As mentioned, I have always battled my weight, and have always had a love/hate relationship with food. Looking back, I see how this ran in my family, with my Grandmother speaking of "sinning" when she ate certain foods, and Mother also struggling to lose weight and keep it off.
As I look back at teenage Ali, caught shoplifting and sitting on a bench looking so waif-like, her big blue eyes glaring at me from a pale, drawn face, I see the skinny person who was inside of me, struggling to come out. I realized in that moment how thin she had gotten, and I made mention of this fact to her. As with many observations I have made to her, about her, she shook her head and shrugged off my concern.
Later, when I had ironically lost 80 pounds, in 2008, and she had put on weight because she was with Henry and living what appeared to be a "normal life," we were able to share clothes. For about a year, and then she began to lose again, and I began to gain. For that one year though... things felt in sync. To me, anyway.
I do not mean to imply that Ali's teen and young adult years were miserable for us both. Certainly we had our good moments, and we always knew how to make one another laugh. There is no doubt though, there were struggles. Many times these were the plain and simple result of the two of us being so different.
After years of feeling oppressed and shut down, I was ready to spread my wings and fly, being open and free. However, Ali made it known that many of the things that made "me" me, needed to be hidden in order to respect her comfort level. This mainly centered around my belief in magic and my bisexuality. I distinctly remember having to remove my sexual orientation from my first Myspace way page back in ... oh, 2004 or 2005.
The same held true for politics. I hail from a liberal, progressive background myself and still hold these sort of views. Although Ali did not become more outspoken politically until more recent years, she still made it clear that this was not a discussion she wished to engage in. While she was not yet an announced Christian, she still had respect for my right to engage in alternative spiritual practices, she encouraged me to be discreet about it at the same time. So at least around my daughter and her friends and their families, I was underground.
I guess I funneled a lot of my frustration and desire to be free with myself into online "personas" ... and this was during the early to mid 2000s so there was a lot of new unexplored online territory. My being on the computer so much, between being a college student and conducting part of my social life online, probably helped distance myself even more from Ali and what she was going through at the time.
Once Ali came out of the closet and no longer lived right next door, with Henry, but with her new partner, our relationship changed again. Once more, I did not see her that much, and when I did, there was usually a reason. As I look back, I see that she lost weight once again very quickly. I attributed this to her being with a more slender partner, and perhaps money for food being leaner than it had been when she was more enmeshed in my life.
But yes, looking back she did lose the weight very quickly, in a matter of months. And has never been overweight again. It is true, she has achieved that thing that I always longed for but never attained, long-term, But she has suffered, oh how she has suffered in the quest, the drive, the addiction, to being thin. The price she has paid, has it been worth it for her? Only she could tell you that. I do know that I believed, at the point her severe health problems began, that she had HAD an eating disorder as a teen, and was now struggling to be healthy, while fighting digestive, emotional, and mental hurdles that resulted in irrevocable consequences.
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Saturday, April 16, 2016
My Hardest Relationship
My negative relationship with food happened when I was around 5th grade - 10 years old or so- and it seemed to all happen in a whirlwind of events. That summer of 1970. we went as ever to spend two weeks in southwestern Iowa to visit and invade my dad's relatives' lives. At same point, while visiting my grandparents, I overheard my grandfather in the basement, talking to my mother.
"It is too bad Sharon is turning out to be fat," he was saying in that disapproving tone he was an expert at adopting,"she is such a beauty, otherwise."
My mother, I am not sure what she said to be honest, or what else I heard from the top of the staircase, but those words ... "turning out to be fat ... such a beauty otherwise ..." kept refraining in my head.
Over and over. Over and over and over. Over and over and over and over ... you get the idea.
And so, I began my first diet. Deprivation and resentments and failure and more resentments. Looking at other girls, skinny bitches, with a combination of deep desire and burning envy. Why could I not starve myself, deprive myself, and magically transform myself into one of them? Why was I stuck in this fat, fat body?
The next event occurred in school, a few months later. It was one of those much-hated-by-yours-truly days at school where you had to complete various "fitness" tasks. I already knew I was not athletic, not even able to run around the school without being out of breathe and having side cramps. Why did they have to remind me with a pounding thud, over and over again throughout the day? Always picked last for teams, I had even been beaten up by angry competitive kids whose team I "made lose" with my horrible lack of skills. So, therefore, I was already dreading the day ahead of humiliation and pain.
But no, it got better! We all had to step on scales while a nurse announced our weight to our entire class, and recorded it. I began to tremble from head to toe and was feeling like peeing and throwing up simultaneously when it was my turn for the torture.
"145 pounds," she announced, and I felt as if the world was opening up to swallow me whole.
I would not say my entire class burst out laughing and talking in derogatory terms about that number, but it sure felt that way. I can also see, looking back, that this was one of many instances in which I dissociated and did not let the full emotional effect of what was happening affect me, But it did hit me physically and once again, efforts to lose weight commenced. With the same mixed and limited results.
Then there was the boy I had a crush on. He looked like one of my celebrity crushes at the time, Robert Morse. I had one or two "friends" at that point, just little snippy girls whose friendship was not super satisfying for me. I told them that I had a thing for this boy, and they took it upon themselves to tell him of my feelings for him. And to tell me of his reaction ...which was basically, "Yuck, she's fat!"
It all pointed to me, in 5th grade, drinking my first protein shakes for two meals a day, and having salad and celery for dinner as me "one healthy meal," and stepping on scales and crying that I have not lost any weight, or I have but not enough, or fast enough, or ....
A lifetime of diets and scales and binge eating and avoiding scales, of closets full of "good, skinny clothes" and "bad, fatso clothes." Of always comparing myself to other women in terms of "is she thinner than me?"
As well, a lifetime of cheating and binging, of falling off the wagon and spinning out of control, eating all the crap I had been avoiding and gaining back any weight I had lost with rapidity, telling myself I had to get back on track, and beginning the cycle all over again.
When I got older, I would have periods of thinness - either due to being in state of poverty, or chemically induced, and I would have periods of chubbiness, where I would, looking back, be a healthy weight plus a little extra, but I felt horribly fat at the time. I never really allowed myself to become super overweight until much later, when I was a divorced single mom of teens and no longer using drugs that were appetite suppressants. As well, I had no-one to tell me what I could and could not eat or that I was getting fat ... and so, I felt in control of my life, and what I ate went out of control.
I saw a photo of myself fixing Ali's hair in 2007, realized how big I had gotten, and decided it was time for sensible eating and working out. To the tune of waking up and exercising, and coming home from work and exercising, and tracking every single calorie I ate. I did lose weight, and felt good, and was really really obsessed with it all.
I also went through Hep C treatment in that time, and my first long-term lesbian relationship since high school, and delved deeper into my career as a counselor, and was just generally busy and feeling fulfilled. I am not exactly sure when that started changing, exactly.
But now in 2016, here I am, once again, fat and out of shape. Following a new meal plan though, one that is simple, balanced, and allows for versatility without deprivation. As well as not obsessively exercising, but beginning to progress once again in my workouts. Still trying to find a good balance in my life.
More to come ...
"It is too bad Sharon is turning out to be fat," he was saying in that disapproving tone he was an expert at adopting,"she is such a beauty, otherwise."
My mother, I am not sure what she said to be honest, or what else I heard from the top of the staircase, but those words ... "turning out to be fat ... such a beauty otherwise ..." kept refraining in my head.
Over and over. Over and over and over. Over and over and over and over ... you get the idea.
And so, I began my first diet. Deprivation and resentments and failure and more resentments. Looking at other girls, skinny bitches, with a combination of deep desire and burning envy. Why could I not starve myself, deprive myself, and magically transform myself into one of them? Why was I stuck in this fat, fat body?
The next event occurred in school, a few months later. It was one of those much-hated-by-yours-truly days at school where you had to complete various "fitness" tasks. I already knew I was not athletic, not even able to run around the school without being out of breathe and having side cramps. Why did they have to remind me with a pounding thud, over and over again throughout the day? Always picked last for teams, I had even been beaten up by angry competitive kids whose team I "made lose" with my horrible lack of skills. So, therefore, I was already dreading the day ahead of humiliation and pain.
But no, it got better! We all had to step on scales while a nurse announced our weight to our entire class, and recorded it. I began to tremble from head to toe and was feeling like peeing and throwing up simultaneously when it was my turn for the torture.
"145 pounds," she announced, and I felt as if the world was opening up to swallow me whole.
I would not say my entire class burst out laughing and talking in derogatory terms about that number, but it sure felt that way. I can also see, looking back, that this was one of many instances in which I dissociated and did not let the full emotional effect of what was happening affect me, But it did hit me physically and once again, efforts to lose weight commenced. With the same mixed and limited results.
Then there was the boy I had a crush on. He looked like one of my celebrity crushes at the time, Robert Morse. I had one or two "friends" at that point, just little snippy girls whose friendship was not super satisfying for me. I told them that I had a thing for this boy, and they took it upon themselves to tell him of my feelings for him. And to tell me of his reaction ...which was basically, "Yuck, she's fat!"
It all pointed to me, in 5th grade, drinking my first protein shakes for two meals a day, and having salad and celery for dinner as me "one healthy meal," and stepping on scales and crying that I have not lost any weight, or I have but not enough, or fast enough, or ....
A lifetime of diets and scales and binge eating and avoiding scales, of closets full of "good, skinny clothes" and "bad, fatso clothes." Of always comparing myself to other women in terms of "is she thinner than me?"
As well, a lifetime of cheating and binging, of falling off the wagon and spinning out of control, eating all the crap I had been avoiding and gaining back any weight I had lost with rapidity, telling myself I had to get back on track, and beginning the cycle all over again.
When I got older, I would have periods of thinness - either due to being in state of poverty, or chemically induced, and I would have periods of chubbiness, where I would, looking back, be a healthy weight plus a little extra, but I felt horribly fat at the time. I never really allowed myself to become super overweight until much later, when I was a divorced single mom of teens and no longer using drugs that were appetite suppressants. As well, I had no-one to tell me what I could and could not eat or that I was getting fat ... and so, I felt in control of my life, and what I ate went out of control.
I saw a photo of myself fixing Ali's hair in 2007, realized how big I had gotten, and decided it was time for sensible eating and working out. To the tune of waking up and exercising, and coming home from work and exercising, and tracking every single calorie I ate. I did lose weight, and felt good, and was really really obsessed with it all.
I also went through Hep C treatment in that time, and my first long-term lesbian relationship since high school, and delved deeper into my career as a counselor, and was just generally busy and feeling fulfilled. I am not exactly sure when that started changing, exactly.
But now in 2016, here I am, once again, fat and out of shape. Following a new meal plan though, one that is simple, balanced, and allows for versatility without deprivation. As well as not obsessively exercising, but beginning to progress once again in my workouts. Still trying to find a good balance in my life.
More to come ...
Friday, April 8, 2016
Ali's Teenage Years Begin
Things were so much better. I provided a roof over our heads, food in our mouths, clothing, rides to school, extras. Also, my guilt over the past made me overindulge and be permissive with my children, Ali soon learned that if she asked in the right way, with her sweet blue eyes gazing at me hopefully, she would pretty much get what she wanted.
I decided to lose my annoying job as a restaurant manager in order to return to school and become a counselor. I wanted to help those who were in the shoes I had been in. I didn't want to just go to work, I wanted to follow a calling and have a purpose and so forth. Suddenly I was driven by grades and desire.
Add to that a discovery of the internet and all the wonders of that, and I was really busy with life.
Now years later, I reflect back ...
How does it feel to be a counselor and yet have my daughter going through so many issues: mentally, physically, emotionally, and not know so much of what she was going through? Presumably right under my nose, although she managed to stay under the radar much of the time, to be honest.
Pretty ironic, to say the least. I do definitely fall into morosity at times, asking myself why I didn't, and telling myself I should have ... but it really does no good. When it comes to self-talk, I just try to tell myself that...
A. I did the best I could with what I knew, and when I knew better, I did better.
B. Everyone knows (or, they say) that counselors are great at fixing others but not their own families.
C. I was super-duper busy, between work, school, internships, and an admitted addiction to the internet, in the early-to-mid 2000s ... I was trying to make something of myself. And by all accounts, I have. So it wasn't like I was being neglectful because I was fucking up or purposely blowing her off.
And in the end, who knows except that it was what it was at the time. Believe me, as I look back I see the signs of it all. The PTSD, the substance abuse and mental health issues resulting in moods and erratic behavior, the eating disorder cleverly masked by cutting and other disturbing behaviors ...
When Ali was 13, she shrieked at me during a disagreement, "you ruined my life!" and that seems, looking back, like this was the start of the descent into hell for her. I agreed with her, told her she needed counseling again (an attempt had been made when we were reunited by CPS when she was younger), and thus begun that saga. The cutting behavior was the main focus of the counseling, and she did seem to stop, or at least go underground with it.
Ali had always been a complicated, somewhat secretive about certain topics, opinionated, and stubborn girl. As she grew into her teens, this became more pronounced. I found myself losing my tempter at times with her, slamming doors and swearing, leaving the house in anger, sometimes dreading coming home from work or school. I suppose this is why, when she had friends with whom she would stay overnight, I gladly let her go! We both, I believe, needed a break.
Another way that Ali had been complicated and secretive, yet so obvious to the rest of us, was regarding her sexuality. It seemed that her brother and I had pegged early on that she was likely going to be lesbian or bisexual when she came of age. Mentioning this to Ali resulted in her freaking out, so we learned not to make comments to her and keep our opinions to ourselves. She had very close attachments to females, as well as admiring certain celebrities who were female. Yet did not really seem to care about boys and whenever a man and woman kissing was shown in a movie, she literally gagged.
I was always open with my children about my own orientation, which is bisexual in nature. I encouraged them to be open in return, but Ali balked at this. She professed to be completely asexual, with no interest in romance whatsoever. This changed too as she moved into her teens, and she began to date boys, treating them horribly, like petty serfs who were beneath her. Because she is so darn beautiful, she got away with this.
Then she became friends with and eventually dated "Henry," and so many things changed for the better. I thought we were over the humps and bumps and now, at long last, things with Ali would be smooth sailing.
Yeah, right ...
I decided to lose my annoying job as a restaurant manager in order to return to school and become a counselor. I wanted to help those who were in the shoes I had been in. I didn't want to just go to work, I wanted to follow a calling and have a purpose and so forth. Suddenly I was driven by grades and desire.
Add to that a discovery of the internet and all the wonders of that, and I was really busy with life.
Now years later, I reflect back ...
How does it feel to be a counselor and yet have my daughter going through so many issues: mentally, physically, emotionally, and not know so much of what she was going through? Presumably right under my nose, although she managed to stay under the radar much of the time, to be honest.
Pretty ironic, to say the least. I do definitely fall into morosity at times, asking myself why I didn't, and telling myself I should have ... but it really does no good. When it comes to self-talk, I just try to tell myself that...
A. I did the best I could with what I knew, and when I knew better, I did better.
B. Everyone knows (or, they say) that counselors are great at fixing others but not their own families.
C. I was super-duper busy, between work, school, internships, and an admitted addiction to the internet, in the early-to-mid 2000s ... I was trying to make something of myself. And by all accounts, I have. So it wasn't like I was being neglectful because I was fucking up or purposely blowing her off.
And in the end, who knows except that it was what it was at the time. Believe me, as I look back I see the signs of it all. The PTSD, the substance abuse and mental health issues resulting in moods and erratic behavior, the eating disorder cleverly masked by cutting and other disturbing behaviors ...
When Ali was 13, she shrieked at me during a disagreement, "you ruined my life!" and that seems, looking back, like this was the start of the descent into hell for her. I agreed with her, told her she needed counseling again (an attempt had been made when we were reunited by CPS when she was younger), and thus begun that saga. The cutting behavior was the main focus of the counseling, and she did seem to stop, or at least go underground with it.
Ali had always been a complicated, somewhat secretive about certain topics, opinionated, and stubborn girl. As she grew into her teens, this became more pronounced. I found myself losing my tempter at times with her, slamming doors and swearing, leaving the house in anger, sometimes dreading coming home from work or school. I suppose this is why, when she had friends with whom she would stay overnight, I gladly let her go! We both, I believe, needed a break.
Another way that Ali had been complicated and secretive, yet so obvious to the rest of us, was regarding her sexuality. It seemed that her brother and I had pegged early on that she was likely going to be lesbian or bisexual when she came of age. Mentioning this to Ali resulted in her freaking out, so we learned not to make comments to her and keep our opinions to ourselves. She had very close attachments to females, as well as admiring certain celebrities who were female. Yet did not really seem to care about boys and whenever a man and woman kissing was shown in a movie, she literally gagged.
I was always open with my children about my own orientation, which is bisexual in nature. I encouraged them to be open in return, but Ali balked at this. She professed to be completely asexual, with no interest in romance whatsoever. This changed too as she moved into her teens, and she began to date boys, treating them horribly, like petty serfs who were beneath her. Because she is so darn beautiful, she got away with this.
Then she became friends with and eventually dated "Henry," and so many things changed for the better. I thought we were over the humps and bumps and now, at long last, things with Ali would be smooth sailing.
Yeah, right ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)