“Food is love,” Master Pravus always has told me. “Food means love.” And I don’t understand that language because even when I didn’t use a feeding tube, I liked food but like, I didn’t find it to be a thing I used for comfort. Pleasures of the flesh, yes.. But if I was sad or crying or upset I never thought about food. Maybe people or objects or places, but not.. Food.
“I had a bad day,” he’ll sometimes say. But then follow it up with “Do you wanna get ice cream?”
“I can’t believe how awful I feel. You wanna get pizza?”
“I can make that mac and cheese if it would cheer you up…”
And I would do those things if they would cheer him up, but they wouldn’t be things that cheer me up. That’s just not how to comfort an ailing Red Vinyl Kitty. But it’s not a bad thing, I mean, it’s good to know exactly how to comfort my Master. Sad Master, heal heart with happy foods. As you do.
But Master Pravus’ heart is ingrained with patterns of “food is love.” He will tell you stories of why from his childhood. He’ll tell you about how his gramma would feed him fancy sammiches for him and his best friend (redacted), he’ll tell you how he never got to have tasty food at home because his Dad was born diabetic and blind and there wasn’t “good” food there. He’ll tell you about how his nanny used to make him special foods sometimes when his parents weren’t looking. He’ll tell you all kinds of cute food stories. And I honor those. I think they’re really sweet.
But I still don’t feel personally compelled to eat when I’m sad. I don’t know why, but when I get sad, I never think about eating or food. My stomach sort of shuts off. It doesn’t even feel attached. I don’t even think about eating. And now, I think of eating even less so than I did before I guess, with my gastroparesis. But Master Pravus thinks about my eating probably moreso. He says it’s his Italian heritage. I don’t know what it is exactly.
I’m not calling him wrong. What I’m saying is, he’s always been the type of person to leave food lying around if he thought maybe I would eat it. And now he seems to do it even more. If he thinks I might pick at some dry toast or crackers he’ll just put it near me, because if he asks if I want it I’ll just say “Nah,” or “No,” but it won’t seem worth it to me to bother if I will only take three bites and not finish. I just hate wasting food and not finishing it is a waste to me. And I can’t usually finish, so I just won’t try.
But literally Master Pravus will tell me “Trying is never a waste, because if you ate it then any part you couldn’t eat didn’t matter. That was your best. Your best.” I’m trying to accept this. It’s hard. I still don’t love trying if I will waste food. I will waste anything given to me that’s edible because I can’t finish even a piece of toast. >.>
The other day Master Pravus brought me a little bit of food. I knew I wouldn’t finish it, but I knew what he was trying to say. He was trying to say “I love you.” That’s why he brought me food. He wanted to say I love you. I try to think clearly, but I don’t get enough formula, and I can’t always. I literally can’t always think straight despite my best efforts so sometimes my words come out a little jumbled. I meant to say “Thank you,” But what came out instead was “I love you too.” He hadn’t actually said anything and it kind of startled him, but he smiled and he just said “I love you.” “I know,” I said. I saw it on the plate he brought me.