I know most of you aren't on this train... but I am going to kind of ..or.. try to , work through some things. Fat girl stuff. I just think there HAS to be others out there that are in my same boat. Maybe somehow we can help one another... I think it is going to be a long journey. Don't read if you don't wanna. Take THAT.
Things I need to figure out. Air some dirty laundry. Free my soul. Free the fat.
I have always had issues with food. My mom hid the "good stuff". When I was left to my own will and my parents would leave.. the hunt began. When I would finally FIND the good stuff (usually consisted of potato chips and oatmeal creme pies) I would do one of two things.... eat just enough that my mom would easily think that she did the damage. Or, go for the gusto-- pig out and hide the evidence. I would ALWAYS be caught. I would ALWAYS be questioned. I would ALWAYS lie about it. I wonder if I would have a different relationship with food as an adult if I just had access to it as a child. The weird part.. maybe something I should look into more... there was always ice cream in the freezer. I was a latch key kid... I had a lot of time on my own right after school..I would come home, turn on the tv, and promptly take a LARGE MIXING BOWL out of the cupboard, and fill it with ice cream. Was I doing it to fill the lonely void.. was it my friend? It wasn't as if we were poor. As I look back, I have to say that it is now obvious that my mom had that same crazy relationship--- except in the opposite direction. For lunch she would have a slice of cheese. One slice. No cracker. I think she thought that if she could carry on the rest of the day - so should I. Oh, I should mention, that the slice of cheese was usually accompanied by a glass or four of wine (for her, not me). Around the dinner table is usually when my parents would start the fight for the night. Nothing ever physically abusive.. just crazy drunk screaming, pounding around and acting a fool. So, I would eat as fast as I could, ask the nightly question... "Thank you for dinner, dinner was good, may I please be excused?" and run up to my room to hide, talk on the phone, or....god, I don't know WHAT I did. When my mom started working overnights at the Military Academy, it was up to my dad and I to fix dinner. We would eat one of three things: Hamburger helper (ALL OF IT), Banquet chicken (ALL OF IT) or a massive bag of egg noodles (ALL OF THEM). It was our "treat" our.. acting out because mom was gone.. and we could do whatever we wanted! It is no longer a treat when you have it on a regular basis.
When I moved out on my own, at the age of 18... I don't remember having those issues. I had my own food. I could buy what I want. But then- for some reason- it turned into fast food. I would eat it as I drove, I would stop at more than one place. I would ... very important here.... hide the evidence. I moved back home... it got worse. I moved away again- went to college, failed miserably-- and ate myself sick. At one point I ended up in the hospital parking lot thinking something was seriously wrong with me... until I puked the cart full of junk food that I ate because I was alone. Because I could. But I still hid the evidence.
Where is all of this coming from? Why now? I am in control of my life. I have a job, I have a partner, I have friends.
I started thinking that is HAS to be something from my past. I don't think it was one particular incident. No- I am not blacking out any abuse.. nothing like that.
It all popped up again when I found out that Mic is going to be gone tomorrow night... my first thought was "oh! what can I have for dinner that she wouldn't need to know about??"
My second thought was, "Lord, you are one fucked up individual."
In order for me to become a healthy whole individual, this all has to get ironed out.
Crazy part-- I KNOW what I need to do. I know WHAT exercises to do. I know what to eat, how many calories to consume, how much water, what to stay away from.
Why isn't it just that simple?
It is an addiction.
I am addicted to eating.
I am addicted to binge eating.
I am addicted to hiding my food.
It has been my friend, my comforter, my company, my secret, my crutch, my peace keeper.
I need to identify my triggers. I need to learn how to function as a healthy adult, and not give myself any other "out"
I need a magic pill. Where the hell are those? I think I sprinkled them all over my mint chocolate chip ice cream.
2 hours ago