I used to feel betrayed by my body, like she was constantly trying to undermine every effort I made to change her. I always thought that if my body loved me, and was working for me, then why wouldn't she do what I wanted her to do? Why didn't she look the way I wanted her to look? I was never taught that she was on my side.
A few years ago, I started to reconsider whether telling my personal story of recovery is productive to the effort to reduce the social stigma and shame that has been problematically linked to eating disorders.
Photo bySam MannsonUnsplash
Ten years ago I began to see signs in a different language–signs that I ignored. However, even though I disregarded them, they persisted in ever growing intensity. Was I a traveler exploring this vast world of ours? No. I was just a mom who held down a part time job while homeschooling my two daughters full time. So, what were these foreign signs? They were the signs of my youngest daughter’s journey down the rabbit hole we call eating disorders.
Trigger Warning: the following materials may be triggering for some individuals - please read with caution.
How do you make someone else understand exactly what it’s like to hate yourself? They usually just don’t get it and the conversation ends up as something like this:
“There must be something about yourself that you love.. Or at least like”
“I mean, I get good grades, so I guess I’m not a complete idiot”
Photo by Cooper Smith on Unsplash
Starting my recovery was the hardest decision I ever made, but I was thankful to have a supportive and trusting person by my side. My partner was the first person I ever opened up to about my eating disorder. Before them, like many, I was very secretive and ashamed of my disorder. Recently, that relationship has ended and as hard as it has been, re-entering the dating world has proven to be even more difficult.
TRIGGER WARNING: the following material may be triggering for some individuals – please read with caution.
I was always my daddy’s little girl. I would watch Coronation Street and Seinfeld with him on Sunday mornings as a child, and curl up in his lap. I didn’t understand the humor in these shows or why my dad liked them so much but still I sat with him – I didn’t inch for the remote or distract him.
In honor of International Day of Persons with Disabilities, I’d like to share with you the story of someone very important to me and why I recognize not only this day, but every other day, as a day to celebrate the inclusion of persons with disabilities. I must preface this blog with a “bear with me” as I am quite passionate about this subject and indebted to its content.
My brother was born with Cerebral Palsy.
TRIGGER WARNING: the following material may be triggering for some individuals. Please read with caution.
Everyday life comes to us in the way of a “meal”, asking us to digest and metabolize the daily events, excreting what doesn’t work, and assimilating what does.
What happens when the life event, is too heavy, too big, to digest in a day, month, year or even decade?
When my grandmother was 80 years old, she was a ‘quit smoking’ expert - she quit more times than most people have cooked lunches. She eventually quit and lived to the ripe old age of 98 - a prime example of never quitting.