Sharing the Pain
Jun. 23rd, 2004 10:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bloodsong1I want to start this by saying, Janny, this is not against you in any way. I understand your disgust and frustration with women who cite culture for why they abuse themselves. I share the disgust and frustration, but on a much more personal level. This is my story.
When I was about 12, my mother found out her cholesterol was over 300 points, her blood pressure was near stroke level and she was overweight. Overnight, my family eating habits changed. Mom announced she wasn't going to waste time and effort cooking two meals, so everyone was going on her diet. Now, anyone with a grain of sense would think, "Why is she putting growing children on a low-fat, low cholesterol diet? Especially when her daughter is already undersized?" But no one questioned Mom. We all went on her new regimen. During this time period, I watched my mother obsess about her weight. There was one memorable event involving my father. We were in their room, looking through Mom's drawers for something. We found some pretty underwear and I casually asked why she never wore it (I was doing laundry). "She got too fat." My father said in a disgusted voice. *twitch*
Over the next few years, I developed a serious food phobia. Gaining weight became equated with unattractiveness and health problems. My appetite, never much to begin with, shrank even more. Once my mom noticed, she decided to play doctor and looked up my symptoms in a reference book. She then declared I was hypoglycemic and had low blood pressure. The low bp has since been confirmed, the former has not. The solution? "Take crackers with you everywhere." Now why would I want to carry crackers around when I don't want to gain weight? To keep from passing out. Never happened. The one time I came close to fainting, it was at home and my mother thought I was faking it. I had to trip over a cord while she was dragging me to the couch before she believed something was really wrong.
If I didn't eat, I was scolded. If I did eat, it didn't matter. My self esteem became linked to food as well. If I got upset about anything, I would lose my appetite. If I THOUGHT I ate too much, I would get cramps. This became a vicious cycle that carried into my first marriage. My ex was great at ignoring me, which hurt my feelings, which killed my appetite while at the same time drove me to make sure he was well-fed so maybe he would notice me. Sick, ni? This horrible mentality is why I was 85 lbs or less when I got pregnant.
There were money issues linked to this as well, especially during my first marriage. I often went hungry because we couldn't afford a lot of food, so I made sure the ex had enough.
Wolf and I have had long, painful talks about this. It is because of him I found the courage to look at my situation and admit I have an eating disorder. I now know why, how and when. I had to learn to give myself PERMISSION to be hungry and to then feed myself. I'm still working on ignoring the cramps and taking a few more bites. I can give in to cravings and have something decadent. It won't hurt me. It will help me look and feel better.
It took me 14 years to get here. Only the last three have been the most productive. I'm hovering around 100 pounds. I have a ways to go yet, but the rewards will be great when I do.
When I was about 12, my mother found out her cholesterol was over 300 points, her blood pressure was near stroke level and she was overweight. Overnight, my family eating habits changed. Mom announced she wasn't going to waste time and effort cooking two meals, so everyone was going on her diet. Now, anyone with a grain of sense would think, "Why is she putting growing children on a low-fat, low cholesterol diet? Especially when her daughter is already undersized?" But no one questioned Mom. We all went on her new regimen. During this time period, I watched my mother obsess about her weight. There was one memorable event involving my father. We were in their room, looking through Mom's drawers for something. We found some pretty underwear and I casually asked why she never wore it (I was doing laundry). "She got too fat." My father said in a disgusted voice. *twitch*
Over the next few years, I developed a serious food phobia. Gaining weight became equated with unattractiveness and health problems. My appetite, never much to begin with, shrank even more. Once my mom noticed, she decided to play doctor and looked up my symptoms in a reference book. She then declared I was hypoglycemic and had low blood pressure. The low bp has since been confirmed, the former has not. The solution? "Take crackers with you everywhere." Now why would I want to carry crackers around when I don't want to gain weight? To keep from passing out. Never happened. The one time I came close to fainting, it was at home and my mother thought I was faking it. I had to trip over a cord while she was dragging me to the couch before she believed something was really wrong.
If I didn't eat, I was scolded. If I did eat, it didn't matter. My self esteem became linked to food as well. If I got upset about anything, I would lose my appetite. If I THOUGHT I ate too much, I would get cramps. This became a vicious cycle that carried into my first marriage. My ex was great at ignoring me, which hurt my feelings, which killed my appetite while at the same time drove me to make sure he was well-fed so maybe he would notice me. Sick, ni? This horrible mentality is why I was 85 lbs or less when I got pregnant.
There were money issues linked to this as well, especially during my first marriage. I often went hungry because we couldn't afford a lot of food, so I made sure the ex had enough.
Wolf and I have had long, painful talks about this. It is because of him I found the courage to look at my situation and admit I have an eating disorder. I now know why, how and when. I had to learn to give myself PERMISSION to be hungry and to then feed myself. I'm still working on ignoring the cramps and taking a few more bites. I can give in to cravings and have something decadent. It won't hurt me. It will help me look and feel better.
It took me 14 years to get here. Only the last three have been the most productive. I'm hovering around 100 pounds. I have a ways to go yet, but the rewards will be great when I do.
