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."
I think we grew up simalar Grace... only my abuser was my step mother. She told me I was fat when I was 12 years old, I was 5 feet 5 inches tall and weighed 107 pounds... I was not fat. She beat us and basically told us we were garbage.
ReplyDeleteWe made it through though didn't we... we are stronger than they were... they were weak to abuse a helpless child...
Very open, honest and insightful post ♡
Thanks for being here, Luanna. I'm so glad we've found each other's blogs!
DeleteSorry, I meant "Launna"... I have a friend whose name is Luanne...different but similar! :-)
DeleteI think a lot of people with eating issues have childhoods similar to yours. It's hard for me not to be bitter sometimes. I have told myself that "that was the best they could do at the time". It's funny how it is easier to blog about these things than it is to talk to others face to face about it - not funny ha ha but funny weird. Parents with issues of their own are ill-equipped to deal with growing children. I'm glad you are an overcomer and I am glad you are blogging with me. Take care.
ReplyDeleteNo one in my real life knows about some of the things that happened. I can only talk about my childhood with my therapist, my husband, and my blog. All three are so helpful in getting some perspective on the past. Thanks for your comment! :-)
DeleteDitto what Myra just said. A lot of people with eating issues can trace them back to a sick parent. My childhood was not as bad as yours, I don't think, who's to say and I know its not a contest. But my dad's mom was mentally ill and she was obese and I think my dad associated weight with all the unfair things she did when he was growing up. He obsesses to this day about his weight, my weight, my sister's weight and my mom's. When he sees my daughters he likes to comment "oh look how thin you are". I want to punch him in the face. Every time the subject of eating comes up, which with him is often, he tells whoever will listen about his way of eating one cookie for breakfast, a couple of summer sausages for lunch then he hardly eats any dinner. Oh and he smokes like a house on fire. Sorry to be rambling on your page but my parents are still living. I work very hard to stay in a state of forgiveness for my dad, knowing his sickness is his and doesn't have to be mine. I am so glad you wrote this. I am so happy for you that you have gotten so far in your journey away from the dysfunction. I can't write about my dad on my blog. I just can't do it. He is alive and my family read it and I don't want to open the lid on that box. So thank you for giving me a place to share and for your courage to share. I wish you continued growth and peace on your journey.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comment (which I didn't think was rambling, BTW). I do think we all grow up with some dysfunction, and although the degree varies, it carries over into our adulthood.
DeleteYou are right, it is not a contest...I know there are many people who were abused much worse than me! But we each have our issues to deal with. My blog is pretty much anonymous, and none of my friends "in real life" know it exists, so I am able to use it as part of my therapy. Your dad sounds a lot like my mom...at the age of 83, she still keeps track of every calorie. In fact, she was in the hospital about 6 months ago due to dehydration and malnutrition. So the eating disorder still has a strong hold over her.
It sounds like you are protecting your daughters from your father's sickness...that is SOOO important!
I didn't have the abuse, but I had the anorexic mother telling me I was fat (I just got off the phone with her telling me how fat I was growing up, when in fact I wasn't over weight until I was engaged. So maybe this post is striking a nerve...) You had it FAR worse than I did, and I would say looking at those pictures and considering what you said about the household, it does look like you were hit.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you are in a different place. Healthier, scarred maybe from it all, but stronger too given who you are NOW, who you choose to be.
It's hard to believe that no matter how old we get, it still hurts when our mothers are critical...especially when the criticism is unwarranted. It good that we realize the criticism was and is wrong, so we can move past it.
DeleteGrace, I'm sorry this happened to you. It's pretty obvious from the pictures that your mother was a monster. You're such a sweet, gentle and beautiful woman now, in spite of your childhood. It just shows what great inner strength and intelligence you have to overcome a tragic past. I really do know how beautiful you are, inside and out, since I met you in real life. That was so fun, to meet you and Vanessa. Some day we'll have to get together again. Take care. Love you.
ReplyDeleteHi Diana, it's so funny that now my mother is just this tiny somewhat pathetic helpless person, but while I was growing up she was so "powerful" and could be physically strong enough to do damage like that.
DeleteI would LOVE LOVE LOVE to get together sometime. Love you too!
I just wanted to let you know that my lack of sleep is not to do with abuse ... I have had those issues in my life but I have risen above those, dealt with that pain through therapy. This is a broken heart, I not only lost the man that I loved with all my heart, I lost him as my best friend too. I could tell him anything and not be judged and I did... we did... Now we don't talk and I have been lost... I am working on getting past it.. It is like dealing with a death but almost harder because he's alive and there is no contact. Thank you so much for your comment Grace, it meant a lot to me :)
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