Anger and weight
This is going to be really hard for me to write. This is intensely painful and a bit raw, but writing really is the best way for me to deal with all the really intense emotions I am dealing with. Esspecially ANGER.
I recently made a body book. A book where I chart my exercize, food and mood. I thought it would be a good way to keep tabs of what I was doing that is contributing to my obesity. On Tuesday, I let myself go for a day at work. I let myself eat whatever I wanted and charted my mood through out the day. It was awe inspiring to see where my habits are so bad so clearly. So awe inspiring that I descided to do it for one more day. I eat a lot of protein and carbs.:( Then I began to restrict myself to the points alotted to me according to the weightwatchers plan. By the end of the fourth day, I was noticing that I was angry a lot. I looked over the charts for the last four days and something I was not completely aware of became obvious. I eat when I am angry or hurting. I eat the most when I am experiencing intellectual, emotional, or physical pain. I make the worst food choices then too. I sat there and flipped back and forth through the pages,....wondering where this tendency to eat when I am anxious came from, and then it hit me,...like a sack of sharp edged bricks.
When I was 14 years old to 16 years old,...dinner time was the worst part of my day. I did not meet my new step mothers expectations,...and she would let me know this while I was eating. In front of my father,....Who would sit in stony silence before her displeasure, for fear of making her angry at him. She would rail into me,..for hours,..and load my plate with food. Food I had to consume if I ever hoped to escape to the solitude of my room.
On one side of the table was my Father...He would nod and sit there,...looking at his glass of wine, gritting and grinding his teeth. Glancing in my direction, every so often, to visually comunicate his anger and dissapointment. Across from me was my step mother, talking quickly, interjecting cutting remarks and underhaded insults, demanding answers for things i did'nt know how to explain. Trapped,.both staring,..both hating me,...for reasons i could'nt understand.
I could say nothing, do nothing,...but eat. Consuming the food as fast as I could without drawing too much attention, while she said things like.."If I knew what you were like,..i never would have married your father", "There is nothing we can say to you because you are either too stubborn to change or too stupid to understand" ect,....ect,...After a while, the food became my distraction, my point of focus while her words washed over me. There was a wierd sort of pleasure that was punctuated by an atmosphere of animosity.
She would make me finish everything on my plate,...just to keep me there longer. I was trapped even when the plate was clean,...I had to ask permission to leave the table,...but when she got drunk,..I was not always granted that simple pleasure.
I did'nt leave that house for two years.....I didn't leave my room for two years. I remember days when I would try to be as quiet and still as I could while she sat in the doorway of my room,watching me in critical and cold silence, while I drew, or wrote, or read..sometimes she would tell me in intimate detail how much she hated me,..and if it was legal,..she would have shot me a long time ago.
Growing up,..I was never allowed to show my anger. In this house,..i was not allowed to show emotion, because i was always faking it, and she fed off my responses. There was an impenetrable front i had to uphold at home and at school to maintain some sence of sanity. My only escape became the full feeling in my belly, that seemed to be enough for the emptiness I felt at my core. One that was expanded over and over through the hatered of my peers, the avoidance and disgust of my extended family, the abssence of my siblings, and the lack of protection from my only living parent, the father, the protector. To this day I do not understand why i was so hated and avoided growing up,...I didn't do drugs,..I lost my virginity late in life,..I never went to jail, or was expelled from school. I was a smart mouth, but who was'nt when your a teen? I was just a little different,..I was just not like the others. Whatever that means......
So,..I have not been eating like I am used to and now the flood gate is open and all I feel is angry. Without the food, I can't distract myself, I can;t escape,..and the years are rushing back to me. It scares me sometimes because a lot of these angers are so old, they no longer have addresses and they get confused with other things that seem to be unrelated. I have had little outbursts lately. FOr which I immediately feel embarased over, because i know no one in my life deserves dated pain and frustration. So now I am seeking other ways to express them and work with them.
For example, Last night I had dreams that I was in a world where people wore grey and had to be where ever their goverment told them to be. I was in color, and had no interest in following them. I was even training to be a killer, which came up later, and i felt a great rush and relief at being able to hit things as hard as I wanted to. I am feeling brutaly honest right now,..so i would not talk to me casually for a while. My sensitivity toward beeing told that my perspective is wrong is on high alert. I am confrontational right ow, ad need to be given room to be so. I have been holding on to this stuff for so long. I need to let it go,..but it promises to not be pretty.
To increase my sense of security I am feeling the need to draw lines, and I am drawing them. This is encouraging me to look at the ways in which I can start to protect myself because I need to. I really need to. No one has in the past. I feel like the wounded animal people descided to avoid recogizing or took pot shots at to disguse their own uncomfortability or vulnerability. I know this sounds dramatic,..but telling you why this is true would take to long, and whining about the past can be boring. I am just telling you where I am at,...I will remain here till i can descide what needs to be done about it. I am very good a that. those of you who REALLY know me,..knows this to be true.
I recently made a body book. A book where I chart my exercize, food and mood. I thought it would be a good way to keep tabs of what I was doing that is contributing to my obesity. On Tuesday, I let myself go for a day at work. I let myself eat whatever I wanted and charted my mood through out the day. It was awe inspiring to see where my habits are so bad so clearly. So awe inspiring that I descided to do it for one more day. I eat a lot of protein and carbs.:( Then I began to restrict myself to the points alotted to me according to the weightwatchers plan. By the end of the fourth day, I was noticing that I was angry a lot. I looked over the charts for the last four days and something I was not completely aware of became obvious. I eat when I am angry or hurting. I eat the most when I am experiencing intellectual, emotional, or physical pain. I make the worst food choices then too. I sat there and flipped back and forth through the pages,....wondering where this tendency to eat when I am anxious came from, and then it hit me,...like a sack of sharp edged bricks.
When I was 14 years old to 16 years old,...dinner time was the worst part of my day. I did not meet my new step mothers expectations,...and she would let me know this while I was eating. In front of my father,....Who would sit in stony silence before her displeasure, for fear of making her angry at him. She would rail into me,..for hours,..and load my plate with food. Food I had to consume if I ever hoped to escape to the solitude of my room.
On one side of the table was my Father...He would nod and sit there,...looking at his glass of wine, gritting and grinding his teeth. Glancing in my direction, every so often, to visually comunicate his anger and dissapointment. Across from me was my step mother, talking quickly, interjecting cutting remarks and underhaded insults, demanding answers for things i did'nt know how to explain. Trapped,.both staring,..both hating me,...for reasons i could'nt understand.
I could say nothing, do nothing,...but eat. Consuming the food as fast as I could without drawing too much attention, while she said things like.."If I knew what you were like,..i never would have married your father", "There is nothing we can say to you because you are either too stubborn to change or too stupid to understand" ect,....ect,...After a while, the food became my distraction, my point of focus while her words washed over me. There was a wierd sort of pleasure that was punctuated by an atmosphere of animosity.
She would make me finish everything on my plate,...just to keep me there longer. I was trapped even when the plate was clean,...I had to ask permission to leave the table,...but when she got drunk,..I was not always granted that simple pleasure.
I did'nt leave that house for two years.....I didn't leave my room for two years. I remember days when I would try to be as quiet and still as I could while she sat in the doorway of my room,watching me in critical and cold silence, while I drew, or wrote, or read..sometimes she would tell me in intimate detail how much she hated me,..and if it was legal,..she would have shot me a long time ago.
Growing up,..I was never allowed to show my anger. In this house,..i was not allowed to show emotion, because i was always faking it, and she fed off my responses. There was an impenetrable front i had to uphold at home and at school to maintain some sence of sanity. My only escape became the full feeling in my belly, that seemed to be enough for the emptiness I felt at my core. One that was expanded over and over through the hatered of my peers, the avoidance and disgust of my extended family, the abssence of my siblings, and the lack of protection from my only living parent, the father, the protector. To this day I do not understand why i was so hated and avoided growing up,...I didn't do drugs,..I lost my virginity late in life,..I never went to jail, or was expelled from school. I was a smart mouth, but who was'nt when your a teen? I was just a little different,..I was just not like the others. Whatever that means......
So,..I have not been eating like I am used to and now the flood gate is open and all I feel is angry. Without the food, I can't distract myself, I can;t escape,..and the years are rushing back to me. It scares me sometimes because a lot of these angers are so old, they no longer have addresses and they get confused with other things that seem to be unrelated. I have had little outbursts lately. FOr which I immediately feel embarased over, because i know no one in my life deserves dated pain and frustration. So now I am seeking other ways to express them and work with them.
For example, Last night I had dreams that I was in a world where people wore grey and had to be where ever their goverment told them to be. I was in color, and had no interest in following them. I was even training to be a killer, which came up later, and i felt a great rush and relief at being able to hit things as hard as I wanted to. I am feeling brutaly honest right now,..so i would not talk to me casually for a while. My sensitivity toward beeing told that my perspective is wrong is on high alert. I am confrontational right ow, ad need to be given room to be so. I have been holding on to this stuff for so long. I need to let it go,..but it promises to not be pretty.
To increase my sense of security I am feeling the need to draw lines, and I am drawing them. This is encouraging me to look at the ways in which I can start to protect myself because I need to. I really need to. No one has in the past. I feel like the wounded animal people descided to avoid recogizing or took pot shots at to disguse their own uncomfortability or vulnerability. I know this sounds dramatic,..but telling you why this is true would take to long, and whining about the past can be boring. I am just telling you where I am at,...I will remain here till i can descide what needs to be done about it. I am very good a that. those of you who REALLY know me,..knows this to be true.