Why Eating Can Make Me Depressed

I've returned to Barnard on a pretty dreary day, so I feel compelled to open up the week with a pretty dreary post. Yet, as with all dreariness, it's designed to make you think rather bring you further down in the doldrums. So, enjoy.

I consider myself a conscientious eater. I have made peace with my food issues, questioned the food fads put up in the media, and tried to separate eating from body image and make both of those more positive.
Yet I still get caught up on one particular eating paradigm: sustainable eating. This (admittedly very long) article by Michael Pollan opened up that can of worms again for me, the first time having been after I read his book The Omnivore's Dilemma. The article, and his book, tout the mantra "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." He goes on to debunk the myths of nutrient-based nutrition and favors whole foods for the reason that they are better both for the farmer and the eater. And I find all that wonderful, interesting, and something that I want to apply to my life - until I reach the grocery store or the restaurant.
Finding whole foods in the grocery store is easy enough if I stick to the right aisles (produce, meat, dairy), but the basic fact is that these foods need preparation. Which means equipment and time. For a college student that doesn't have an oven, that rules out a lot of possibilities. So, heading deep into the center aisles, I began to scour labels and decide what a whole food looks like when industrially prepared. Those foods I found that contained even something that remotely resembled a whole food were extremely expensive. Again, a college budget does not allow for much wiggle room. What I came out with wasn't nearly what Pollan intended when he sat down to write that article.
Thus I came out of the grocery store anxious and somewhat depressed at my gatherings, and with one key question: how can I possibly make sustainable eating work for me? Or for anyone else who has a low-budget and low-time lifestyle?

The answer is two-fold:
1. Giving yourself a darn break. I think sustainable eating has to come in small increments; on the one hand, because American culture hasn't caught on to it, on the other because you can't flip a switch and change your monetary situation, the amount of time you have, or your cultivated eating habits from childhood on up. Pollan presents some good ideas, but self-selecting the parts you can do and setting aside those you can't requires a personal evaluation.
2. Separating self-worth from eating. Thinking about the emotions that came up for me after I left the grocery store, they were very much akin to those I had when I was dieting. Sustainable eating presented an unrealistic set of goals that, when I failed to meet them, caused me to spiral down the ramp of low self-esteem in the exact same way. While this is not to say that sustainable eating is the same thing as dieting or that you do it for the same reasons, but the association between eating habits and self-worth is the same. The only way to make changes without those same negative thoughts is to recognize and recognize that the two are not parallel.
Pollan may include some really good ideas for a fulfilling sustainable eating pattern, but he doesn't address any of the other concerns (money, time, or emotion) surrounding what you put on your plate. It's up to everyone else to fill in those gaps with their own solutions.
What is your take? Should sustainable eating even be put in the same sentence as dieting? Does it exclude people? Should it be the norm? And how would you make it happen if that were your own goal?

You might also be interested in posts about eating at restaurants.

Exquisite Intentions

Heathy and I have been palling around the mud huts for days now, and it is quite entertaining and also quite infuriating. Mainly because of things that are out of our control. Like money, trains, and clothing sizes.
It's interesting to be here, in the same house [which has been vastly improved, I would say, cleanliness-wise] and with the same things breathing down our necks. I had a strange stitch of wanting for home yesterday night, thinking about how clutter in my house to this magntude would probably send me seizuring but how it seems to be improvement here. I got particularly repulsed by the kitchen - which just disturbs me because of the rotting fruit. But it's not like this place is bad, it's just that I am a sort of clean freak (didn't know that until just recently - I literally wanted to start mucking out the pots and pans).
On the other side of it, the money is still a constant problem in Heathy's house. And her parents are really good at putting stuff off so that there is less money and more hassle later on - similar to our government. But that, I think, is a character flaw. As well, the town is a hard sell for me. People and location are the equivalent of my worst nightmare: clique-ish, suburban, and horridly dry at times.
However, this bitching has just been wallowing in my stomach lately without outlet. It's hard not to be optimistic here because of Heathy's personality of intense idealism. Though she gets sad at times, I admire her strength in feeling ok about living here. For myself, it makes me appreciate my own city and situation - and want to improve upon it by saving cash.
Next year will be another year of figuring out who I am. This year [as I talk to myself in that strange way, as if I were an outsider in my own head-office] we have found out my interests, weaknesses, needs for improvement, strengths, and malfunctions. Next year, it will be time for us to take this information to the next level and really bring me out into the open. I feel much less scared than when I started this blog [which, although it was not that long ago, I can read back and see exactly how hard it was for me to open up].
For now, it's back to the living with love in our hearts and idealism in our heads - a new but startlingly interesting subject for me.