With First Introductions done, and I know it didn't delve in too, too deep, we are all forced when reflecting on where we are now, to know where it is we came from and under what influence.
I grew up in small(er) town Ontario. Lived in a big A garden that was gi-normous, bussed into school, spent most of my time outdoors and had a very small group of kids in my area that I could visit on foot. My childhood was pretty awesome - at least as memory serves me. Bon fires, snow forts, Easter egg hunts, using our imagination and never seeming to care about anything was life.
My parents divorced when I was four and my mom and I moved in with my would-be step dad with what felt like no time in between. I have an older brother, four years my senior, who would live with my dad after the breakup. I own no memories before this time in my life - but I guess... does any one? I have a younger sister of 6 and a half years from my mom and step dad whom no one would come to know as my half-sister. We behaved, fought and made up as siblings do.
No before you move on, please dismiss any sympathetic thoughts you may be experiencing about this poor, future obese girl came from a broken home - because while my situation may seem that way under the definition, my family was pretty normal. I don't blame any of my adult challenges with where I was when I was five! What I account for from my childhood, is who I became. My character, my values, my belief systems. This foundation would become who I am today - the product of my decisions and my feelings is where my circumstances brought my physical and mental health - not because my parents separated.
I was a smart kid. I excelled in school, was one of those leaders in the class that seem somewhat annoying now when you meet them in your child's classroom; but overall, dependable, reliable, eager to help and learn and a go-getter.
By the time I was eight, something changed. While I am not prepared to share this in any sort of public forum, a traumatic event happened in my life and that is when food became comfort and feelings became buried. This may be a story you have heard a million times, but frankly, most of our stories are very similar. Those who embark on changing what they thought was the scripted course of their life, to only realize there are alternatives! So, you may choose to read on, or choose to stop. Quite frankly, the new me doesn't really care what you do; I just know I will keep writing.
Trauma is a very sad, scary and complex thing. The word “trauma” is used to describe experiences or situations that are emotionally painful and distressing, and that overwhelm people’s ability to cope, leaving them powerless (http://www.nonviolenceandsocialjustice.org). When trauma happens, especially to a child who already feel powerless, the magnitude of impact can be great. Did I know this at the time? Sure the hell not. Did I know this 20 years later - maybe a bit. How do I know this now almost 30 years after the fact - because I am finally talking about it. There was 25 years of my life that I didn't know if that event was real or a dream - do you know how that can fuck you up? Pretty bad. So, without having anyone willing to talk about the truth, I need to trust my 8-year self and start playing back what happened to find my power again. That is a monumental task and one that I may never check off my list, but I feel a hell of a lot better knowing it's at least on that list.
So, I quickly learned to bury; my feelings were pushed deep down! That summer I spent some time away at a family member's house - when returning home, I have been told (to this day, mind you!), it looked as though someone had put an air pump in my mouth and blew me up. Now to anyone, this isn't very encouraging; to a kid, not very supportive and to an adult making endless attempts at losing weight and understanding the root of the issue, a very, very easy scapegoat for why I was overweight. It was my caregiver's fault, that's who did this to me! No one in my support circle ever took notice that maybe it was something that had happened or was happening to me at the time. Blaming fault is a very, very easy scapegoat!
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