I am a bit late to use the title “working on me in 2019”, considering it’s the 6th month of the year already and I am only just beginning this; but I know these thing’s can’t be rushed. At least that is what I am trying to remember, in my perpetual impatient desire to be the perfect person IMMEDITELY.
For as long as I can remember I have had a distorted image of myself, and even more so of food. It took me a long time to admit to anyone, let alone myself, that I did not enjoy eating, I did not care for food, or what it did for or to me. I ate for the purpose of survival, and often barely managed that. Food was fuel, it had to be eaten to get through the day, but I didn’t enjoy it nor want to do it, and often only did so when someone told me to, or put food in front of me. That is the primary reason I ate most days, because I didn’t want to worry the people around me, but even then it consisted of a lot of hiding food, and pushing it around, claiming a stomach ache a few mouthfuls in and asking to leave the table so I didn’t have to look at the untouched meal in front of me and feel guilty. Yet I felt less guilty for leaving the meal than I ever did for eating it.
My parents constantly tried to find ways of getting me to eat more, allowing me to binge on chocolate just so I had eaten something, or cooking me entirely separate meals from the rest of the family in the hopes that if I was constantly presented with my “favourite” meals then I had more reason to eat them. They were nothing but supportive of me in these formative years; despite the hours of home work outs, the constant wasted plates of food, the calorie counting and everything else that came along with it.
These years are still not something I like to, nor feel comfortable talking about in great detail, and only recently did I seek the advice of a professional and begin counselling. It was only then that I realised exactly how damaging this relationship with food and eating had been. Piece by piece dismantling my mental and physical health to make myself as small as possible, in a vain attempt to stop the world from seeing me. I was embarrassed of who I was; of my very bones, I did not know my place in the world, so I decided to try and take up as little room as possible, and then I would be able to fit in anywhere. I learned the hard way that that is not how it works.
I have been lucky to realise where this path was taking me, before I got too far along it. Whilst it has been years in that mindset, of doing what felt like irreparable damage, I can see the other side. I am hoping that in writing these updates on my journey and progress, I will be able to be consistent in it, knowing I have to own my actions if I can see them in front of me. I have no expectations for this to be easy, or a quick fix, no matter how hard this may seem I know I have to do it to give myself the best future. As I look back on recent weeks it is easy to be disheartened by what feels like a lack of progress, frustrated that I am trying and getting nowhere. Yet when I look further, by nearly 10 years, I can see how far I have come since then and again remind myself not to be so impatient.
I sincerely hope that I have not caused anyone any offence whilst writing this. I know that everyone’s experiences are different and that so many people struggle in so many ways. This is purely about my own previous experience, and my aim is only to document my future progress and experiences. I can completely understand and will take no offence if you should choose not to read anymore.