>>Unfortunately, I have experienced this sensation so I can describe it first-hand. It's rather odd. When I was a kid, I could go to a buffet and get 2 or 3 plates of food before stopping, but now I have maybe 1 and I'm done. They say that the grieving forget to eat, and they meant it.
>>At first my hunger was nonexistent because of the emotional distress. It was like I didn't have a stomach at all. Maybe it's the chest pain from all the heartache of losing someone so close forever that distracts you from hunger enough that you think the nerve endings are cut, or maybe it's the gut-wrenching physical reaction to the intense stress induced by the loss which simply overrides hunger because the pain is more obvious. Perhaps it's just that someone who is mourning can't focus on something as ritualistic as eating without making an effort out of it. Whatever it is, it severs your senses of touch and taste forever and distorts them into a whole new personality of their own.
>>For the longest time, at least a year (and still to this day sometimes), everything I put in my mouth tasted like cardboard. I had no lure toward food no matter what it was, in fact looking at food made me feel a little nauseous at first. I ate because my boyfriend at the time was a dream come true and was making sure I ate daily. (It's not like I was going to remember to. The natural drive was gone.) When I did eat, a bit of the nerve endings worked in my stomach, but it felt more like an upcoming illness than that satisfaction of being full.
>>I had a brief period where sweets, particularly Reese's peanut butter cups, tasted exactly what they used to taste like when I was a child. What a wonder! The rich sweetness of the chocolate meshing with the salty peanut butter was the first thing that had tasted edible in months, and it was superb. I would eat 8-packs at a time I was so thrilled to taste something. The only issue was is that I hadn't had Reese's in years (since my childhood probably), and it made me worry if the grief was making my mind revert back to a simpler conscious to reduce the pain by creating a childlike denial of it.
>>I'm still not really sure if that's true or why Reese's became delicious again, but slowly other foods gained flavor. None of them have the same luster that they used to, but it's better than cardboard. That occasional rumble gurgles in my stomach, and on those days I'm thankful that the stress weighs a little bit less with each passing day.
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