The Taste of Love: Where the Bond Begins
Imagine a two-month-old infant. He understands nothing yet — no words, no concepts, no cause and effect. But when his mother smiles at him, a whole biochemical storm takes place in his body. Oxytocin, pheromones, natural endorphins — all of this is released not metaphorically, but in the most literal sense. The child doesn't just see the smile. He tastes it. He experiences it as intoxication, as the first, still-nameless joy. And he responds in kind — with a blossoming smile of his own.
This is not a metaphor invented to make the text more beautiful. This is biology, and it is where our entire future life begins.
"The baby understands nothing, but he feels that he is loved. And that is very important."
It matters because this is where the basic template is laid down: love is felt through the body. It is not an idea, not a word, not a promise. It is a physical, chemical, tasted experience. And if, at the very start of life, this channel is open and regularly nourished, a person grows up with an inner certainty: I am loved, therefore I can love myself.
But this is not the case for everyone, and not always to a sufficient degree. Over time, filters accumulate on top of this original capacity to feel love: trauma, chronic stress, criticism — from parents, from school, from oneself. A person grows up, develops a mind, language, social roles — but somewhere inside, that same infant remains, still searching for the taste of that first smile. Only now he doesn't always understand what exactly he's looking for.
It's important to understand this not as an accusation against anyone — neither parents nor oneself. It is simply a mechanism. A child does not choose how much love he receives or in what form. He receives what he receives, and builds his entire future system of emotional regulation on that foundation. If the foundation was generous, it's easier for a person to find support within. If it was scarce, the searching mechanism keeps working — but it searches in the wrong place.
In practice, this often shows up like this: a successful, educated, reasonable adult suddenly notices in himself a craving — for food, for sweets, for overeating at certain moments in life — and cannot explain it logically. Logic has nothing to do with it, because the craving does not come from the adult part of the psyche. It comes from that same infant layer, which once learned: pleasure in the mouth equals love.
The practical step for this section is simple but fundamental: begin noticing the moments when you especially want to eat — not out of hunger, but "just because." Don't judge yourself for it, don't scold yourself. Simply notice. This is the first step toward seeing not the food, but what hides behind it.
When Love Is Replaced by Pleasure
If the first bond — the bond of love through taste — was not sufficiently nourished, a person grows up with an inner deficit. And this deficit does not disappear on its own. The psyche finds a way to compensate for the lack — and one of the most accessible, fastest, and most socially approved ways is food.
Food stops being nourishment for the body and becomes a way to obtain the very chemistry of pleasure that a mother's smile once gave unconditionally. The body knows the path: taste — endorphins — temporary relief. It has traveled this path since the first weeks of life. And when an adult lacks acceptance, warmth, the feeling that life loves him, he walks this familiar path again and again.