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As my mother would pull into the driveway of my small but comfortable home after church, I could barely wait until she was successfully parked to unbuckle myself, open the door, and press the garage door opener. I would run in through our storage unit of a garage, where my family swore one day we would go through our junk and have a garage sale (still has not happened to this day), and smell the meat, potatoes, and carrots my mother slow cooked all night.

 

The garage door handle was cold, but as soon as I turned the nob and opened the door to the kitchen, I would feel the warmth from the crock pot on the stove and couldn’t even wait to change out of my Sunday dress.

 

Somehow, my mom would make the chuck roast in the pot soak up all the beef broth perfectly and cook the potatoes long enough for them to be mashed by the time they hit the red ceramic bowls reserved for Sunday lunches. The bowls would layer first with the potatoes with a slab of butter, then the fall-apart meat, and finally the soft baby carrots. I would pour salty beef broth on top and an additional sprinkle of salt and pepper.

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I’d come home with a spiritual high from being with my youth group, and knowing I’d have nothing to do after eating besides watching football and take a nap allowed me to absorb all the nutrients and warmth from the pot roast before I’d roll into my pajamas at 1 pm with a smile on my face. Keeping the sabbath day holy was one principle of the gospel my parents made sure to indoctrinate in our household, which included not spending money on Sundays. From childhood to early adulthood, Sundays looked almost identical to each other each week where I grew to love the consistency compared to the chaotic six other days. Church began at the ripe time of 9am to 12 each week – feeling even longer if it was Fast Sunday. For those days, the torn apart white bread my church would bless to represent the body of Christ with the small cup of water symbolizing His blood known as sacrament was considered breakfast. I learned to appreciate the Sabbath and the way it encouraged my family to slow down, catch up on sleep, and breathe before the week ahead of us.

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However, as soon as the clock struck 12 am on Monday, it seemed like stress automatically filled my body. I woke up at 5 am each day to get to an early morning church class at 6-7am. I have always been one to fill my schedule as much as I could, perhaps because my parents wouldn’t get home until 6 pm anyway and I knew we didn’t have any leftovers or groceries at home to fill my time with cooking. After school I was either playing volleyball, managing wrestling, or running track. My academics have always been important to me, so homework would fill in the gaps between practices and bedtime. My father is a retired firefighter, but he was the assistant chief for most of my life, which was a great outlet for his controlling yet hardworking personality that was hard to get along with at times, but made for a great chief.

 

My mother worked long hours as a dental hygienist with a 40-minute commute time each day, and without the knowledge of cooking her mother failed to show her, a lot of 8 pm dinners included a run to Culver’s, calling our favorite local pizza place for carry out, or an easy microwavable TV dinner to get us through the night without our stomachs rumbling.

 

This is not uncommon for many families in the greedy American food system as it is easy to fall for the ease of consumption fast food companies make it for hard working families and disguises its harm to the family, the finances, and the relationships to food as a quick $5 meal(1). During the week, my home lacked the sense of relaxation it always had on Sundays. When I would get home from school or practice, I’d feel overwhelmed with stress, knowing another busy day awaited me. I’d open the refrigerator, only to find it stocked with nothing but a few expired sauces and some Kroger chicken salad.

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After a week of work and school, Saturday was my family’s day to prepare for Sunday and the rest of next week. Grocery shopping was not something I looked forward to each week, as I knew I would be volunteered by my father to go with my mom to Kroger as his patience level was not as high as mine. My parents would rarely have a grocery list for us to get for the week, though I know we always needed milk, eggs and bread. Combined with having a strict budget we would have to stick to, our grocery trips were often chaotic.

 

My mom would go through each aisle and wait to “be inspired” to know what to get for the week, which is stressful for a type A person like myself.

 

Saturdays seemed to be many families designated day to shop as we would at times have to wait for a parking spot to open and always have a line between aisles, adding to my stress and anxiety throughout the day. However, the upside to being the designated grocery store helper meant I would have input on what to eat for Sunday lunch. I would always have a craving for meat, potatoes, and carrots – both for the taste and the overall warmth I knew would satisfy me after a stressful week.

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Growing up as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, most of my knowledge of health was centered around physical and spiritual health. We were introduced from a young age to a concept called the “Word of Wisdom”, which is a set of guidelines on what church members should eat and drink to keep their mind and bodies “healthy” such as whole grains, sparingly meat, and fruits and vegetables. The “Word of Wisdom” also highlighted the idea of what not to do to your bodies, such as drink alcohol, smoke tobacco, or drink tea/coffee/any caffeine as these create an addiction and will not allow church members to have a clear enough mind to reach the highest order of heaven. A lot of the measures of health, both physical and spiritual, created a lot of judgement between members at church - something that initially caused me to take a step back from going to church. Part of being a healthy member of the church was also being able to have your meals with your family, often accompanied by scripture study and prayers. My family’s busy schedule caused these expectations to be unattainable at times, though I always believed we tried our best.

 

I saw the guilt my father felt at having a different lifestyle than most of the members at church, though looking back, I see that this level of health is unachievable for most lower/middle class families living in the US.

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To me, the “Word of Wisdom” felt limited to families that only fit the stereotype of having a father making over six figures to cover the mother from needing to work and focused her time on taking care of the children, home, and meals. I also did not believe if someone drank hot coffee that they were less than worthy of going to heaven, or that someone that was incapable of exercising due to a physical disability would lose their access to heaven. Though I had my differences in what I believe health encapsulated, I felt unable to exercise my freedom of agency to stop going to church until I was in college on my own. Yet although the church’s culture had other factors that drew me away, I missed the routine in respecting the Sabbath at home each week as I could feel the weight of stress decompress off my family’s shoulders each Sunday.

 

As I have grown as a young adult and felt comfortable to follow my gut and partake in spiritual experiences outside the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I noticed my family was missing a critical part of health that was not spoken or taught from the “Word of Wisdom”: the importance of mental health.

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My relationship with food along with the relationship between my family felt disrupted by the high expectation of being a healthy family full of individually healthy people. I think each of my family members felt like we “should be doing more” to eat better or spend more time together when in reality we were restricted by what the American food and work systems were allowing us to achieve. Health has been defined both in society and within my church as an ideology depending on the specific lifestyle and behavior on the individual, forcing the mindset as “If you wanted to lose weight and eat organic and whole foods, then you would” without taking into account the socioeconomic restraints healthism is tied to(2).​