I told my short life story today and the person I was talking to was shocked. How could a seemingly well-adjusted normal person have such a screwed up past? How could I not have grown up with two loving parents in an idyllic suburban neighborhood?
Feeling a little bad for them, I joked, "I turned out all right so it's all good." So we could end the conversation on a more positive note.
That's not really true though. It's been a long hard road to "normal". I've suffered every kind of abuse, mainly from the hands of my father. He is no longer in my life. I was in therapy for a long time to help me learn how to cope. I became a person with serious anger and trust issues anyway.
Eating my feelings didn't really start right then. I've always been a moth to the flame of sugar. Parental restriction helped through my childhood, even though I snuck sweets at every opportunity. When I got a job as a teenager I refused to spend my money on junk food and even though I could eat all the crap I wanted for my break it was only one meal a day and I was young so I stayed trim.
The trouble appeared when I got my first desk job. Snack cakes provided instant relief and pleasure. I would go through a box a day. I would visit the vending machine for king size candy bars, twice a day sometimes. Business lunches and group potlucks happened all the time. It was inescapable that I would gain weight. No amount of exercise could keep up so I gave up the activities I loved doing and started hiding. I started to hide from my family, not wanting the people I wanted to think I was awesome to see what I was turning into. Avoiding activities that I couldn't afford or find time for, but always able to afford junk food.
Depression set in when the plan I had laid out for my life became an impossibility. Not just a little piece of the plan, basically the whole plan. My psyche couldn't deal with my new reality. Too much hurt was already present and this broke me. With no more coping mechanisms everything spiraled out of control.
I started my own form of abuse, eating junk and lots of it. It made me feel better...for a while.
The thing is, I know my life is good now. I've been through the bad, and this sure isn't it. It's just different than I had been prepared for and adaptation is a hard thing when you're disappointed. For years I've been working through the mental part of healing and now I'm ready to work off the pain I've held in the form of fat.
Fat helped me hide from the world when I needed privacy. It was a visual reminder of the pain I was dealing with. In a way it validated my husband's love for me since through it all he has been supportive and loving, even when he was worried for me and surprised by my physical changes.
So I say thank you to my fat for being here for me when I needed it. Now I'm ready to say goodbye and let it go. I'm on a new path and I'm ready.