I\u2019m a grown woman and I\u2019ve never eaten sushi. I\u2019ve never tasted avocado or grapefruit or chicken wings or pickles or yogurt and, not to rock your world, but I\u2019ve never had a cup of coffee. In fact, the list of foods I\u2019ve never eaten is far, far longer than the list of those I have.<\/p>\n
For most of my life, I had no idea why the thought of eating many foods would make me gag. I knew I wasn\u2019t a garden-variety picky eater, but until very recently, I wasn\u2019t aware that there was a name for it.<\/p>\n
Now I know better. I have ARFID<\/a> (avoidant\/restrictive food intake disorder), an eating disorder that used to be called SED (selective eating disorder). In simple terms, it\u2019s a food phobia in which swallowing certain foods, or even thinking of swallowing them, leads to undesirable outcomes like the throat involuntarily closing, retching and vomiting.<\/p>\n My eating disorder began when I was a child. My family would go out for Chinese food and I would only eat white rice. Slightly older, I graduated to egg rolls, but only the outside. I have vivid memories of my father scraping out the cabbage filling and handing me the empty shell.<\/p>\n I have a particularly traumatic memory of facing off with my father over some pan-fried liver. I was young, probably no more than 6 or 7. I was anemic and my mother prepared the liver to help with my anemia. But I refused to eat it.<\/p>\n As I sat across the table from my father, he told me, \u201cWe\u2019re going to sit here until you eat this. And if you don\u2019t eat it tonight, I\u2019ll serve it to you for breakfast. And it will be cold.\u201d<\/p>\n He eventually gave in, but my victory was not sweet. I had no way to explain what I was feeling at the time. I wasn\u2019t a willful child, but I knew I\u2019d never be able to swallow the liver.<\/p>\n As I grew, more foods were added to my repertoire, but the list of foods I refused to eat was always longer.<\/p>\n Significantly longer.<\/p>\n Picky eating is common enough among children, but when I became a mother myself and I didn\u2019t know anyone else like me, I started looking for answers. I contacted a university professor who conducted research on picky eating in children. He referred me to one of his graduate students who had done research on picky eating in adults.<\/p>\n \nAs I grew, more foods were added to my repertoire, but the list of foods I refused to eat was always longer. Significantly longer.<\/span>\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n In her dissertation, I read about adults whose entire diet consisted of fewer than 10 foods. I knew I wasn\u2019t a normal eater, but I wasn\u2019t quite that restrictive. She also found statistically significant associations between her subjects and a range of neurological and psychological issues, such as autism and OCD, from which I did not suffer. Her dissertation was interesting, but it didn\u2019t represent me or give me any insight into my own behavior.<\/p>\n Then, a few years ago, I stumbled on a Facebook support group for picky eaters. I was astonished by what I discovered there. Not only were there other adults like me, there was a whole community of us. There was an actual name for the behavior I thought was so idiosyncratic. Naming it was a great relief.<\/p>\n ARFID is a relatively recent addition to the DSM-V, the fifth edition of The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders,\u00a0which health care providers use to assist with diagnosis. However, since the vast majority of health care providers are not yet familiar with ARFID, patients are often unable to get a clinical diagnosis.<\/p>\n Once I found the Facebook support group, I knew for certain that my physical inability to swallow certain foods, and the anxious feeling I have around them, are proof positive that what I\u2019ve long thought of as a quirky relationship with food has an actual diagnosis. I don\u2019t need a clinician, who likely knows less about ARFID than I do, to confirm that. Decades of being faced with foods I can\u2019t physically eat even if I want to are all the confirmation I need.<\/p>\n People with ARFID refer to foods they can eat comfortably as \u201csafe foods.\u201d My list of safe foods is more extensive than many others who suffer with this eating disorder, but that doesn\u2019t mean I don\u2019t experience an anxious dread when faced with the prospect of having to swallow many conventional foods.<\/p>\n Every person with ARFID has their own individualized list of safe foods. As is common, but not universal, many of my safe foods are carbs, like pizza, pasta and white potatoes or calorie dense foods like nuts. That complicates efforts to maintain a healthy weight.<\/p>\n Other safe foods for me are idiosyncratic. For example, chicken breast is a safe food for me, but wings, legs or thighs are not. Yellow and orange peppers are safe, but not red. Dishes made with ground beef have a high chance of being safe, but steak or lamb chops are never safe foods for me. Most kinds of ice cream are not safe foods for me; only plain vanilla is always safe and only if it\u2019s rock hard. Broccoli and onions are safe but mushrooms, asparagus, beets, tomatoes, olives and turnips all invoke the tightening of the throat.<\/p>\n If there\u2019s a pattern to which foods are consistently safe for me, I\u2019ve never been able to identify it. I can look at a food and know instantly, by the way my body reacts, whether or not it\u2019s something I will be able to eat without gagging.<\/p>\n Over the past few decades, I\u2019ve adapted to my quirky palate. I learned to cook and have introduced dozens of new foods into my repertoire of safe foods. But I\u2019m still not a normal eater. And ARFID still interferes with my social life.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve had significant relationships in which my limited palate has created tension, either because I\u2019ve refused to try certain cuisines or specific foods or because I won\u2019t eat at particular restaurants where there are no safe foods on the menu. When I do identify a safe food at a restaurant, I\u2019ll usually order the same thing every time.<\/p>\n My husband, whose palate is as wide as mine is narrow, is remarkably accepting and accommodating. On our honeymoon 23 years ago, we stepped into a takeout restaurant with a U-shaped buffet. Dozens of dishes were displayed. I quickly scanned the entire buffet. Finding no safe foods there, I turned to my new husband and said, simply, \u201cNah.\u201d<\/p>\n Today, we laughingly refer to foods that are unsafe for me as \u201cnah foods.\u201d I consider it a big blessing that my children do not suffer from ARFID, since living with it can be something of a buzzkill.<\/p>\n \nOn our honeymoon 23 years ago, we stepped into a takeout restaurant with a U-shaped buffet. Dozens of dishes were displayed. I quickly scanned the entire buffet. Finding no safe foods there, I turned to my new husband and said, simply, ‘Nah.’<\/span>\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Close friends all know that I \u201ceat weird.\u201d Some friends make it a point to always have yellow peppers available whenever we\u2019re invited over. Some will make dishes I\u2019ve been known to eat in the past. If I feel close enough to someone, I will tell them specifically what they could make that I would be able to eat. <\/span> It\u2019s still awkward with new friends and I\u2019m not comfortable dwelling on it. I don\u2019t mention ARFID. I usually just acknowledge that I eat weird or call myself a picky eater. Then I cross my fingers and hope they aren\u2019t interested enough to ask any follow-up questions. <\/span> Being invited to a meal at someone\u2019s home for the first time remains a challenge. I\u2019ve been to dinner parties where people comment uncomfortably on what I\u2019m eating (or not eating) and I\u2019ve been to meals where the only safe foods for me were, quite literally, bread and water. <\/span> Even though it\u2019s a lot more work, I generally prefer to host than to be a guest because it avoids the predictable, albeit uncomfortable dance that ensues if I tell the host in advance that I\u2019m a picky eater.<\/span> Host<\/strong>: Just tell me what you don\u2019t eat and I\u2019ll work around that.<\/span> Although I don\u2019t know how or why this food phobia started for me, there are a few things I do know. ARFID goes way beyond ordinary picky eating. And the majority of people with ARFID don\u2019t just outgrow it. <\/span> The support group has been genuinely helpful. I am now aware there are clinical hypnotherapy treatments reported to be highly successful with adults like me. The treatment is an investment. I haven\u2019t tried it yet, but neither have I ruled it out. <\/span> Turns out, there might yet be sushi in my future.<\/span><\/p>\n Rivkah Lambert Adler is a freelance journalist, book reviewer and adult educator, specializing in Jewish and Israel content. She is the editor of \u201cTen From The Nations: Torah Awakening Among Non-Jews\u201d and the creator of \u201c100 Days of Thanking Hashem: A Jewish Gratitude Journal.\u201d Raised in the U.S., she now lives in Israel.<\/em><\/p>\n Do you have a compelling personal story you\u2019d like to see published on HuffPost?\u00a0Find out what we\u2019re looking for\u00a0here<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0send us a pitch<\/a>!<\/em><\/p>\n
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<\/br><\/span>Me<\/strong>: The list of foods I don\u2019t eat is quite long. I\u2019ll just bring my own food. I don\u2019t want you to go to any trouble.<\/span>
<\/br><\/span>Host<\/strong>: I want to make something you\u2019ll enjoy. I don\u2019t want you to have to bring your own food.<\/span>
<\/br><\/span>Me<\/strong>: (feeling squeamish and embarrassed) OK, here are the foods I do eat, but I really don\u2019t want to cause you extra work. (I then proceed to share a limited and very specific list of safe foods, hoping that the host is not rolling their eyes and wishing they had never invited me in the first place).<\/span>
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