madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tough Love Tough Love. I had my fill of it as a child and a teenager. My parents were obsessed with my weight. I was on my first diet by the age of 9. Out of respect for my parents, I will not go into specific details here in public. Those events are in the past and I have no desire to hurt them by recounting those incidents. I understand that they were trying to prevent me from a life of obesity and all the societal burdens that come with that. I now realize that they were doing the best they knew how at the time. But I will say that this �tough love� ranged from humiliation in front of others, to private humiliation, to rage and anger, to severe diets, to embarrassment, to hospitalization, to spying, to verbal jabs, to pleading, prodding, and when none of that worked my parents finally gave up. This went on from the time I was a child (I�m guessing about 5 years old or so) to the time I left the house (at 18). That�s 13 years. Tough love didn�t work on me for 13 years. If anything, it made me determined to do whatever I wanted when I �grew up�. My first year of college I gained like 30 pounds. It was the first time in my life I didn�t have someone looking over my shoulder every time I ate. It was the first time I had freedom to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted without any backlash or guilt. It was both exhilarating and frightening. I was astounded at the speed in which I was gaining weight. I was frightened by the amount of food I could eat without feeling full. And for the first time I glimpsed the future that my parent was worried about...my future as an obese woman. But then I met my husband and he was so accepting of my weight (I was like 230 at the time) and he thought I was beautiful just the way I was. He never looked down on me when I ate, he never judged me that way. He was the main reason I came to accept myself and my size. Which, at the time, was a good thing. My self-esteem was in the toilet. I grew up hating my body and being hyper-aware of my fat, being embarrassed all the time. But with my husband - I could see myself through his eyes and I knew I was a good person. For the first time I felt truly 100% accepted and loved. All this self-acceptance helped me gain 145 pounds in the following 10 years we were together. I guess my point is that I have had 13 years of tough love from the most influential significant people in my life � my parents. And then I�ve had 13 years of coddling and acceptance (regarding my weight) from the other most powerful and influential person in my life � my husband. So there is really nothing anyone could say or do here in the comments section of my journal that is going to spark another epiphany...tough love or kind coddling. Yes, it sucked to be told that I need to basically �shit or get off the pot� by someone who doesn�t even have enough balls to leave their name. And I�m sure, from the outside looking in, it seems like it would be that simple. But like I wrote yesterday, it is more complex than that. There are literally hundreds of outcomes, many possibilities. Maybe at some point down the road I will be mentally healthy enough to take on these great changes that need to occur. Maybe I will just slit my wrists and end it all when I get sick enough of this pain. Maybe I will find the right pill, the right therapist, the right circumstances that will give me that lever to pull myself out of this darkness. Maybe I will try and try until my body fails and I have no choices left. Maybe I will die trying. A friend wrote this to me, and I think it truly sums up what needs to happen in my life: "If you truly want to lose weight and feel at peace with yourself you've got to literally and figuratively work your ass off. There will not be one single step of the way that will feel good or easy. You're going to want to stop and give in just about every other minute. Your resolve will waiver with every sneeze and blink. You've got to recognize the behaviors that don't work, find suitable substitutions for those behaviors, and dig dig dig away at the mud that's covered your soul and buried your real body. You have to prove it to yourself first and foremost: that you want better and you're willing to do everything in your power to reach that "better" state. All that's required is doing the best that you can at every moment. That's not to say you won't screw up, cause in many cases screwing up is the best that you CAN do - cause you don't have the skills to act any differently. Push forward regardless. There's much to show to yourself." I think those are probably one of the most straightforward, kind, yet truthful observations that anyone has ever made about my situation. This person is suffering from her own eating disorder, and is showing me glimpses of her recovery every day. She�s been inspirational to me as she is wise beyond her years. She is intelligent but practical and both hopeful but realistic. And during a time when I needed to connect with someone who is all of those things, I stumbled into her life. I�ve always written in my journals because it provided a safe place for me to get feedback, to reach out to others, yes � to get support and understanding, to receive advice and most of all to write. I love writing and sharing my writing. Its something I wish I could do for a living, but I haven�t found the courage to put myself out there yet. But, I think it�s time for this journey to end. My Diaryland contract is up in 15 days and I�m not going to renew it. As of July 1st, both of my sites (my homestead site too) will be defunct. I have gotten so much from my readers the past 4 years, made many new friends, and have been able to share my writing with more people than I ever thought possible. I have loved this journal. But unlike a compelling novel that wraps life up in a neat package by the last page...my story doesn�t have a definitive ending. And I keep getting the feeling that people are sticking around for that grand finale that just might never come. I think there was a time when even I thought it would. It�s human nature to want that happy Hollywood ending. It�s human nature to root for the underdog � as long as they win sometimes. I, myself, have held out for that big turn-around moment when the last horse in the race suddenly gets a second wind and thunders past the other horses just in time to cross the finish line first. But let�s face it, it�s been four years, and the past 2 � have been just my misery and pain. Like most things in my life right now, I just need to pull away where no one else can see what I�m going through. I�m tired of baring this ugliness. The car wreck that is my life can finally be towed away and people can stop craning their necks to look. 2:08 p.m. - June 15, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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