A "food shock" variation...
My late grandmother, whom lived to the respectable age of 99 years, experienced the Dutch hunger winter. A period of famine during WW2.
For the rest of her lengthy life she could not tolerate any type of food waste. As an example, she'd buy a cabbage and then eat cabbage the entire week, even as it increasingly goes bad.
She had zero interest in food quality or nutritional value, just food in itself. Behavior learned during the famine where you don't have the luxury to discriminate. As an example, she once babysat me and my brother and made an abundance of snacks. Just way too much. Quite soon we were full, but the single word "finish..." and her stare told us all we needed to know. We finished, with stomach cramps. Out of respect.
Also, she had 9 children and survived 7 (genetic blood disease). She survived two husbands. In her extended family and friends, she survived...everybody.
We have a single photo of her childhood, where she stands in front of her house. Which was...made from clay and reed. An astonishing reminder of how even in today's developed nations, wealth for common people is brand new. Despite plenty of opportunities in her lifetime, she rejected material wealth outside some basics. Zero material desires.
Despite all this, not once in her life have I seen her sad or complain or moan. If us grandchildren did something bad or stupid, she didn't give a shit. You're still alive, in health...so what's the problem? Carry on.
She didn't eat very healthy, smoke a pack a day and didn't exercise. And still she made a daily trip on her bicycle to get her own groceries. Or make two trips in a row if needed. Up to the age of 98.
The collapse was short and sudden. After a hospital stay she was returned home to die. As she got carried out of the ambulance she saw my dad's work: her front-garden completely replanted with hundreds of blooming flowers, a sight to behold.
"That looks nice"
She was never very generous with compliments. And those were her last words. I'd call her Iron Lady, but it's an insult really. Iron is too soft to describe her.
She lives on as my compass for life. When I worry, see darkness in the world, contemplate about world events and threats, I think of her.
I'm alive, and I'm eating. I'm fine. Her scars are my lesson, and it's liberating.
She lived in an occupied country, ate grass and flowers, whilst nearly freezing to death. She encountered enough personal loss to fit several lifetimes. And still lived a full life and remained positive throughout.
So if at one point I have to cancel my Netflix, yeah...I think I'm going to be fine.