I remember driving home from Disneyland as a child, sleeping on the backseat, probably six or so? I was facing the back of the seat and turned to glance over my shoulder and decided my butt was really big.
I remember being in fifth grade and stepping a scale with a friend of mine at a Friday night sleepover, together deciding we were soooo fat when the numbers climbed higher than we thought they should. Of course, now I know what I saw as "fat" was just early puberty, the onset of breasts and hips and adulthood. But that doesn't fix what these thoughts did to my brain.
I have always had a completely skewed perspective of my own body and health. No matter what size I was, I was fat. At 15 years old I recall being 145 pounds and thinking I was grotesque. Same thing at 18 years, at 165.
That was the first time I did Weight Watchers, just before leaving for college. I lost over 30 pounds without ever exercising and dropped the program the second I stepped foot onto campus. I knew I was smaller, but I still didn't see myself as I really was, as 133 pounds and objectively small, totally normal in a sea of other young women.
I still felt huge.
And I quickly gained the weight again. I hardly noticed, until I was up to 185 pounds within three years.
I was sad throughout a lot of college. I was happy too, don't get me wrong, I had great friends and great experiences and made some wonderful memories. But I was deeply, deeply sad. And I soothed that sadness with food. I ate, and I drank, and I ate, and I went to class, and I stayed in bed all day, and I went to parties, and I turned down invitations because I couldn't face myself in the mirror, and I studied abroad, and I hid in my room, and I was happy, and I cried a lot. And I ate.
I graduated within three years, an impressive feat I guess, thought it didn't really feel impressive at the time. I just wanted to be done with college. I didn't really enjoy it. In retrospect, it's sad that I rushed through it the way I did due to my depression, and medicated it the way I did with food and other substances. But you know, you can't change the past.
After college, I struggled more and more with my weight and self image. My size went up and down. My depression and self-loathing ran rampant. I had a boyfriend who was very bad for me, and I got bigger. I broke up with that boyfriend, I moved to LA, and I continued to struggle and struggle.
The highest number I ever saw on the scale was 199.5. I never saw anything over 200, but I bet you I got there.
And now here I am, trying to fix myself. Finally trying to solve the root problems of why I eat, instead of just forcing myself to starve. I've finally accepted wholeheartedly the one thing that eluded me for so long, tripped me up, kept me from truly succeeding---it will probably always be like this. I will probably always have to fight my own demons.
But that's no reason not to try.
I still felt huge.
And I quickly gained the weight again. I hardly noticed, until I was up to 185 pounds within three years.
I was sad throughout a lot of college. I was happy too, don't get me wrong, I had great friends and great experiences and made some wonderful memories. But I was deeply, deeply sad. And I soothed that sadness with food. I ate, and I drank, and I ate, and I went to class, and I stayed in bed all day, and I went to parties, and I turned down invitations because I couldn't face myself in the mirror, and I studied abroad, and I hid in my room, and I was happy, and I cried a lot. And I ate.
I graduated within three years, an impressive feat I guess, thought it didn't really feel impressive at the time. I just wanted to be done with college. I didn't really enjoy it. In retrospect, it's sad that I rushed through it the way I did due to my depression, and medicated it the way I did with food and other substances. But you know, you can't change the past.
After college, I struggled more and more with my weight and self image. My size went up and down. My depression and self-loathing ran rampant. I had a boyfriend who was very bad for me, and I got bigger. I broke up with that boyfriend, I moved to LA, and I continued to struggle and struggle.
The highest number I ever saw on the scale was 199.5. I never saw anything over 200, but I bet you I got there.
And now here I am, trying to fix myself. Finally trying to solve the root problems of why I eat, instead of just forcing myself to starve. I've finally accepted wholeheartedly the one thing that eluded me for so long, tripped me up, kept me from truly succeeding---it will probably always be like this. I will probably always have to fight my own demons.
But that's no reason not to try.
Are you working through this on your own or with a therapist? I know you've been going, I'm just curious because I feel like I am in a similar place and am thinking about the next step to working through my realizations.
ReplyDeleteBoth, really. I talk about some of this with my therapist, and a lot of these thoughts originated with her, but I've been doing a lot of self reflection too.
DeleteIf you think you're kind of stuck on your own, it can be good to have someone to bounce your ideas off of, you know? And someone else can always look at things in a way you never could.