I've made it a goal to become a better writer. I read some of my blog posts from the past and realized that my minimal writing skills have diminished since college. I wasn't a good writer then, so I can't really afford to lose any more of my writing skills.
While most of my writing is done by hand, I felt compelled to really write part of my life story. This story is a long one. It is one that goes back more more a decade and is filled with so many major events. It is a story that is still unfolding today. It is a story that needs to give me the ability to quickly edit, copy, and paste until it feels just right. And it is a story that I may need to tell to a student or my children. It is best when it is somewhat thought out and organized.
And it is a story that will be told in many parts. The pieces I post here are works in progress they are a road to healing and recovery. It is rough draft to what will become just a small piece of my story. And here is where it all begins . . .
As I sit here tonight with my throat a little sore, my voice a little hoarse, and my heart a little pained, I realize that it hasn't even been 7 years since I last sat in this same position. It hasn't even been 7 years since I last found myself questioning how my past is my present. How did I let this happen again? How did I let this happen in the first place? Just under 7 years ago I was willing to drive to McDonalds, eat in the car, and throw up In a plastic bag on the way to work. Just under 7 years ago I ate less than 400 calories a day.
Maybe it is time that I actually face the situation for what it is. Maybe it is time that I dig deep into my memory and piece together the past I have worked so hard to forget. Maybe. At least it would be a start.
I had to be just a little younger than 13. I had a lot of social anxiety. I had the need to be perfect. I had the desire to feel wanted and loved. Above all else, I had the need to be in control.
I had a plan: find a way to be popular, beautiful, and smart. I knew that the end goal was to have it all, and I would stick to that plan. Until the plan quietly started to consume me.
I didn't see it coming. I didn't notice the plan starting to mask the person I was. The changes were really subtle at first.
I was always observing people. I was really noticing things. I noticed how the girls that were cool wore specific clothes. I noticed how the popular kids talked. I noticed how even though I was in the popular crowd, I did not have a best friend in the crowd.
These were things I could change. I worked so hard to fit in. I worried about every sound that left my mouth and how it would be perceived by the others. I was careful to spend all my money on various colored polos and branded graphic tee shirts from popular stores. I even played soccer since everyone I hung around with did it to.
These things seem normal for a teenager in middle school. And they are.
What isn't normal is what happened later.
At the lunch table I couldn't just eat. I had to hear about how all these girls were upset that they couldn't fit into their size 12 clothes. They were not talking about size 12 in women's. They were talking about the girls' size. I was not a size 12. I had not been a size 12 for at least a year.
To hear these skinny girls talk about their bodies in this negative way, like there was something actually wrong with the way they looked, was devastating to my self-esteem. I adored these girls. I wished I could be as beautiful as these girls. If they didn't look good enough, I, for sure, didn't look good enough.
From the moment I first heard the girls hate their bodies, I began the long journey of what would be referred to as ED. To say the words eating disorder was too much. I know I've not really recovered because I still can't say those two words out loud.
Back in my middle school cafeteria, I could no longer sit at the lunch table and feel comfortable eating. I felt like all of their eyes were watching me. I was sure that they saw me eating and were disgusted by how much I put into my mouth. I was sure that they were wondering why the fat girl was eating so much. I was sure they noticed all the minute details of my lunch habits.
While these thoughts swirled through my head every day, I was becoming better at hiding in the crowd. The plan to be popular and beautiful was still in place, but I was going to have to try and lay low for a little bit. I needed to lose a little weight and maybe a chin. I couldn't be beautiful with those rolls on my stomach, and there was no way that I could be popular if I wasn't beautiful. Obviously that wouldn't make any sense.
While I won't go into many specifics, I quickly and unintentionally started sliding down the icy mountain of food restriction. I only ate specific food at specific times. I ate less and less in front of people, and in reality, I just ate less and less. I found ways at lunch to hid the amount I ate by taking a few bites of everything very slowly. By the time everyone started packing up to go to the gym, I just needed to throw all the food I didn't eat away.
This was really working out for me for quite a while. No one ever noticed that I was hardly eating, and everyone started to pay attention to me a little more. I was complimented by the other 12-13 year olds on my weight loss. In hindsight, 12-13 year olds shouldn't even notice weight loss in their peers. But their compliments only fueled me and my plan to become beautiful.
As my social life was thriving, I knew that popularity was ever changing. I couldn't just sit by and enjoy my friends, I needed to constantly work to better myself so that people would continue to like me. And it is right about here that ED felt so controlled and yet began to really control me.
I maybe at 50 calories at lunch, but this was too much for me. I had to eat dinner at home because it was easy to hide parts of my lunch at school, but it wasn't easy to hide my dinner in my lap at home. My parents would not approve of their nearly 13 year old trying to diet. I had to find a way to reduce my calories again.
Because I was already active and involved in sports, exercising didn't feel like a realistic way to lose more weight. Instead, I discovered that I could easily purge some of my calories in the girls’ bathroom.
Deep in my soul, I really wish that this was the one thing I never attempted. This has really affected my life beyond weight loss. Purging is the one thing that sends a calming effect throughout my body as soon as it happens. It is also the reason that people rarely notice when I relapse. It is also why I have continual problems with my teeth. It is also why I will always have problems with acid reflux.
So that's where it all started. It's scary to see how normal it all began. It makes me worried about my little girl. I worry that she will be susceptible to similar problems that I was. I don't understand genetics well. I don't have much to base my own genetic disposition on. But now, I fear for my daughter. I pray that the things I dealt with will keep her safer than I was.
I worked so hard to forget so much. I almost forgot how innocent ED was when it came into my life. I don't even know what this means now. How has my past become my present again? When will it stay in the past?
While most of my writing is done by hand, I felt compelled to really write part of my life story. This story is a long one. It is one that goes back more more a decade and is filled with so many major events. It is a story that is still unfolding today. It is a story that needs to give me the ability to quickly edit, copy, and paste until it feels just right. And it is a story that I may need to tell to a student or my children. It is best when it is somewhat thought out and organized.
And it is a story that will be told in many parts. The pieces I post here are works in progress they are a road to healing and recovery. It is rough draft to what will become just a small piece of my story. And here is where it all begins . . .
As I sit here tonight with my throat a little sore, my voice a little hoarse, and my heart a little pained, I realize that it hasn't even been 7 years since I last sat in this same position. It hasn't even been 7 years since I last found myself questioning how my past is my present. How did I let this happen again? How did I let this happen in the first place? Just under 7 years ago I was willing to drive to McDonalds, eat in the car, and throw up In a plastic bag on the way to work. Just under 7 years ago I ate less than 400 calories a day.
Maybe it is time that I actually face the situation for what it is. Maybe it is time that I dig deep into my memory and piece together the past I have worked so hard to forget. Maybe. At least it would be a start.
I had to be just a little younger than 13. I had a lot of social anxiety. I had the need to be perfect. I had the desire to feel wanted and loved. Above all else, I had the need to be in control.
I had a plan: find a way to be popular, beautiful, and smart. I knew that the end goal was to have it all, and I would stick to that plan. Until the plan quietly started to consume me.
I didn't see it coming. I didn't notice the plan starting to mask the person I was. The changes were really subtle at first.
I was always observing people. I was really noticing things. I noticed how the girls that were cool wore specific clothes. I noticed how the popular kids talked. I noticed how even though I was in the popular crowd, I did not have a best friend in the crowd.
These were things I could change. I worked so hard to fit in. I worried about every sound that left my mouth and how it would be perceived by the others. I was careful to spend all my money on various colored polos and branded graphic tee shirts from popular stores. I even played soccer since everyone I hung around with did it to.
These things seem normal for a teenager in middle school. And they are.
What isn't normal is what happened later.
At the lunch table I couldn't just eat. I had to hear about how all these girls were upset that they couldn't fit into their size 12 clothes. They were not talking about size 12 in women's. They were talking about the girls' size. I was not a size 12. I had not been a size 12 for at least a year.
To hear these skinny girls talk about their bodies in this negative way, like there was something actually wrong with the way they looked, was devastating to my self-esteem. I adored these girls. I wished I could be as beautiful as these girls. If they didn't look good enough, I, for sure, didn't look good enough.
From the moment I first heard the girls hate their bodies, I began the long journey of what would be referred to as ED. To say the words eating disorder was too much. I know I've not really recovered because I still can't say those two words out loud.
Back in my middle school cafeteria, I could no longer sit at the lunch table and feel comfortable eating. I felt like all of their eyes were watching me. I was sure that they saw me eating and were disgusted by how much I put into my mouth. I was sure that they were wondering why the fat girl was eating so much. I was sure they noticed all the minute details of my lunch habits.
While these thoughts swirled through my head every day, I was becoming better at hiding in the crowd. The plan to be popular and beautiful was still in place, but I was going to have to try and lay low for a little bit. I needed to lose a little weight and maybe a chin. I couldn't be beautiful with those rolls on my stomach, and there was no way that I could be popular if I wasn't beautiful. Obviously that wouldn't make any sense.
While I won't go into many specifics, I quickly and unintentionally started sliding down the icy mountain of food restriction. I only ate specific food at specific times. I ate less and less in front of people, and in reality, I just ate less and less. I found ways at lunch to hid the amount I ate by taking a few bites of everything very slowly. By the time everyone started packing up to go to the gym, I just needed to throw all the food I didn't eat away.
This was really working out for me for quite a while. No one ever noticed that I was hardly eating, and everyone started to pay attention to me a little more. I was complimented by the other 12-13 year olds on my weight loss. In hindsight, 12-13 year olds shouldn't even notice weight loss in their peers. But their compliments only fueled me and my plan to become beautiful.
As my social life was thriving, I knew that popularity was ever changing. I couldn't just sit by and enjoy my friends, I needed to constantly work to better myself so that people would continue to like me. And it is right about here that ED felt so controlled and yet began to really control me.
I maybe at 50 calories at lunch, but this was too much for me. I had to eat dinner at home because it was easy to hide parts of my lunch at school, but it wasn't easy to hide my dinner in my lap at home. My parents would not approve of their nearly 13 year old trying to diet. I had to find a way to reduce my calories again.
Because I was already active and involved in sports, exercising didn't feel like a realistic way to lose more weight. Instead, I discovered that I could easily purge some of my calories in the girls’ bathroom.
Deep in my soul, I really wish that this was the one thing I never attempted. This has really affected my life beyond weight loss. Purging is the one thing that sends a calming effect throughout my body as soon as it happens. It is also the reason that people rarely notice when I relapse. It is also why I have continual problems with my teeth. It is also why I will always have problems with acid reflux.
So that's where it all started. It's scary to see how normal it all began. It makes me worried about my little girl. I worry that she will be susceptible to similar problems that I was. I don't understand genetics well. I don't have much to base my own genetic disposition on. But now, I fear for my daughter. I pray that the things I dealt with will keep her safer than I was.
I worked so hard to forget so much. I almost forgot how innocent ED was when it came into my life. I don't even know what this means now. How has my past become my present again? When will it stay in the past?
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