Conquering the demons of weight gain and body issues: one day at a time

Many times, when I sit down to write, I have no idea what is going to come out on the page. It's almost always not what I would expect. Today, I felt the need to write, and I have NO expectations at all. After getting grounded, and taking a few deep breaths, I just sat down and started tapping the keys. 

Growing up, I was the only girl in a family with three older brothers. My mother had her own body image issues, and used to tell me how fat she was all the time. As I became a young woman and my body filled out, normally, my brothers teased me for getting "fat," and my mother's words haunted me in the back of my mind. My thighs looked bigger than all the other girls and I would lament this daily. My hair was straight and blonde, unlike most of my friends, and I was painfully "different." At a time in my life where I was most vulnerable and suceptible to suggestion, I was blasted with invalidation and criticism. Of course, this soon became a full blown eating disorder, and so began my adult life as a woman who was never happy with her weight, hair, skin, etc. I missed so many years where I was beautiful and strong, and healthy, as I look back on photos where I coulod just SEE the unhappiness oozing out of me. I developed a drinking habit, and became "the party girl" in an attempt to numb out of the self hatred. Once again, my family criticized me for this, and constantly told me how much of a bad girl I was. If I were to believe them, I was a horrible person, fat and ugly beyond repair. Yet, ironically enough, I was still attractive enough to be molested multiple times. This became the only form of validation I received, and so, I sought it out. Sex was the only thing that made me feel validated, and the message came back that I was good at it, so I kept doing it. I could ALWAYS get some guy in the sack, and it became who I was for many years. 

Pretty typical of me during that time period. Ironically, I was thin here, but desperately unhappy. 

When I got married, the train slowed down, because I really wanted a family and a chance at a normal life. I went to therapy for many years, and joined an incest survivors group, which helped me to start to process the agony that was the mixed message I grew up with.  I was able to find forgiveness for those who had wronged me, and I desperately wanted to find my happiness, apart from the pain that had defined me for the better part of a decade. I became a mother, and was able to set aside my eating disordered behavior and produce two very healthy and normal children. 

As my children have grown into young men, my younger son is now 13, the age where everything began to fall apart for me. His body is changing and he laments the little belly that he has. It brings up all my own pain at that age, and I am traversing this road right along with him. His father (we are now divorced) tells him he is "getting a little pudgy," and this makes me want to scream. We all have our insecurities abiout our bodies, but that does not mean that we have to pass them along to our children. What if, instead of freaking out when our adolescent child begins to thicken and grow normally, we just encourage them to eat healthy, wear the correct size clothing, and practice daily activity? Or, better yet, what if we model this for them? There is no need to pass along your eating disorder or your self hatred. And, while you are at it, stop with your own negative self talk, espcially in front of your children.  We are literally creating the epidemic of obesity by modeling our dysfunctional body relationship to the younger generation. 

I maintain a healthy lifestyle with daily walks and juicing. It feels good! 

As soon as this all crystallized for me, after speaking with a client who was struggling with the same issues, I decided it is time for me to start loving myself. No more negative self talk, even if it is subconscious or silent. Every day, I start the day by looking in the mirror, and saying, "I love you." I touch all the parts of me that I have hated, and tell them "I love you." The first few times, I cried. It was probably the first time I had ever really given love to myself that way. My body has given me so much joy, and so much pain, but which should I focus on? I can not thrive in pain, I can only create in joy.