Saturday, January 25, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
The Past...
When I first started this blog back in 2008, I had a lot of emotional issues regarding my weight, food, perfectionism, OCD...you name it. As a result of blogging and gentle prodding from some other wonderful bloggers, I finally realized how debilitating some of my "rules" for myself were becoming...how abnormal my responses to everyday living situations were. I finally decided to go into therapy in early 2009. For the majority of that year and 2010, I spent a lot of time (and money) working through my issues with a therapist who specializes in treating eating disorders and distorted body image. (I'm still in therapy, but only going once a month to help me stay emotionally healthy.)
During that time, I also shared a lot of my therapy insights on this blog...but have not felt the need so much lately. I'm much better and although I still have my moments when the old stinkin' thinkin' rears its head, in general I feel pretty good about myself. The negative voices are mostly quiet these days. And although my mother drives me crazy, for the most part I've made peace within myself regarding the things that happened during my childhood.
Then I started scanning old photos....and some of the photos are bringing up old crap.
Right now I'm scanning slides from the
mid- to late-1960's, when I was about 12-15 years old. My dad took a
lot of slides, but I don't remember even seeing most of them before.
(I always wondered how people were expected to view slides...you couldn't just look at them, like photos in a book. You had to set up the projector, and the screen, and be sure the slides are loaded in the tray in just the right way, and you could only watch them in a dark room...what a production! but I digress...)
The first thing that I noticed...
I was SKINNY. Really skinny. Not just normal weight, or even thin. I was a stick. In some of the pictures I actually look unwell.
But my mother was anorexic and told me I was overweight. I needed to watch what I ate. I needed to diet. (We often dieted together.) I was not allowed to have sweets. She even told me once that she was tired of buying me clothes that I just outgrew...it didn't matter that I outgrew them because I was getting "taller"...in her mind, it was because I was getting "bigger..." and in her twisted mind, that equated to "fatter."
Not too long ago, she was still ruminating out loud, wondering why my brother and I were fat growing up... "because I was always so careful about what I fed you." (In fact, my brother was very thin too.)
When you grow up with that kind of craziness, you learn to not trust your own eyes or instincts. If SHE says I'm fat...well, then I must be.
The second thing I noticed (actually it was noticed by Hub first)...
Hub was looking at the photos as I scanned them, and he asked "Why did you always have black eyes? It looks like someone was beating up on you!" I had no idea. I started looking through the photos, and I have black eyes in about a dozen of them.
I wrote a post a long time ago, about why I think I developed an eating disorder. In two of the photos on that post, I have really dark circles under my eyes. In the photo of me posing with my toys, where I'm pretty little, I always thought it was because I'd been sick. In the last photo, I'm not sure if I just look haunted or if I actually have black eyes for some reason.
I remember my mother would often beat on my brother because he messed up his homework. (The way she would hit him is very reminiscent of this recent story.) I do remember her frequently screaming at me and coming at me like she was going to scratch my eyes out. She did like to slap me, but I don't remember it ever causing me black eyes.
So I talked to Dr. D about it the other day, and showed the pictures to her. She said it does look like I had been punched or at least slapped REALLY hard and she says it's possible I'm dissociating, which she says is not unusual. (My brother and I are not close, and we don't talk much about our childhood, so I doubt he would tell me even if he remembers. He prefers to be stoic.)
Is it possible I accidentally fell on my face A LOT? If I did, I don't remember it...
I hesitated to write this post and share these things. Growing up, it was too shameful to admit to what was going on in our house...that my mother drank, starved herself, was often violent, and told me I was the most horrible child God ever created. I really didn't want anyone to know what was going on, because it was obviously my own fault.
It's cathartic for me to put it out there now. I'm fortunate I have such a wonderful therapist, as well as a really supportive husband. So things like these photos, that would have devastated me a few years ago, don't anymore. They make me kind of angry, but I do get past things a lot more quickly these days. I can actually look at them now with equanimity. My goal now is to continue to put together the pieces of the puzzle, and keep getting better.
As they say in Overeaters Anonymous, "We're only as sick as our secrets."
During that time, I also shared a lot of my therapy insights on this blog...but have not felt the need so much lately. I'm much better and although I still have my moments when the old stinkin' thinkin' rears its head, in general I feel pretty good about myself. The negative voices are mostly quiet these days. And although my mother drives me crazy, for the most part I've made peace within myself regarding the things that happened during my childhood.
Then I started scanning old photos....and some of the photos are bringing up old crap.
(I always wondered how people were expected to view slides...you couldn't just look at them, like photos in a book. You had to set up the projector, and the screen, and be sure the slides are loaded in the tray in just the right way, and you could only watch them in a dark room...what a production! but I digress...)
The first thing that I noticed...
I was SKINNY. Really skinny. Not just normal weight, or even thin. I was a stick. In some of the pictures I actually look unwell.
Not too long ago, she was still ruminating out loud, wondering why my brother and I were fat growing up... "because I was always so careful about what I fed you." (In fact, my brother was very thin too.)
When you grow up with that kind of craziness, you learn to not trust your own eyes or instincts. If SHE says I'm fat...well, then I must be.
The second thing I noticed (actually it was noticed by Hub first)...
Hub was looking at the photos as I scanned them, and he asked "Why did you always have black eyes? It looks like someone was beating up on you!" I had no idea. I started looking through the photos, and I have black eyes in about a dozen of them.
I remember my mother would often beat on my brother because he messed up his homework. (The way she would hit him is very reminiscent of this recent story.) I do remember her frequently screaming at me and coming at me like she was going to scratch my eyes out. She did like to slap me, but I don't remember it ever causing me black eyes.
So I talked to Dr. D about it the other day, and showed the pictures to her. She said it does look like I had been punched or at least slapped REALLY hard and she says it's possible I'm dissociating, which she says is not unusual. (My brother and I are not close, and we don't talk much about our childhood, so I doubt he would tell me even if he remembers. He prefers to be stoic.)
Is it possible I accidentally fell on my face A LOT? If I did, I don't remember it...
I hesitated to write this post and share these things. Growing up, it was too shameful to admit to what was going on in our house...that my mother drank, starved herself, was often violent, and told me I was the most horrible child God ever created. I really didn't want anyone to know what was going on, because it was obviously my own fault.
It's cathartic for me to put it out there now. I'm fortunate I have such a wonderful therapist, as well as a really supportive husband. So things like these photos, that would have devastated me a few years ago, don't anymore. They make me kind of angry, but I do get past things a lot more quickly these days. I can actually look at them now with equanimity. My goal now is to continue to put together the pieces of the puzzle, and keep getting better.
As they say in Overeaters Anonymous, "We're only as sick as our secrets."
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Seahawks NFC Champs!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)