I was my own worst enemy
When I eventually and finally reflected on my life as an overweight child, I became aware of the how much pain and sadness had consumed it. My struggle with food was a constant one I carried with me everywhere I went. The fact that I was overweight in a society which puts so much negative influence on weight wasn’t just a physical characteristic to me. It defined the person who I became in every area. Being fat became so much more than how I looked—it was the one characteristic I gauged my entire self worth on.
I was my own worst enemy, subjecting myself to a continuous barrage of negative self talk, demeaning myself, my appearance, and my social life. The truth be told, I had convinced myself that I had no redeeming qualities. My inner voiced convinced me that I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough. Not only did I view myself as fat and ugly, but I also managed to convince myself that I was a total failure. In my mind, I couldn’t do anything, or better stated, I couldn’t do anything right. I lived with the belief that no one loved me, even my parents. I’d somehow managed to believe that if I did something wrong, my parents would actually abandon me. Above all, I distanced myself from others by telling myself I wasn’t like other girls. In my mind, nobody liked me at home or at school.
The majority of my days were spent struggling with a modicum of self worth, which I’d disregard when I got back home where I could safely return to being my own worst enemy. The first thing I’d do when I walked in the door was choose my weapon—FOOD. Food made me feel better. I ate because I felt bad or hurt. I ate when I was sad or bored. I ate when I was depressed, and I ate when I was lonely. When I had something to eat, I had a companion. I ate for all those reasons and more. Food was the answer to everything that ailed me, and it was my reward whenever I was content or happy. It satisfied all of my emotional needs—but that satisfaction was short term. After I was finished stuffing my feelings with food, I immediately went to a place where I’d become all too familiar, a place of regret, discomfort, guilt, and, yes, even shame for what I’d eaten. Now, you can imagine the lengths I went to in order to remain in a continual state of feeling terrible about myself.
Looking back on it, if there was joy in my life, I rarely allowed myself to relish in it. I punished myself by habitually reinforcing the fact that I wasn’t worthy of being happy. This was a trait I took with me throughout my childhood and into my adult years. I knew that being fat sucked, but it was the only life I knew. Somehow, I convinced myself that it was the only life I would ever know.
Tags: abandon, Being fat sucks, consumed, demeaning, depressed, Diet, distanced, failure, food, lonely, lose weight, modicum of self worth, negative self talk, overweight child, pain, regret, sadness, struggle