Ah, the chicken nugget. If there is a more powerful symbol of the autistic relationship to food, I’ve yet to find it.
There is also no relationship more complex. Navigating food and diet has been one of the most conflicting parts about parenting an autistic child. On one hand, I’ve been there. Certain smells and textures were so repellant to me as a kid, they made me gag. The mushroom soup my babysitter served after school, my mom’s meatloaf and cabbage rolls… These still inform my adult nightmares (sorry Mom!).
When it comes to the autistic population, what looks like picky eating is far more complicated. It’s rarely attention-seeking, though it is plenty stressful from a parent’s perspective. I’ve been on both sides of the table, so to speak.
Eating is a highly charged activity. There are sensory factors at play, from textures to smells and sounds (misophonia). Mealtimes are fraught with anxiety and social expectation, which creates an added level of pressure for autistic folks. It is no wonder that many of us come to develop issues around eating.
There are often “safe foods” that we eat without fear or stress or revulsion; foods that are the emotional equivalent of a comfort blanket. Because of their predictability and consistency, these foods often become “samefoods”: things we eat on rotation repeatedly until we can no longer stand the sight of them.
In my house we all have breakfasts samefoods, and we do not deviate from our respective breakfasts ever if we can help it.
Although I thought most of my food issues were behind me, I’ve since realized this isn’t the case. While on holiday recently I ordered eggs. Now, eggs have been an iffy food since I was little. But in recent years I’ve come to enjoy them poached and scrambled. Unfortunately on this occasion my eggs arrived over easy (read: slimy). To most people they were perfectly edible. But—I could not touch them if my life depended on it.
And because of the language and communication barrier, nor could I explain my predicament. I wanted to gag and cry simultaneously. I felt physically nauseous and deeply ashamed at the prospect of sending them back and wasting food in a developing country. But I had no choice.
Autistic people would sooner eat nothing than eat certain foods. I get it.
Unfortunately over time Carson’s list of tolerated foods has shrunk. At 15, most of what they eat is bland or beige, highly processed and unhealthy.
I’ve tried to be chill, but it’s hard not to lose my mind over my kid’s diet. Because eating chicken nuggets is one thing. But eating chicken nuggets every single day is another thing.
Like many moms out there, I worry about my kid being malnourished and nutrient-deficient in a way that spells BAD PARENT.
Many of us were also raised at a time when you were expected to clear your plate or die trying. How many of us were reminded of the “starving children in Africa” as a means to guilt us into eating whatever disgusting thing was on our plate? How many of us could not leave the table until we had finished every last bite? That is a certain recipe for disordered eating.
Growing up with a single mom, I loved all the same junk food my teen loves, and I now berate them for these same food choices—which makes me a hypocrite, I know. Mac and cheese, Kraft singles, Premium Plus crackers, hot dogs, and of course, the beloved chicken nugget. These were my staples because we were poor but I now see they were also my staples because I was autistic.
Since I’ve learned to cook and experiment over the years, my relationship to food has changed dramatically. (Mind you, I still haven’t lost my sweet spot for Kraft Dinner.)
I want to raise my kid on fresh fruit and veg because I can and also because I didn’t have that privilege growing up. Alas, I am torn because although Carson’s health is paramount, I don’t want to exert control over their body and what they put into it. Nor do I want to give them the kind of food trauma that so many autistic folks endure.
My wish is for Carson to approach food with curiosity, not anxiety. I no longer force the issue. I will not cajole or threaten or bribe them into trying things. And yet, I pray that in their own time, at their own pace, they will come to discover new foods or return to some of the ones they used to enjoy.
What is your and/or your child’s relationship to food? How do you navigate mealtimes in your home?