The last month I have been posting pictures and talking about my weight loss. As I look back on my posts, I realize that these posts may come across as maybe something other than what was intended. Pictures of me in long lost jeans, a new pair of "thin" pants, and pants held up with a belt could make it appear that I am obsessed with my weight and my weight loss. I want to say here and now that I am not obsessed, at least not anymore. In a way, I am trying to share my own story on my blog, but I see that I have jumped to the present with out sharing my story of my past. I realize this is a bit long, but if your interested, it does kind of strip me down to bare bones. I suppose this is a safe place to do that.
First, let me say that until recently, I have HATED my body my entire life. Ever since I became aware of my body as a control device, I have abused it with food, starvation, obsession, excessive exercise, and general loathing. No matter how skinny or how fat I have been, I have absolutely hated my body. It actually makes me sad now to write this, but it is the truth nonetheless.
When I was five years old, I feel madly in love with the art of ballet. It was my everything, and consumed me. All I could ever think about was being a ballet dancer, and truth be told, I was very good. Then puberty hit. Suddenly my body was doing things that I didn't want to happen. Ballet is not for the curvy girl (yes at 5'6'' and 117 lbs I was considered curvy). I learned early how I could easily loose weight by just not eating. This would usually lead to a binge eventually. During my teenage years, my hate of my body grew even more. Not only was I clinging to a dream of being a thin, emaciated ballet dancer, but I was also trying to be an attractive teenager which meant being as thin as possible in my mind. I would throw my lunch in the garbage at school after only having an apple for breakfast. Then I would come home and eat "binge" style foods, and not eat dinner. The constant self punishment going on inside me was torment. I would have to say it was my own personal hell. The cycle was as follows: look in the mirror and find every little inch of excess skin I could, point out all my flaws, get on the scale and determine how much weight I could loose in the next 3 days, start the starvation process, fixate on an exercise routine, loose the weight and for a moment feel like a hero, but feeling empty I would binge to fill in the hole that the hate of myself had dug. Repeat, repeat, repeat.....
I finally decided to walk away from ballet when in preparing for a performance my instructor ordered my costume to be made a size smaller than I was in order to lose more weight. She instructed me to be 110 lbs for the performance. I was 14 years old, and nearly 5'7". 110 lbs was actually considered unhealthy for someone my height, not to mention my level of muscle development and activity, but I was in a corner. I worked out five, yes five times a day doing Jane Fonda videos, going to normal dance classes, running, endless crunches, etc..., I essentially stopped eating as well. I did manage to get into that costume, but fell over at the end of my performance because I was dizzy and weak. This resulted in getting yelled at by my instructor. I couldn't win! I couldn't be thin enough, and in order to get that thin I wouldn't be able to dance. I had had it, and I walked away. Although I finally decided to put my health first by walking away from the abuse I was enduring, the damage had already been done to my soul. I don't think I could possibly put into words the amount of pain I was in, the absolute and total soul starving anguish that I felt inside myself. Unless you have felt such pain, I don't know that you would be able to truly understand it, nor would you want to if you were so lucky to have not experienced it.
The starvation, binging and constant dieting continued on throughout high school and into my adult life. It was a never ending cycle of self abuse and hate, but it was a great control measure which slowly morphed into a comfortable friend. Whenever things got hard, lonely, or painful, I knew there was a nice big bowl of ice cream waiting for me at home, like a good friend. I am almost certain now that this cycle damaged my body and led to my Thyroid problem (with a genetic inclination as well).
About 10 years ago, I started to just give up on myself. Gave up on caring about myself, about who I was and what I wanted. This was not just in the care of my body, but in every way that makes me me. Then I guess I hit rock bottom as they say. I just hit that place where I couldn't go further. The hate had just taken its toll, and I became apathetic. Two years ago (roughly), an event occurred that changed my life entirely. To look at me, you would not see this change, as it is inside of me. I would love to tell you this climatic event occurred and suddenly, overnight I saw the folly of my ways, followed by immediate joyfulness and a success story. That would make for a good Hollywood movie, but as anyone who has climbed a mountain knows it doesn't happen overnight. It takes years of training and then one can take the step up, followed by coming back down. Only then can they say they have climbed the mountain.
The HARDEST thing involved in changing is taking that first, frightening step, and actually wanting to change. Once one makes that step, the tools to change are there. As Glenda says, "you've always had the power my dear, you've had it all along." I knew I didn't want what I had become anymore, I couldn't, I had too much hope inside me to just give up. I chose to change when I couldn't see anything in front of me anymore but fear and sadness. I chose to tap into my power. But I had so many battle scars inside, each centered around a sense of self loathing, that everyday was/is a battle. The self loathing and fear is the Devil inside. I guess the best way one can describe it is that ever so cliche butterfly in a cocoon. The part of the process that I was in was not the cocooning stage, nor the breaking free stage, but the battle and struggle just to begin the breaking out stage. That battle is life or death. That was where I was and it was hard, still is hard sometimes. No, I don't feel I have broken free yet, but do feel I have a tear started.
Losing weight, running for a goal, taking care of myself, and buying new clothes, is all about regaining myself and who I really am, not about vanity or obsession over my weight. I can honestly say I have no idea how much I weigh. I have not weighed myself in over a year. I have done so on purpose because for me a scale has so much baggage. I have let it determine my worth as a person, as a girl, and as a woman. Therefore, unless I am in a doctor's office, you will never see me on a scale again. Now, rather than beat myself up for eating an extra cookie, I go for a walk, a hike, enjoy eating foods that actually nourish me and not for comfort or self abuse. Food, and the desire for food, now comes from a completely different place. It is the strangest thing to actually want to eat vegetables.
One big thing I have learned through this lifelong battle is that making peace with myself is the only way I could begin to learn to be happy. Loving myself enough to forgive myself and others that have hurt me is the only way to actualize the person I really want to be. A hard and painful process for sure, but for me, the only way. I have, for many years, fantasized about the woman I wanted to be. No, my fantasy is not about money, status, power, the right career, a new car, the right size jeans, the white picket fence with 2.3 kids, 1.2 dogs, and 3.7 cats. It has none of those elements because those elements are no longer important to me, nor do they equate to that sense of peace within myself that I seek. My fantasy is about me being completely comfortable inside my skin, in my body, and loving my life completely. It is about being happy just by being myself, and glowing....no radiating that internal joy out to everyone around me. That is my hope for myself, my fantasy, and if it takes the rest of my life, I will get there having climbed my mountain and lived to share my story.
Parents - please watch your children, watch your daughters. See if any of my story seems a little too familiar. Step in and help them now if you have observed any of these behaviors.
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