Foster Care & Food Anxiety

I wouldn’t say that my shaky relationship with food is directly influenced by me being a foster kid, however it’s impacted by the trauma of foster care, and more importantly my childhood before care. I’ve never been to a psychologist to find out the root of my issues but I’m somewhat aware of the factors that have contributed to my history with food. For context I have always been slim, my mum is slim, her mum is slim, I am never going to be above a certain weight, and I think that’s why it’s important I have a healthy relationship with food because as I’ve learned its easy for me to become underweight quickly.

As a kid I was always a fussy eater, I didn’t like my food touching and honestly, I still avoid certain textures. But I think my fussiness was amplified when I moved from my Nans back to my Mums. It’s a well-known problem in the UK that poor kids are missing out on a healthy diet due to parents’ tight budgets, missing breakfast was the norm and porridge for dinner was a far to regular occurrence, food insecurity has only increased since I was little. A lack of funds wasn’t the only issue, my mum had unhealthy eating habits that rubbed off on me, we didn’t really have a regular eating pattern; breakfast, lunch, dinner, she preferred to binge. Sometimes she would go a whole day without eating and then binge chocolates, crisps, and biscuits at night. It’s not a healthy habit for a child to pick up.

Once I moved to a foster family, adjusting to a home with a regular routine, and regular food, was difficult. For the most part my foster-mum stuck to safe foods; spaghetti bolognaise, jacket potatoes and turkey dinosaurs until I had settled. At some point I started exploring new foods I hadn’t had before, and developed what I thought was a good relationship with food, but that didn’t stop everyone making comments about how slim I was. Are you eating enough? Yes. You're all skin and bone, we need to get some meat on you! It’s like it’s okay to body shame people, not only people but a CHILD, for something out of their control just because they're slim. I think the constant remarks about my weight from my foster parents, social workers, whoever, made me start to hate food.

In 2020, for reasons I still don’t understand, I decided I didn’t want any relationship with food anymore. The thought of eating gave me such anxiety that I just avoided it all together, and for a home whose day revolved around the family dinner at the end of the day that didn’t work. Maybe that was a contributing factor to why my placement broke down. Restricting my food was like a relief for me, it’s hard to explain but it made me feel in control of my life when for the most of my life I wasn’t. It wasn't just a mental block, it was physical too. Every time I ate I'd get stomach aches, and often be sick after a meal. Thankfully it didn’t last long, less than a year, but I think my lowest weight was about 36kg which is outrageous for any 16-year-old.

Me in 2020 VS 2024

2024 is a good time for my relationship with food, I love food, dinners are my favourite date nights and cooking is one of my favourite things to do. I have what I would consider a healthy diet – for a student- and extremely proud that I'm at the heaviest, and most healthy, weight I have ever been. Every now and again, for no reason, mid meal, the anxiety I used to feel will come back, and I’ve learned that’s okay. It’s okay not to finish every meal, and it’s okay to skip breakfast one morning, and it’s okay to binge every now and again.

I know this post seems like a muddled-up rant about my life, which it partly is, but I think my point was that when children go into foster care they go with a whole history. Not just what was written in their file, but other niche things that cause complications in their lives and standstills in their relationships. Our childhoods aren’t just childhoods, their often boxes and suitcases of unresolved traumas, big and small, that haven’t been addressed, and usually aren’t until we reach adulthood and forced to address them on our own. Something as simple as sitting down for a 'regular' family meal can be unsettling and scary.

POV of a Foster Kid, Jess x