Comfort Food for Thought

I was listening to a podcast and the subject of autism came up. One of the guests mentioned her sister, who had autism, would watch scenes from movies over and over again. At first, the family found this extremely odd, but more understandable after diagnosis. Her sister would watch these clips and find comfort in the monotony. The predictability.

I’m not autistic, but I could understand this. How many times have I found succor in the familiar? Just the other day, I found an old comic book that I had read (and re-read) countless times as a kid and even now, decades later, remember the story line and the jokes. It made me feel warm inside. Like I recognized myself within this piece of my past. 

My brother is a Trekky. He watches old episodes and reads the novels so often even those of us who aren’t remotely interested in the Enterprise can recognize the plot at a glance. It’s like he’s spending time with old friends.

Nor is this uncommon. Comfort foods are named such because they take us to a safe place where others took care of us and fed us. We wear old t-shirts not just because they are soft with age, but because they remind us of a particular time or event we remember fondly.  

I’ve been thinking a lot of about this idea of comfort and the familiar as it has been a rather crazy month. Not in a bad way. Just lots of changes and challenging myself and my habitual thinking. I’ve been taking steps and making plans outside my comfort zone. It has been good for me. But this long weekend, I’ve taken a step to the right of the stream that has been carrying me forward. A slight pause to touch base. Spend some time on the couch with my family, watching TV. Take a bath and read a book until the water gets cold like I did when I was ten. Play songs from the 90s and remember high school. To feel safe and enveloped in a blanket of where I have been.