People often ask me what I did to lose weight and I tell them exercise and healthy eating. That is the truth, the easy half of the truth. The more difficult hard truth doesn’t come in a neat little bow and package.
The hard truth is that for every ounce of weight I lost I had to go back and uncover the pain that I buried with food. The pain that was still fresh because I had never dealt with any of it. I would remember things that I had blocked out of my mind. Like when I told my mother that my paternal grandfather was molesting me and she told me at the time a 7 year old, that she wished there was something she could do to help me. She then handed me a whole bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I ate the whole entire bag in about 10 minutes.
The truth is that my childhood was difficult and food was how I coped. I did the best I could. I survived.
My mother did not raise me and I am mostly thankful for that. Her love is conditional and in order to receive it you must not say or do the wrong thing because she will stop talking to you. She will wipe you out of her life. The truth is I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t see her much but this year for spring break I wanted to see some family I haven’t seen for a while. She invited herself to stay in the same hotel I was staying in. I didn’t say anything I just ate candy bar. I ate the past three days not because I was hungry but because I was stuffing down the pain. I know that I can never have a real relationship with my mother. I know that just to stay a small part of her life I can’t share myself with her. The truth is that it still hurts.
The hard truth is that for every ounce of weight I lost I had to go back and uncover the pain that I buried with food. The pain that was still fresh because I had never dealt with any of it. I would remember things that I had blocked out of my mind. Like when I told my mother that my paternal grandfather was molesting me and she told me at the time a 7 year old, that she wished there was something she could do to help me. She then handed me a whole bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I ate the whole entire bag in about 10 minutes.
The truth is that my childhood was difficult and food was how I coped. I did the best I could. I survived.
My mother did not raise me and I am mostly thankful for that. Her love is conditional and in order to receive it you must not say or do the wrong thing because she will stop talking to you. She will wipe you out of her life. The truth is I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t see her much but this year for spring break I wanted to see some family I haven’t seen for a while. She invited herself to stay in the same hotel I was staying in. I didn’t say anything I just ate candy bar. I ate the past three days not because I was hungry but because I was stuffing down the pain. I know that I can never have a real relationship with my mother. I know that just to stay a small part of her life I can’t share myself with her. The truth is that it still hurts.
The truth is that I converted back to my old habits. I ate to numb myself to keep the pain down. I could beat myself up over this, over the extra food I consumed but I also know that I did the best I could. I survived.
This morning instead of punishing myself, I treated myself. I went on hike to my favorite place. I sat and meditated at the top of sand dune overlooking Lake Michigan and tried to deal with my feelings. I cried. I laughed. I screamed. I sat silently. I rejoiced in the truth I have survived and that my best is getting better.
The truth is that losing weight and keeping it off is not just about food and exercise.
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