Secrets
I cannot remember a time I felt beautiful. Seriously, not one. I look back at pictures of myself over the years, and I think to myself "I remember that day, I felt so fat." Honestly, now that I look at them again, in the majority of those photos, I have no clue what I was thinking.
Ever since I can remember, my motivation at the gym was simply to be skinny and pretty. If a guy didn't like me it was because I was too fat (heaven forbid I think it's because we didn't have chemistry, or better yet that God was waiting to give me Spencer some day!). I always felt like the ugly friend in the group (regardless of what group that was). I can't remember a single moment looking into a mirror and liking what I saw. I have covered my body up, or worse, given it away to someone just to feel desired for a small amount of time.
It's been almost 29 years of that, and I am exhausted.
I've never kept it a secret that I deal with anxiety and depression, but I have kept this a secret. I find comfort in food. When the going gets tough, I eat. I eat until I'm uncomfortably full. I hide away in my house, turn on a movie, order a pizza and for a small amount of time I escape. I dont feel stressed. I dont feel sad. I dont feel anything. Until I feel full, and I hate myself. The cycle only continues.
This is called binge eating disorder. No one warns you of this. In middle school health when we all started hearing about eating disorders anorexia and bulimia were the only disorders they talked about. What about exercise disorder? What about excessive dieting? What about all the other horrible relationships you can have with food? It never occurred to me that food could be to me what drugs and/or alcohol are to others.
People can look at my pictures through facebook over the years. My weight has been so low that my clothes wouldn't stay on (and I still felt fat and ugly) and so high that I've had to buy new clothes entirely (when depression is at it's peak). I've done it all. I've done weight watchers, i've counted calories, I've eaten clean, I've worked out for hours on end. Somehow, nothing ever worked.
It wasn't until living with Spencer when I realized I had a problem. Living with someone, your skeletons don't stay in your closet very long. Before our engagement pictures, I remember sitting on the floor sobbing because nothing fit. My mom (was in town) told me to get up, clean up, and we were getting me clothes. Spencer had tried everything from saying "no" to my eating to just flat out letting me do what I want and watching me hate myself after. Its a no-win game for him.
One day he decided to take away the scale. I agreed, but I ask him about 10 times a day if I can have it back. Once a month I am allowed to weigh myself. That number rules me.
Recently, I was formally diagnosed with an eating disorder and body dysmorphia.
I am learning to eat based on my own hunger and how I feel. I haven't stepped in a gym for over a month because I'm not allowed to start working out until I do it for the right reasons and not to burn calories. Every single day is a battle with food. Some days I win, and some days I lose.
I say this not as a pity party for me. Honestly, this is the hardest but most freeing thing I've dealt with in a long time. Finally, there's an answer. Finally, I know that I am sick and what I see in the mirror is not what everyone else sees. Finally it makes sense.
Getting healthy will take time. My counselor really wanted me to push back my wedding date (but deposits have been made and save the dates have gone out so that's not an option). I'm not going to be better tomorrow, but I will be better. I have gotten to the point where sometimes I don't want pizza, because I dont want to feel like crap all day after it. I want to go to the gym again not because I want to be skinny, but because it clears my head. I dont pick what I do or what I eat based on how to be skinny, I pick it based on me.
The road is going to be really long, but I'm on board for the ride. Thankfully, I have Spencer, my parents, and my friends cheering me on.
The point of this post is not to let the world know I'm struggling, it's to let the world know a lot of us are struggling, but you just don't know it. Just because someone isn't skin and bones does not mean they are happy. Be careful what you say to someone, because they will carry it with them (I still remember John Didier calling me the "fat girl" in 8th grade....). Be nice to each other. Be kind. Everyone has something they struggle with. It's time to stop judging. What I weigh is no one's business but my own. Stop the body shaming. Stop the cruelty. Start loving and accepting.
Ever since I can remember, my motivation at the gym was simply to be skinny and pretty. If a guy didn't like me it was because I was too fat (heaven forbid I think it's because we didn't have chemistry, or better yet that God was waiting to give me Spencer some day!). I always felt like the ugly friend in the group (regardless of what group that was). I can't remember a single moment looking into a mirror and liking what I saw. I have covered my body up, or worse, given it away to someone just to feel desired for a small amount of time.
It's been almost 29 years of that, and I am exhausted.
I've never kept it a secret that I deal with anxiety and depression, but I have kept this a secret. I find comfort in food. When the going gets tough, I eat. I eat until I'm uncomfortably full. I hide away in my house, turn on a movie, order a pizza and for a small amount of time I escape. I dont feel stressed. I dont feel sad. I dont feel anything. Until I feel full, and I hate myself. The cycle only continues.
This is called binge eating disorder. No one warns you of this. In middle school health when we all started hearing about eating disorders anorexia and bulimia were the only disorders they talked about. What about exercise disorder? What about excessive dieting? What about all the other horrible relationships you can have with food? It never occurred to me that food could be to me what drugs and/or alcohol are to others.
People can look at my pictures through facebook over the years. My weight has been so low that my clothes wouldn't stay on (and I still felt fat and ugly) and so high that I've had to buy new clothes entirely (when depression is at it's peak). I've done it all. I've done weight watchers, i've counted calories, I've eaten clean, I've worked out for hours on end. Somehow, nothing ever worked.
It wasn't until living with Spencer when I realized I had a problem. Living with someone, your skeletons don't stay in your closet very long. Before our engagement pictures, I remember sitting on the floor sobbing because nothing fit. My mom (was in town) told me to get up, clean up, and we were getting me clothes. Spencer had tried everything from saying "no" to my eating to just flat out letting me do what I want and watching me hate myself after. Its a no-win game for him.
One day he decided to take away the scale. I agreed, but I ask him about 10 times a day if I can have it back. Once a month I am allowed to weigh myself. That number rules me.
Recently, I was formally diagnosed with an eating disorder and body dysmorphia.
I am learning to eat based on my own hunger and how I feel. I haven't stepped in a gym for over a month because I'm not allowed to start working out until I do it for the right reasons and not to burn calories. Every single day is a battle with food. Some days I win, and some days I lose.
I say this not as a pity party for me. Honestly, this is the hardest but most freeing thing I've dealt with in a long time. Finally, there's an answer. Finally, I know that I am sick and what I see in the mirror is not what everyone else sees. Finally it makes sense.
Getting healthy will take time. My counselor really wanted me to push back my wedding date (but deposits have been made and save the dates have gone out so that's not an option). I'm not going to be better tomorrow, but I will be better. I have gotten to the point where sometimes I don't want pizza, because I dont want to feel like crap all day after it. I want to go to the gym again not because I want to be skinny, but because it clears my head. I dont pick what I do or what I eat based on how to be skinny, I pick it based on me.
The road is going to be really long, but I'm on board for the ride. Thankfully, I have Spencer, my parents, and my friends cheering me on.
The point of this post is not to let the world know I'm struggling, it's to let the world know a lot of us are struggling, but you just don't know it. Just because someone isn't skin and bones does not mean they are happy. Be careful what you say to someone, because they will carry it with them (I still remember John Didier calling me the "fat girl" in 8th grade....). Be nice to each other. Be kind. Everyone has something they struggle with. It's time to stop judging. What I weigh is no one's business but my own. Stop the body shaming. Stop the cruelty. Start loving and accepting.
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