't normal behavior, but from my perspective, it's become so totally commonplace that I have no other frame of reference. Consequently, because I am never eating much, I am eating almost all the time. Having the ability to bring all of this with me when I go home only makes matters worse. While it is most excellent that I haven't had to grocery shop in months, I also slightly ashamed to admit that there have been whole months that would pass without me ever feeling truly hungry.

Eating, it can generally be agreed upon, originated as a means for the consumption of nutrients. Hunger then was most likely a byproduct of a system set up to distribute fuel. Like a gauge on a car, a hunger pang is a warning sign that the body needs some more to run on. However, over time hunger has become more than a simple biological indicator, "hunger" may occur when the body is not really hungry. In fact, in my case, I find that the more consistently I am always "full" the more I am always generally "hungry" for tastes of the things surrounding me. This observation has me wondering what is the purpose of hunger, hunger for sustenance, hunger for love, hunger for achievement, in our lives? What even is "hunger" at all?

There's a strange condition I read about in an article a year or so ago that has amazed scientists and frightens the bejesus out of me. Apparently, somewhere in the Midwest there is a giantly obese child of 10. This poor girl, whose name I forget and we'll henceforth call Laura, has some strange genetic defect that doctors could not pinpoint for many years. Laura always seemed to want to eat voraciously, beyond what any normal person could reasonably want to consume and soon because morbidly overweight. No matter what diet her mother tried, Laura would protest starvation even after entire meals. Eventually Laura's mother took the child to see someone and through some sciency explanation I don't have the wherewithal to remember, the doctors finally realized that Laura seemed to be devoid of the trigger that senses "full." Laura in fact was no only devoid of the ability to fill up but in its absence was left with constant and overactive brain sensations of starvation. So imagine if you will having just eaten an entire Thanksgiving dinner, stuffing yourself to the brim, and still feeling as if you hadn't had a bite in weeks.

Once the child was old enough to semi-fend for herself, whenever not under a watchful parental eye, she would steal away to the kitchen and gorge herself on whatever she could get her hands on to try and satisfy her inner urges, to the point where she would be rushed to the hospital to pump her stomach before it quite literally exploded. The article explained how now her mother was forced to padlock the fridge so that her daughter did not eat herself to death. Just imagine having to steel yourself against the cries of your own child weeping for hunger while you have to refuse...

Shudder.

This sisyphusian stranger than life tale would be my own 7th circle of hell. The thought of a constant gnawing hunger that never fades strike terror in the the very depth of my soul. Recently, I have been trying to curb my current state of constant satiation with moderate success. I think that unlike Laura, whose hunger is a very literal one, I am trying to curb my own constant emotional hunger. I think that the fear of the hunger in a bizarre way feeds the need to constantly head it off at the pass. I have always hoarded in all areas of my life, the depression era mentality was instilled, who knows from where, at an early age. But paradoxically, when I actually allow myself to get hungry, I can feel the full in better proportion. As if it is only because one has viewed the height from a low that it can be truly appreciated. Perhaps this is why I anecdotally find that people who have not had, in moderation of course, can really enjoy all the things they now do have, again in moderation, with greater joy than those who have never had to do without.

It may be that hunger is a bit like ambition, while too much may become consuming to the point of obliteration of enjoying the things around you, and none at all may allow one to fall into the trap of lethargy, a little bit applied well can take you a long, long way.