I Believe that Change is Possible.
I have had a hard time
writing lately. I think it’s because I
have had so many thoughts going through my mind, and I haven’t been able to
organize them into a coherent post on anything. I’ve started and stopped several times, but
end up walking away knowing that I have a lot to say, and frustrated by the
block.
I’m hoping to break through
that today. So hang on….it's a personal story, and one I have wrestled with sharing, so read on at your own risk. :)
Let me preface this by
saying that I have a GREAT life. I have
a wonderful husband, great kids, and friends I can count on. I laugh a lot, I have lots of love in my
life, and a warm safe home to live in.
I grew up in a happy home with parents who loved me. There was no abuse. My parents are STILL married. There wasn’t lots of crime where I grew
up. I have had, and continue to have….a
GREAT LIFE.
But somewhere in this great
life, I began to dislike myself so profoundly that I developed some pretty
unhealthy ideas about what I had to be to be happy. I somehow came to the belief that I had to be perfect in all I did, and if I
couldn’t achieve that….I failed. And
when I inevitably failed, I began to be disappointed in myself, and when I
became disappointed in myself, I began to hate those things about me that held
me back, and when I began to hate those things that held me back, I began to
try to find the reason I wasn’t perfect, and what I came up with was….I was
fat.
Easy enough. There is a simple cure for being fat. Don’t eat.
Exercise. Hold on to control and
you can do this. Will power. And in high school….I did. I was thin.
I was successful, and I was TERRIFIED that people would find out how
unhappy I was.
In college as a theatre
major I worried about what I looked like on stage. At this time, my weight dropped to its
lowest point. I existed on cigarettes,
alcohol, and diet coke. I got leads in
plays. I had boys interested in
me. I was, on the surface,
successful. But once again…TERRIFIED
that people would learn the truth about me.
This continued on through
college, though grad school, and through my first marriage. I would struggle with a few pounds here and
there, and never dropped dangerously low in weight, but I was always either
eating or not eating to deal with my fear of failing. And when my marriage was falling apart, I
ate. I sought comfort IN food this
time, and when my then husband told me he wasn’t attracted to me because I had
put on a few pounds….I died inside. I
let my “fatness” get out of control…and for that I had lost my marriage. Now…I know that there was a LOT more going on at the time, but THIS is
what I grabbed on to. Failed
marriage….weight gain…..I suck…..I’m undeserving, and ugly, and un-loveable,
and fat.
Time moved on, and things
regulated again. I got married again,
and this time…to the RIGHT person. I
had kids. I was successful. Life was good. And then Andy got sick. I held my child in my arms KNOWING something
was wrong, and no one could find it…. I
watched him struggle, and with that felt completely helpless… That time was out of control. I turned to food. I ate for comfort to the point of making
myself sick, I ate in the middle of the night at the hospital because I
couldn’t sleep, and then to alleviate the feared gaining of weight, I eventually
found a way to get rid of it by vomiting.
Hmmm…this was new. And
cathartic. And POWERFUL. It was also something I was terribly ashamed
of…and something that became a dirty secret for me. And sadly, at this time, the biggest
frustration was that even with all of this was that I was gaining weight at a steady pace, not that I was endangering my health.
I was 34, and for the first
time I started to wonder if my thinking was out of whack when it came to my
self image and food. I sought out help,
and they suggested I go to a hospital.
WHAT? I didn’t have THAT kind of
problem. I didn’t have an eating
disorder? I just ate or didn’t eat
because of what was going on in my life or to seek comfort…. I didn’t starve myself until my hair fell
out. I didn’t gorge myself on thousands
of calories at a time…. I’m not an
alcoholic, I don’t do drugs, I didn’t NEED to go to that hospital. But I did go….
I went to that
hospital. Every day. For a month. And a few years later, I repeated this
process again. And guess what I found
out. That I am what an eating disorder looks like to a LOT of people. Eating disorders aren’t always the very
visably sick. They root in your thinking
and emotion, and sometimes the unseen is just as unhealthy. Healthy is truly in the eye of the
beholder.
Why am I writing this
now? Unveiling my own skeleton in the
closet? I am not looking for sympathy,
or hoping that people will send me accolades or support. I am doing GREAT. I am writing this because I have a daughter
who is already talking weight, calories, and exercise. She already feels the pressure at 10 years
old to be perfect, and in my eyes she already is. If we as a society don’t
begin to embrace each other and our differences, both in mind, body, and spirit,
we are going to create and entire generation that fights the battle I have
fought, and have seen so MANY young girls fight…..and even lose. It’s sad.
It breaks my heart, and I can tell you….it was a PAINFUL journey I would
never wish upon another.
This world has proven itself to be painful enough a place to live sometimes, so let's try to find a way to live happy. There's just not time for the pain we bring to ourselves because of expectations that are just not realistic.
So, with that, I have
decided it’s time to speak out, and share what I know. It’s time we begin to lift one another up
instead of seeking out imperfections, and help each other AS HUMAN BEINGS to
embrace what makes us unique and beautiful, instead of seeking out this elusive
perfection that is never attainable. So
I am going to do this. I am going to
consciously look for the beauty in all that I meet, and do my best to treat
everyone with kindness. No
judgement. No expectations. No need for perfections.
I think about what a great
world it will be for my children (and yours) if I can get more people on board. And maybe understanding the intensity of the
sickness can help us find the cure.
Share it. Do it. CHANGE IT! Let's go!
Tina,
ReplyDeleteThank you for your honesty. Speaking out about it could reach so many more people than you know!
I have gone through similar decisions in my life but always denied it in therapy situations. In college, before I was pregnant (!) I lived on Diet Coke. I figured not eating was something I could control when I was struggling with feeling smart enough, nice enough, and worthy of a healthy relationship. I, to this day, hate myself when I add a pound.
I am a stress eater and in the last two months have put on 5 pounds because I consistently allow work and life to intervene with my workout schedule. The wedding was a great motivation, but it's done and school is in full swing. I keep saying, "When my masters is done...when my class of kiddos is easier to plan for...when we have a house...etc" Excuse after excuse. So, then I get down on myself for wanting to have a cookie or two. Often, I do the typical "Ah, what the heck...if I am having one, may as well make it three or four." I know it's within my power to put it down and stop.
I compare myself constantly to my colleagues and friends. I worry that my kiddos will think I am the fat teacher or ugly teacher. How ridiculous is that?!? I struggle daily to find something I find attractive about myself.
I hate that I have done this to myself and let bad relationships perpetuate it. Being with Steve now, as you say "the right guy", I hate that he has to try and rectify it.
You are a brave and amazing woman. Your daughter is lucky to have you. Keep your chin up and congratulations on your steps to healing!