I didn’t realize I had a serious issue with food until I was standing in my kitchen with an hour left until a huge birthday dinner, angrily picking up and putting down some cashew milk based ice cream I had in my fridge.

Taking a few bites, anger rushed through my body and I threw out the remaining portion, feeling absolutely disgusted, disappointed, out of control.

I returned to my bedroom and mentally noted I would only order a salad at dinner since I “ate so much today.”

Did I eat so much? Well, I can tell you exactly what I had: two eggs, a banana with almond butter on a rice cake, a sweet potato baked in the oven, and a salad with black beans, carrots and tomatoes, topped with balsamic vinegar. Off the top of my head, I can tell you the amount of calories, fat content and added sugar.

Waking up in the morning feeling so hungry, my stomach actually hurts. But it feels good, in a sick way. When I’m able to skip a snack or not eat when I am craving a few dates or handful of blueberries, it’s a victory.

I’m always hungry. I said this out loud to my mom when I was home recently and she responded, “But maybe you are really hungry.”

That’s when I realized that, while I don’t have an eating disorder, my relationship with food is broken, so, so broken.

Suffering from IBS, a gluten and lactose intolerance, and loosely following the FODMAP diet, I can only eat certain foods, even down to specific fruits and vegetables. Because of this lifestyle change and increasing problems with my digestion and health, I’ve lost about 20 pounds since my senior year of high school.

I eat clean and simple. I don’t add salt or oil to my food. I don’t eat anything fried, battered or drenched in heavy sauce. I even try to stay away from garlic and onions. My dinners consist of iceberg lettuce, an egg, with veggies and plain white rice.

But I feel guilty when I eat. I get anxiety when I’m still hungry at the end of a meal, but I also get anxious if I eat too much. Even eating so clean still has me feeling disgusted at myself towards the last bite, whether it's a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough vegan ice cream or fruit.

And I don’t think I’m alone in this weird, negative relationship. Everyone wants to be fit, healthy, skinny and strong. But people also love comfort foods, snacking during a TV show and late night pizza with friends.

Food isn't just food. It's more complex than that. It's closely tied to our social schedules, whether it be trendy, Instagrammable brunches, delicate latte art or drunk food at Blue Ribbon Fried Chicken after a friend's birthday party at Josie's.

But what I have been going through is not just complex; it's dangerous and wrong. It shouldn't be normal or commonplace for me to feel this way over simply just trying to eat three meals a day.

So, when my hand touched the bottom of a bag of sugary granola, I realized this needs to stop. Weighing myself every morning in the same exact spot, my naked feet cold on the scale, needs to stop; counting calories all day needs to stop; obsessing over every single part of my meal needs to stop; wanting to be hungry needs to stop; but, most importantly, feeling ashamed of feeding myself needs to stop.

I think that’s the first step, recognizing that this attitude towards eating needs to change. While I’m unsure how to exactly change it, I know that if I don’t, my health will start being affected. From the finger that sometimes slides to the back of my throat, to the other hand grasping my hair, to the intense yoga sessions at 7 a.m., to the bloated stomach at 2 a.m., this needs to stop.

And I did what most lost 20-year-olds would do: I called my mom. I tried not to cry over the phone, because I didn’t want to freak my mom out. And I didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that isn’t important. But it was a Thursday night at 9 p.m., I had just gotten off work since 8 a.m., and I was tired. Tired of the office-appropriate dress that felt too tight.

Tired of caring so much about tiny details that bloated my stomach and made me feel disgusting.

“Wow, guess what, Mom? I can’t eat breakfast without feeling like I am an absolute failure! I can’t eat a handful of dates without feeling like I need to run 10 miles. I can’t enjoy an ice cream date, even when it’s vegan and I can actually eat it, without feeling like I am a thousand pounds too heavy.”

She told me I need to stop. That I need to eat when I’m hungry and that’s it. I need to stop paying so much attention to small details when feeding myself should be simple and easy. But you know what she told me that stuck out to me?

I’m not some supermodel or some professional clean eater. So what if I don’t have abs or eat too much or gain a few pounds or skip this workout session? I’m not perfect. And I don’t have to be.

She also pointed out that I am healthy and eat clean. I shouldn't feel guilty over feeling full from whole foods. Because, logically speaking, that's ridiculous. She made a distinction between someone who felt out of control with birthday cake and brownies versus me who feels guilty over dates and almond butter.

So, I’m not completely sure where this leaves me. But I know where I need to start. And if you find yourself in the same position, feeling guilty over eating even healthy items, start with calling your mom or your best friend or your roommate and go from there.

That's a start, and I think that's all we need sometimes.