How To Survive This Election Year

It’s all over those magazines. You know, the ones that line the aisle at CVS full of candy and sunscreen. Eating alone is the chic, mile marker of a woman who is comfortable and confident in who she is; extra points if she sips a chilled glass of Sancerre and nibbles a salad. A wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses are now optional. This is 2024, after all.

It’s not that big of a stretch for most of us, really. We’re often grabbing a sandwich to scarf alone in our cubicle to avoid the latest saga of a co-worker's internet dating escapades. A hospital cafeteria is the last place anyone wants to order the spaghetti to begin with, let alone watch an army of people in scrubs dive in. The teacher’s room is the last place to find some peace when everything smells like stale coffee and at least three people will attempt to sell you Girl Scout cookies. Eating alone seems the wisest, most reasonable and most peaceful option.

Unfortunately, it’s not the healthiest. But not in the ways you might think.

When we are alone, it’s easy to get in our heads. It might feel like choosing foods that fuel and nourish us isn’t a priority as what feels good at the moment. We’re much more likely to shovel in a second cheeseburger (that we didn’t want to begin with) if we’re left alone to our own devices.

Why?

Because there are no tangible, visceral reminders that we all belong to each other. Sharing laughter or sorrow with someone over a meal solidifies our humanity and our mortality in a way nothing else can. How we choose to fuel ourselves directly impacts the ways in which we can show up for each other. Physically, our digestive system also gets a much-needed break as we chat and bump elbows with our neighbor between bites. That means fewer stomach upsets and other rather unfortunate side effects.

What research has confirmed, is what so many have known all along. The greatest, individual side effect of choosing to spend meal time with others is that…

YOU LIVE LONGER.

I will transparently admit that while I find Dan Buettner’s Blue Zones research fascinating, I don’t believe it’s the whole story. I, also, do not think eating lentil loaf for the remainder of my days would bring much joy to my life and thus, make longevity unappealing. Dan spent the better part of three years researching centenarians all over the world for his book, Blue Zones Kitchen in order to identify the common threads that unify them. Not surprisingly, more vegetables and fruits, purposeful movement, and limited meat/dairy consumption were a few of the similarities. However, while flavor profiles changed from Greece to Japan, to California with the usage of lemon juice or miso or avocado, one factor alone remained exactly the same:

They all eat together.

With people they love and feel connected to. Every, single day. They didn’t buy a Pelaton, do the Whole30 or invest in a six-month Noom membership. The simple act of sharing a meal is enough to buoy them for the rest of their day, and days to come (long days, in fact, with most living well into their 90’s). Eating communally feeds the soul, decreases anxiety and creates an overall feeling of wellness that nothing else can replicate.

If you ever needed more evidence that our mental and physical health are linked, look no further.

As our nation feels precarious, insecure, and teetering in the wake of huge decisions in a tumultuous election year, there isn’t much I can offer. I’m not a political analyst, activist, or public speaker. What I can offer is this: start eating together. With people you agree with. With people you don’t. Pass the bread and the salad and the grilled chicken in civility. With discourse. With positive intent. Try to understand as you chew. Identify what needs work as you pour. Feast and feed each other in ways you never have before. Bring the chocolate cake.

As much as we’d like to think we’re benefitting from our solo, lunch-hour Bridgerton binges, the research doesn’t lie. We were never meant to eat alone. (Unless it’s the last pint of Ben and Jerry’s Urban Bourbon during a summer storm. Then go home, shut the blinds, and tell no one. A solid 99 years of life would be satisfactory.)

Wouldn’t it be a marvel if we could save ourselves by simply sharing a meal?

Let’s try.