Bridget Siljander is no longer experiencing food scarcity, but she's still haunted by the years when she didn't have enough to eat.
"I have trauma around this because I know what it's like to be hungry all the time," said Siljander, of Minneapolis. "It left a lasting impact. I still feel like the worst-case scenario could happen again."
Siljander, who worked low-wage jobs when she was single and as a young mother, had to prioritize paying rent over grocery bills. Even when she was able to get food shelf donations and access to SNAP, the federal food stamp program, she filled up on cheap, accessible food like popcorn and potatoes.
When COVID-19 hit, she was once again gripped by old fears. Though she could afford to buy food, she worried that supply-chain bottlenecks would create shortages.
"When everything was so chaotic, it put me back into survival mode," she said. "I hoarded food and felt like I needed to load up. I would binge-eat because I might not have the chance to get enough."
Ten months into the employment and economic plunge created by the pandemic, the need for food is still surging. There are more Minnesota families in line at the state's 350 food pantries now than during the 2008 recession.
According to Feeding America, the nation's largest anti-hunger organization, one in six Americans now needs help to get enough to eat. As meal programs at schools and day care programs have become unreliable, the number of hungry children has jumped dramatically; food insecurity in households with kids has more than tripled since the virus arrived.
Some mental health providers caution that the food shortages could set the stage for a spike in dangerous behaviors related to eating. There's also concern that an unhealthy preoccupation with food will strike a wider and more diverse group.