The food people eat is really telling about what kind of lives they live. Like, if someone is eating steak and lobster every night, they're probably living a pretty good life. For some, however, food (or lack thereof) represents a more harsh reality. It's not uncommon to be down on your luck with only few bucks to your name and a struggle meal is all you can afford to eat. Sometimes, life throws you in situations that make eating really difficult because there's too much on your mind.
These Redditors know all too well what these experiences are like. Read on to find out what their most depressing meals were.
Content has been edited for clarity.
The Struggle Was Real
“I was going through a time of real financial hardship a few years ago. I remember looking in the cupboards/fridge for something to take to work for lunch. There was a packet of sliced British corned beef. There was no bread in the house but I thought that I had a couple of pounds left in my bank and planned to buy a cheap loaf of bread to eat it with.
Well, on going to Aldi, it turned out that I didn’t actually have any money left in the bank. So after the humiliation of having to leave the checkout empty handed, I returned to work to eat my solitary packet of luncheon meat. Unfortunately, when I went to retrieve it from my backpack, it had all slid out of the packet and broken up all over my bag. Most of it was unsalvageable, but a sizeable amount had smushed onto the cover of the George R. R. Martin book I was reading at the time. I duly scraped it off with a knife and stuffed it into my mouth then went back to work.
And that’s the story of my most depressing meal.”
Old Habits Die Hard
“During a short time, my family was homeless and my mother took us in the middle of the night to some distant city via bus. My siblings and I would pretty much hang out at this McDonald’s up the road from the shelter we lived in. We would watch people eat and take what was left over, digging through the trash cans when employees were too busy.
My little sister still had the habit after we moved back in with my dad. She would randomly appear with a McDonald’s cup or half a burger before we even ordered. I tend to leave my cups on the top of the trash cans when I leave any fast food place, and I’m always looking to see if someone needs something.
If someone had paid us more than a moment of attention they would have realized we needed far more help than we were receiving.”
The Infamous Can Of Peas
“I was living in a slum of an apartment, in Boston, when I was 18. I had lost my job and my roommates all moved out on short notice, so I had no money. The fridge and pantry were empty, except for a can of peas that were there when we moved in years earlier. It was like our joke, keeping the peas around. I had no pots, pans, or a microwave, so I used a steak knife to cut open the can of peas, drained them and just poured the cold peas into my mouth, while sitting on the floor of an empty ghetto apartment, in silence.
It was sad.
It’s amazing how, even though I knew it was pretty depressing, I endured it. I’ve had lots of ups (and mostly downs) in the 18 years since that night of eating peas in sad solitude, but I’m doing great now. Good career, no more paycheck to paycheck, and I have food in the fridge.”
The Worst Way To Start The Day
“I didn’t realize it at the time, but my dad was emotionally abusive about my weight growing up. He did a lot of stuff, but one is that he used to wake me up at 7 am every day and inspect my bedroom looking for hidden food while I stood at attention against the wall.
One afternoon in the 3rd grade, I hid an unwrapped cake thing under my bed and planned to eat it around 5 am the next day before he got up. But he got up early and I heard him coming, so I had to rush eat it in about five seconds. While he searched, I pretended everything was fine. But in reality, I kept throwing it up in my mouth and re-swallowing it.
That was a sad breakfast.”
Dead Man’s (Ice) Chest
“My wife’s grandpa died. My father-in-law told us to come up to his house and get WHATEVER we wanted, and whatever we didn’t take, he was going to burn. He kinda hated his dad because he had been abusive. Being that we were young and couldn’t afford a lot, we went with my dad and took a trailer. My father-in-law was rifling through books and magazines looking for money his mom had squirreled away. We found a deep freeze/ice chest, basically brand new. A nice six-footer that you could just stack up bodies in. I claimed it. He said ‘Sure, but go through everything and make sure my mom didn’t stash money in it.’
It’s funny we actually found $1,700 in a box of popsicles. Dude knew his mom. We handed that over. Took the freezer. We plugged it in and made plans to get large trash bags to clean it out with.
Then one day, the inevitable happened. I was home, alone, broke, and there wasn’t anything very appealing in our fridge. I looked over at the freezer of food that belonged to a dead man. He had three boxes of pre-formed hash brown patties. I fried those babies up with some eggs. They tasted a bit stale. I was pretty disgusted with myself afterward. It just weirded me out because it was someone else’s food, it sat there for God knows how long before I came along, and the power could have fluctuated letting it thaw and refreeze.
I really hate the smell of stale or freezer burnt food now. Gives me flashbacks. At the time, it seemed like I would be able to live with it. Now it haunts me as to how depraved I can get when hungry.”
The Honeymoon Phase Was Over
“I am a US citizen and was vacationing with my (at the time) fiancée. We were in her home country, Colombia. We were in her home packing to go to some next location. She said I didn’t pack the suitcase correctly and she flipped out a bit and told me to do it over again. I thought, ‘eh okay fine, she has a hot temper.’
I began packing the suitcase for my second attempt all while she was lording over me in supervision. She then accused me and asked if I was trying to rip her clothes or destroy her things because of the way I was packing. I told her ‘No, I’m not trying to destroy anything, I am just not very good at packing bags.’
Then for the third attempt at packing, she said she would do it on her own. About midway through her furious packing fiasco, she suddenly stopped everything and said I had to leave her home and stay somewhere else, then get myself to the airport in two days.
I calmly stood there in her home, explained that I have no Colombian pesos, almost no Spanish speaking ability, and worst of all, was clearly an American. I explained I would leave her house and find my way to an airport. If the locals took advantage of me or whatever happened to me, both families would know what happened. She said she did not care for my safety any longer.
I think something clicked in her mind when I told her both families will know what happened because she quickly suggested that she would tow me around and not kick me out. But the damage was done. She had already expressed she didn’t care for my safety and that she meant it.
She took me to a hotel and asked me if I wanted food. I stayed dead silent for a moment, then only gave a simple ‘yes’ answer to anything she asked me just to keep the peace, to not upset her, to not be kicked at some side street in a third world country.
So there I was, sitting in a hotel chair, with a plate of food on my legs. I was bent over, with my face about six inches from my food, shoveling bite after bite and not looking at anything at all. I was trying to process that this woman no longer cared for me, all while wondering what the next 48 hours will bring me and hoping I could get to the USA safely.”
They’ll Never Forget Those Lonely, Hungry Nights
“When I was 19, after my ex left me, broken and homeless, I used every penny I had left and put down a rent deposit on a run down, spider infested, cold and dirty one-room apartment. I had no furniture and was sleeping on the dusty, wooden floor on a pile of towels in below freezing temperatures, while wearing layers upon layers of clothes, gloves and a woolly hat just to keep warm (more difficult than you’d think as this was in early January in North Scotland). At that time, I was working at a fast food restaurant and received one small, but free meal on my half hour break at 2:00 am (I worked 10pm – 7am six days a week).
For the first three weeks I lived in this flat, that free burger was the only cooked meal I would have. On my days off, I’d tend to buy anything I could afford from the local store when they reduced items to pennies at the end of the day prior to closing (usually past its sell by date and disgusting). It was usually things such as a squished bar of chocolate or mushy tomatoes.
My last day off work right before I would finally be paid my crappy month’s wage was the worst. I woke up at 9 pm as usual and just laid in the dark on the floor. All I could think of was how hungry and helpless I was. At around 2 am, when I would usually get food at my work, the hunger was becoming unbearable and no amount of cold water from the tap was diminishing it. I raided through all my jackets and bags still in cardboard boxes around the apartment in the hopes of finding something, anything, that could help. And that is where I found my most depressing meal: a packet of curry sauce from the restaurant. I cried while squeezing the 25ml condiment into my mouth and crawled back onto the towels to lay there until I could go back to work 19 hours later.
I am now 22 and have a house with the love of my life, who I met around the same time I moved into that apartment. Every night, I come home from a 9 to 5 office job, to a warm home and a soft bed and I get to cook lovely homely meals for us both. Every day, I remember the conditions I survived through and made the best of. Because of that experience and others I had living there, I am always appreciative of the life I have now and the work it took to get here.”
He Learned From Their Mistakes
“I was 17 and had just gotten out of the hospital after being there for three months for major surgery (ICU, I almost died).
My mom and dad had five marriages between them, so we got shuffled back and forth a lot (yes, there lives were more important than their kids).
My mom sent me to stay at my dad’s. However, my stepmother hated me and refused to let me stay with them. So, my dad put me in one of his ghetto apartments that he owned.
My 18th Birthday rolls around and I receive no gifts (not that I wanted any), no cards, no calls from my three siblings or my mother or father. Heck, my dad didn’t even come by to say ‘happy birthday’ and I was only 100 yards from his house. I will never forget my lunch that day: Top Ramen, sitting alone in a ratty apartment on a pretty big birthday for a kid. I never heard from anyone in my family in the following days, weeks, or months.
There is a bright side: I met my girlfriend a week earlier and she made me a wonderful meal of Pork Chops, Mashed Potatoes, Gravy, Peas, and a chocolate birthday cake from scratch. She also bought a present and a card.
Needless to say, she was a keeper and we’ve been married 30 years. My parents try to give me advice or criticize her and I’ve told them many times, ‘She has done more for me and cared for me more than you ever did so shut up. And by the way, I don’t need your advice; I learned from your mistakes and will do everything exactly opposite of the way you did it, so I can have a successful marriage and family.’
By the way, I have two kids, 28 and 24, and have never failed to see them on their birthdays.”
Expired Food Sandwich
“A sandwich…of cold slices of carrot and gobs of sour cream on wonder bread.
I was very young, in my first apartment. I missed weeks of work from an injury outside of work and after rent, I had nearly no money for food. So, I bought something like $30 worth of food to last me three weeks.
I decided I would not eat on weekends in order to ration out my food.
After the first week, I was already through anything worth eating, including condiments. I wasn’t able to not eat on the weekend.
After about day 10 or 11, I had no food at all.
I got desperate and started searching all my stuff for coins and wound up finding about $8 worth. I bought as much as I could with that, which included bologna, free (expired) carrots, wonder bread, 25¢ past due sour cream(that had separated into a firm cream and water), bananas, rice, and dried bulk bin red lentils.
The carrots and sour cream were already going bad and I didn’t want to waste them, so I made the most disgusting sandwich I’ve ever had. But I was grateful for having food!! I had to have that food then, not later. That food couldn’t wait. It had gone bad and was getting worse..and then I had it again. I was really hungry.
I learned my lessons and managed to really cut back on food intake and even skipped eating all meals but dinner and skipped eating one day a week. But I gotta say…the rest of my ‘food’ for the next ten days wasn’t any better.
But I made it, partly thanks to that depressingly awful sandwich, which is also one of the best learning experiences in my life.”
Her Last Option
“Here is why I hate carrots now: so I was young and dumb and got in trouble for drinking and driving. I had court ordered AA meetings, and I was forced by the court to quit my great paying restaurant manager job because the restaurant. I was also forced to go to a $30,000 rehab. I guess I had a choice, but my other option was jail, and as a 19-year-old tiny female, that did not seem like an option.
So, I went broke really freaking fast. I hadn’t eaten in DAYS, and all I had in my fridge was one carrot. So I grabbed my carrot and went to that stupid AA meeting where one guy noticed said carrot. For the next year, three meetings a week, he asked my where my carrots were and called me rabbit. Forget that guy and forget the money hungry judicial system.
It didn’t do a darn bit of good. I’m 33 now and a head chef and manager of a private club.”