Body Positive

{KH} here!

So, my semester is DONE! Yay!

I wrote this post for Be Body Positive Day {August 5} but was a little too scared to share. Today, I don't feel so scared!


 

I know this blog is supposed to be all about "our new style" but today is too important of a day to let pass by without saying something.

Today is Be Body Positive Day.

I have been thinking about this post for a few days now and debating whether or not I should write it. See, I don't love to self-disclose a ton about myself {counselor stuff}. But, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it.

As women {and increasingly men}, we are taught that our bodies aren't 'good enough'. We are either too fat, too flat, too curvy, or just not 'right'. These messages are everywhere- magazines, movies, television, the Internet...you name it. Children younger and younger are being impacted by this {read this horrifying article about 'Tweens with eating disorders}. Part of the reason I don't post as much is because my semester is coming to a close and I have been working on a rather large research project. I have been researching adolescents with co-occuring chemical dependency and eating disorders and designing a specialized treatment track. Here is something I found:

    Parents’ dieting behaviors and negative comments regarding their own bodies are     positively correlated with their children’s elevated feelings of body dissatisfaction. For example, in girls as young as five, the development of awareness and ideas regarding dieting were predicted by their mother’s dieting behaviors.

(Clemency & Rayle 2010)

Five. Five year-olds shouldn't be worrying about  aware of diets. They should be playing with their friends and talking about how they want to be the president. They should be laughing and giggling and dreaming up adventures in far away lands. Not dieting!

Every time I read that quote I just feel emotionally heavy. I have been there. I remember growing up and hearing my mother talk about weight and dieting. Not because she is a bad parent but because she doesn't fit what society tells us is beautiful. But she is beautiful. My mom is so kind and thoughtful. She works hard and did a darn good job raising me.

Yet I was always aware. I hit my growth spurt early on so I was usually taller than everyone  in my class. I was closer in height to my teachers than most of my peers. From early on, I was aware that I was different. I remember an adult neighbor, jokingly, calling me Shaquille O'Neal. It may have been a joke to him but it felt really bad. Big bird was another nickname I seemed to be getting a lot. I became painfully aware of being different.

I was also not the thinnest kid on the block. So not only was I tall, I was "chubby". I wore bigger sizes than all of my friends and looked different. I remember having a birthday sleep over in fourth grade and ordering pizza. I ate a piece and one of my 'friends' called me a 'pig'. I remember putting the piece down and going into the bathroom and crying the rest of the night. That is the first time I remember just hating my body. I felt worthless. Here were all of these cute, short, skinny girls having fun at my house while I, 'the jolly green giant', sat in the bathroom and cried. 

It seemed like no matter what I did, I didn't lose weight. I tried 'eating healthy' {as much as that young of a child can try- I couldn't cook}. I was playing sports. But I wasn't changing. By 6th grade I had resigned myself to being 'the fat kid'.

Junior high rolled around and my body began to change. I was playing more sports and becoming really good at them. I lost a lot of weight between elementary and junior high school. I remember going back to school and receiving so much positive attention for the weight I had lost. A boy probably even had a crush on me! It was intoxicating. 

Flash forward to high school. My athletic career continued as did my success in that realm. I was playing school sports as well as club sports. I made the varsity basketball team and was starting by the end of the year. I had always been a straight A student and that continued. I had more friends. I may have even had 'a boyfriend'. All of these things seemed so drastically different and I thought it was because of my weight. 

I became afraid of letting that go. I was obsessed with not gaining weight. This continued throughout high school. There were days where I would run to school {with my backpack}, go through my day, to school sport practice, to club sport practice, get a ride home, and do homework. I was 'burning the candle at both ends'. I started to lose weight.

By the end of high school I was somewhat 'popular'. I was friends with many different sorts of people. I had been 'in love'. People were talking about how I was pretty. Again, I thought it was because of my weight. Also by the end of high school, I began restricting my food intake. I would go entire, busy, days having only juice for breakfast and a 'salad' {plain lettuce} for lunch. Because I worked out so much I had a lot of muscle and my weight loss wasn't that drastic to people at school. My parents knew something was going on. They made comments about how little I ate at dinner. They were so concerned they said something to my doctor. I remember him saying to me that if I continued to lose weight I would have to 'get help'.

There was no way I was doing that. Perfect people don't 'get help' and being perfect was all I had. 

I started to eat more and slowly regain the weight. I kept obsessively exercising. At night, when my parents were asleep, I would stay up and do exercises in my room. There were days that I was just so tired but I HAD to keep going. I remember being so miserable that I saw a therapist but when she wanted to talk about anything related to body or weight I would shut up. I think I saw her twice.

I went off to college somewhere I hated my first semester. I was in a relationship and, somewhat unbeknownst to me, was being cheated on. I lived an hour away from my friends and family. I was deeply depressed. I wasn't eating. I think I existed on graham crackers and diet coke for about three months. I would eat other things- lettuce, cucumbers, carrots- but only on occasion. I was afraid of everything. Plus, I got mono and strep in my kidneys. I called home crying all of the time and wanted to go home every weekend to see the person I was dating. I told my parents that I wanted to come home but they wanted me to 'stick it out' a year. I knew that something was wrong. I think I was hoping my parents would figure it out and help me because I wasn't helping myself. 

I remember coming home one weekend and my parents being shocked at how thin I had gotten. I looked disgusting. I told them it was because I thought I had mono. My dad didn't believe me. I knew something was wrong; it wasn't like me to sleep all the time. I went to the doctor and, sure enough, I had mono. And strep in my kidneys {who knew that could happen}. See, dad.

I went back to school and finished my semester. I had looked to transferring and applied to a school in the cities. I was accepted and moved in with the person I was dating {even though I knew I was being cheated on}. I decided I wanted to play volleyball and began 'getting in shape'. I was running miles a day. They suggested not drinking soda so I stopped drinking diet coke. All I drank was water. I don't remember what I ate because I was only doing it once a day. Volleyball started and I was shocked because I wasn't as good as I had been. I blamed the mono. My right knee was also an issue. It felt like it was going to explode all of the time. I kept getting hurt. So, I decided to quit. 

Fast forward a few years and I had made a new group of friends. They were smart, funny, and popular. People wanted to be around them. Our group of friends was 'cool'. We were 'hot' {ugh...so gross to think about this now}. We were each also quite unhealthy in our own ways. We went out all the time. We partied a lot. I was getting even more attention and engaging in it every chance I got. I knew I wasn't happy inside but no one knew. I kept it a secret for a long time. I would say that, out of about eight people, three of us definitely had eating disorders and there is one person who, now, I definitely think had one as well. But we didn't talk about it. Just about 'how we would rather be skinny than happy'. 

Wow.

One of those friends got help for her eating disorder. She went to The Emily Program. One weekend she asked me to go to a group with her where each client could bring a support person. It was a moving experience. First, I was so grateful that she invited me. I was so proud of her for getting help. But I was also moved because I could identify with everything the clients said. This was when I knew I had an eating disorder. One would think that I sought help then but...I did not.

I kept it up for a couple of years. It was exhausting. I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown at any moment. I was always scared; never happy. I kept it pretty quiet though I would talk to this friend about it on occasion. I sought validation in many unhealthy ways. I also found out that I had no cartilage in my right knee.

And finally I broke down. I told my friends that I had to move out of the house some of us shared. They were mad at me but, at that point, I just couldn't do it anymore. I moved back in with my parents because it felt 'safe'. My mental health continued to deteriorate. I got so low that I didn't think my life was worth living. I had a few friends die in high school and remembered the pain of those around them. It kept me alive. 

I started to see an individual therapist who I didn't really connect with but thought was helping. So I stopped because...I was better, right?

Wrong. This personal hell continued for a few more months. I met someone who was going through something called DBT. I had no clue what it was so I looked it up. And I saw who it could help. I started to research those conditions more. It was incredible. I wasn't wrong! I wasn't defective! I wasn't crazy! More importantly, I wasn't alone!

I did an intake and started group the next week.

Back to my friends- it was an unhealthy situation. For me, it was toxic. I couldn't do it anymore. While it was hard to leave this group, I was beginning to realize I couldn't get healthy and be in that group of friends. So I left. Some people I tried to communicate my decision to {not very well received} and others I just stopped talking to. I could have handled it better looking back but, at the time, I didn't know how.

Long story short, DBT saved my life. It helped with my depression and anxiety. More importantly, it helped me with my eating disorder. I began to see that life was about so much more than being 'pretty' or 'skinny'. I began to realize that I had goals and dreams which I could achieve. I didn't think anything but misery was possible for quite some time. I found my life worth living!

I made new friends. Ended a relationship which was quite hard on me {we're best friends now...just not good together at the time}. Moved into my own place. Went back to school.

I started to like myself.

It was weird.

And here I am. My life is incredible. I am so grateful to be out of that dark place. Each day I feel really blessed for everything I have because I know what it's like on the other side. I have an incredible group of friends who like me for who I am. I have a great job at The Emily Program. I am almost done with my Master's degree. I get to help people on a daily basis. I love it. And I feel so blessed to be part of their journey. 

Guess what?

I even kind of like my body these days.

Not everyday is sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes I still have those disordered thought. I know I still struggle with my self-perception. But now I have the tools to recognize and deal with them.

So, today, I will be body positive. I will celebrate my body for all that it does for me. It carries my forward on my journey. It allows me to laugh, hug, love, cry, lift objects, and so many other things. More importantly, I will remember my past; but I won't stay there. I will be thankful for all that has happened and let the memories serve as a reminder. 

If you are still reading this, will you join me?

{KH}

p.s. Thanks for reading this. This is the first time I have shared this story with many people. It was cathartic.