A couple of years after my son was born I was having really bad headaches. I decided to get a referral to a doctor that specialized in headache medicine. Like all doctors he wanted me to have a series a blood tests. I got a call later the next day asking to come back in that they needed to redraw my blood. A few days later I got a call asking me to come back yet again for another blood test. This time I asked why they needed to draw blood from me again. I was told by the lab tech that I was being tested for Hepatitis. I held my emotions in and as soon as I got to the car I started crying. A million thoughts ran through my head of how I could have contracted or gotten Hepatitis.
I went back to the doctor a couple weeks later and he advised me I did not have hepatitis but that I needed to go see a gastroenterologist. I made the appointment and an ultrasound of my liver showed that I had Non-alcoholic fatty liver disease. All of the fat from the Big Macs and french fries were collecting in my liver and was causing it not to function properly. I was told that I needed to lose weight or I could suffer from serious liver damage. I joined an at work Weight Watchers with my coworkers. I believe this was my first round of Weight Watchers. Well I did not stay with it long and I went back to my old ways. I suffered with negative emotional states and interpersonal conflict. Not to mention my motivation was very low. I loved food and there was no way I was going to give it.
My negative emotional states were affecting my marriage, my work and relationship with friends and family. I was a very unhappy that some times I don't even know why I was unhappy. It seems like I was always having some sort of fight with my husband. I continued to find comfort in my food. We would fight and I would go to the store and sit in my car and eat an entire tube of cookie dough. Eating always was and continued to be my way of coping with negative emotions. I would eat and fall into a more depressed state. This was my battle for several more years.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Where did the struggle start? Part 4
I remember that day that I found out I was pregnant. I had just eaten lunch and became sick at work. I went home and that night took a pregnancy test at my best friend's house and then I took another. Then I came home to another one sitting on the back of the toilet. Apparently, my mother had her "feelings" but I am sure there was some snooping going on.
Being pregnant was great! It gave me the license to eat because I was "eating for two" or so I thought. I feasted on McDonald's Big Macs and ice cream every day. I was gaining so much weight in between doctor visits that the doctor had begun lecturing me. They told that I was gaining too much weight and they advised me to see a nutritionist. Forget that! For that time on I made sure that I never made an appointment with that doctor again.
I did not let the doctor discourage me from my eating. Anamite's mom worked at Mrs. Fields and she would always bring stuff home. There was this one night that I found a bag of peanut butter dream bars. (For those of you doing Weight Watchers is it 35 points for 1 bar.) I ate the entire bag. I remember this day all too well because when she came home she wanted to know what happened to her bars. That was not the first time I heard that question.
That summer Anamite and I were married. I remember buying my dress a week before the wedding and it almost did not fit the day of. I continued to grow bigger and bigger. I got so big that when I went to my doctor's appointments I stopped looking at the scale. I gained around 80-100 lbs during my pregnancy. I remember the scale being around 260-280 lbs by my 9 month. My co-workers kept telling me that they have never seen a person get pregnant from head to toe. But it came with a cost. My legs swelled up and I was having trouble with high blood pressure. That December our son was born. He weighed 10 lbs 2 oz. He was born with a dislocated shoulder and low blood sugar. He is now my junk food junkie. I often wonder if there was a connection between all the junk I ate and his love for junk food.
Now I was a mom and a wife who continued to hate herself.
To Be Continued...
Being pregnant was great! It gave me the license to eat because I was "eating for two" or so I thought. I feasted on McDonald's Big Macs and ice cream every day. I was gaining so much weight in between doctor visits that the doctor had begun lecturing me. They told that I was gaining too much weight and they advised me to see a nutritionist. Forget that! For that time on I made sure that I never made an appointment with that doctor again.
I did not let the doctor discourage me from my eating. Anamite's mom worked at Mrs. Fields and she would always bring stuff home. There was this one night that I found a bag of peanut butter dream bars. (For those of you doing Weight Watchers is it 35 points for 1 bar.) I ate the entire bag. I remember this day all too well because when she came home she wanted to know what happened to her bars. That was not the first time I heard that question.
That summer Anamite and I were married. I remember buying my dress a week before the wedding and it almost did not fit the day of. I continued to grow bigger and bigger. I got so big that when I went to my doctor's appointments I stopped looking at the scale. I gained around 80-100 lbs during my pregnancy. I remember the scale being around 260-280 lbs by my 9 month. My co-workers kept telling me that they have never seen a person get pregnant from head to toe. But it came with a cost. My legs swelled up and I was having trouble with high blood pressure. That December our son was born. He weighed 10 lbs 2 oz. He was born with a dislocated shoulder and low blood sugar. He is now my junk food junkie. I often wonder if there was a connection between all the junk I ate and his love for junk food.
Now I was a mom and a wife who continued to hate herself.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Where did the struggle start? Part 3
Leaving High School was another major transition in my life. I did not keep in touch with very many of my friends. But I did not want to go away to college because the unknown scared me. I ended up taking classes at Joliet Junior College and decided that maybe I could start my life over. Maybe with a different crowd people would judge me less. That summer after taking a mandatory summer class for LD students, I made a new friend. She introduced me to her boss and helped me to get a job at Fashion Bug. I worked hard and eventually moved up to an Assistant Manager type roll. I was trained to close the store and open the store and drop the nightly deposits. It felt good to have such a great responsibility at a young age. I also found I enjoyed having my own money because it gave me freedom to buy what I wanted and to dine out. It was nothing to me to hit the Burger King Drive Thru get a whopper, fries, coke and Hersey pie. Only to get a shake a few hours later when I got off work. Though I was doing somewhat well something was still missing.
So I decided it was time to start dating. Because I had no self-confidence there was no way I would ever approach a guy, so I started talking to people on the internet. During this time I did some insanely crazy things. The song by Waylon Jennings comes to mind Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places. It was during this time that my mom actually showed concerned about me. My life had spun all out of control and I was 19 dating a 35 year old. However, like everything else in my life it did not last long. I again fell into depression that I was unlikeable and would never have anyone to love me.
It was a few short months after that when I met Anamite. I remember that day very well because I had just gotten out of the hospital. It did not take long for me to find out he loved food as much as I did. This was of course was heaven for me. We lived an hour apart so we would take turns staying at each other's house. But I was struggling with my morals, school and life in general. A few months later we were engaged and I dropped out of school and we moved in together. I thought that love was the answer to my void but I was wrong. Our relationship was strained and a lot of my immaturity and insecurities were to blame. How could I love and care for someone else when I didn't even know how to love myself?
A few months later, after a night out with pizza, I woke up at 4 AM with horrible pain. I could not breath and I felt like I was having a heart attack. I arrived at the hospital shortly after 5 AM via ambulance. I was scared. My family was far away, Anamite was at work and I had just been taken to a hospital and I had no clue where. It did not take them long to figure out that I needed to have my gall bladder taken out. Since I was no longer in pain they sent me home and I was to call a surgeon. Because of the hurt that I caused someone very close to me I was left at the hospital for several hours after they told me to go home. I did not know what to do. I was scared, very hurt and again feeling very unloved so I turned to food.
Two months later the wedding was canceled and I moved back home. Because I hated myself so much, I took a lot of my unresolved emotions out on Anamite. Looking back I think that I just treated him the way my mother had always treated me. The first few months of my life after moving home was a nightmare. Most days I sat in my room staring blankly at the wall. Again, I felt that God had failed me again. I felt unloved, alone and that nothing in my life would ever go right. I fell into a bad depression and one day my dad came to me and said he would move all my stuff back to Palatine if it would make me happy again. But I knew that this would not make me happy because I had this big aching hole. This is when I decided that I needed to lose weight because then maybe I could find love. I started taking Fen-Chi a Chinese herbal supplement that helps block fat. This way I could "eat what I want but still lose weight". Now that is my kind of diet!!! I did lose a considerable amount of weight (about 50 lbs). I decided to start dating again. During that time my mission was to hurt as many guys as I could. Why? Well hurting people hurt other people. Right after my 21st birthday, Anamite and I decided to try our relationship again.
That spring I found out we were expecting a baby.
To Be Continued...
So I decided it was time to start dating. Because I had no self-confidence there was no way I would ever approach a guy, so I started talking to people on the internet. During this time I did some insanely crazy things. The song by Waylon Jennings comes to mind Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places. It was during this time that my mom actually showed concerned about me. My life had spun all out of control and I was 19 dating a 35 year old. However, like everything else in my life it did not last long. I again fell into depression that I was unlikeable and would never have anyone to love me.
It was a few short months after that when I met Anamite. I remember that day very well because I had just gotten out of the hospital. It did not take long for me to find out he loved food as much as I did. This was of course was heaven for me. We lived an hour apart so we would take turns staying at each other's house. But I was struggling with my morals, school and life in general. A few months later we were engaged and I dropped out of school and we moved in together. I thought that love was the answer to my void but I was wrong. Our relationship was strained and a lot of my immaturity and insecurities were to blame. How could I love and care for someone else when I didn't even know how to love myself?
A few months later, after a night out with pizza, I woke up at 4 AM with horrible pain. I could not breath and I felt like I was having a heart attack. I arrived at the hospital shortly after 5 AM via ambulance. I was scared. My family was far away, Anamite was at work and I had just been taken to a hospital and I had no clue where. It did not take them long to figure out that I needed to have my gall bladder taken out. Since I was no longer in pain they sent me home and I was to call a surgeon. Because of the hurt that I caused someone very close to me I was left at the hospital for several hours after they told me to go home. I did not know what to do. I was scared, very hurt and again feeling very unloved so I turned to food.
Two months later the wedding was canceled and I moved back home. Because I hated myself so much, I took a lot of my unresolved emotions out on Anamite. Looking back I think that I just treated him the way my mother had always treated me. The first few months of my life after moving home was a nightmare. Most days I sat in my room staring blankly at the wall. Again, I felt that God had failed me again. I felt unloved, alone and that nothing in my life would ever go right. I fell into a bad depression and one day my dad came to me and said he would move all my stuff back to Palatine if it would make me happy again. But I knew that this would not make me happy because I had this big aching hole. This is when I decided that I needed to lose weight because then maybe I could find love. I started taking Fen-Chi a Chinese herbal supplement that helps block fat. This way I could "eat what I want but still lose weight". Now that is my kind of diet!!! I did lose a considerable amount of weight (about 50 lbs). I decided to start dating again. During that time my mission was to hurt as many guys as I could. Why? Well hurting people hurt other people. Right after my 21st birthday, Anamite and I decided to try our relationship again.
That spring I found out we were expecting a baby.
To Be Continued...
Monday, August 9, 2010
Disclaimer
Dear Readers,
Before I continue on I would like everyone to know that this blog series is a collection of my thoughts. Food addiction and eating disorders are a serious matter and should not be taken lightly. Addiction of any kind is a life long battle. That is why I created this blog to help me stay true to myself and give others the opportunity to know that they are not alone.
It has taken me many years to come to terms with a lot of things in my life. Bringing them into the light has helped me to heal. I ask that if you are reading this series to keep an open mind and heart. Nothing in this blog is written with the intention to hurt anybody else. I know that I have hurt many people over the years. I hope that if you are one of them, you can read understand that I was a very hurting person but that no longer reflects who I am today.
Blessings,
Dawn
Before I continue on I would like everyone to know that this blog series is a collection of my thoughts. Food addiction and eating disorders are a serious matter and should not be taken lightly. Addiction of any kind is a life long battle. That is why I created this blog to help me stay true to myself and give others the opportunity to know that they are not alone.
It has taken me many years to come to terms with a lot of things in my life. Bringing them into the light has helped me to heal. I ask that if you are reading this series to keep an open mind and heart. Nothing in this blog is written with the intention to hurt anybody else. I know that I have hurt many people over the years. I hope that if you are one of them, you can read understand that I was a very hurting person but that no longer reflects who I am today.
Blessings,
Dawn
Friday, August 6, 2010
Where did the struggle start? Part 2
Looking back I can't really remember when exactly food became the love in my life. I can remember being about 8 years old and in Cub Foods with my mom. We were in the bakery area of the store and I saw this wonderful looking pastry. I asked my mom if I could have it. She told me no. I remember saying to myself that one day when I was all grown up and on my own I would buy all I could and eat them.
My sister moved out when she was 18. My mom loved to bake and cook. She would spend the day making wonderful bread, cookies and candies. During the holidays she would make fudge and all kinds of creations and store them in the room that once was my sister's. I would sneak in there every time my mom would go outside and take what I could and eat it. Sometimes I would hide them in my room until later. At night when my parent's thought I was in bed I would sneak into the kitchen and see what I could find. Sneaking food became my high. As I got a little older my friend and I would sneak over to the mall. I was not allowed to go to the mall but as long as my parents did not know I was fine. My friend taught me the art of stealing candy. This was even better because then my mom would not question me as to why food was disappearing.
When I was in fifth grade I learned what dieting was. My mother said I was getting too fat and I looked horrible. She decided I needed to go on a diet and drink Slim Fast Shakes. I remember drinking the shake and going to school starving. I would sit at lunch and drool over the fact that other kids got twinkies and SuzyQ's. After school I would head over to a friend's house and hoped that they would offer me some sort of snacks.
When I hit puberty kids started making fun of me. My complexion was horrible. Looking back I am sure what I ate was not helping. Not only was I dealing with the emotions of my morphing body, I was dealing with all the weight I was packing on. The older I got the more I turned to food. It became my comforter. When I was bored, depressed, upset or mad I ate. I was happy as long as I was eating. Little did I know that my binge for sugary sweets was adding fuel to my depression. I hated myself. I hated the way I looked, so I tried not to care. I didn't care about myself or if I was hurting others with my bad behavior. All I cared about is when I was going to eat again. Nothing was filling the void of my hurt and pain, so why not medicate myself with food. At this point in my life God was not an option. I was mad at God for not hearing my prayers as I cried out as a young child and I was mad at God for taking my brother. I did not need God because I had to be in control. I had friends who invited me to youth group and church. I would go but nobody was changing me. In my heart, God did not love me because He allowed all the pain in my life.
I don't remember how high rapidly my weight grew. I do remember I started packing on the pounds after about 2nd grade. I went from a skinny little twig to an overweight 5th grader in no time. I do remember when driver's ed rolled around. The teacher asked us for our height and weight for our learner's permit application and of course I lied. I remember telling the teacher I weighed 190 when I really weight 210. I maintained that weight around 210-220 for most of high school.
To Be Continued...
My sister moved out when she was 18. My mom loved to bake and cook. She would spend the day making wonderful bread, cookies and candies. During the holidays she would make fudge and all kinds of creations and store them in the room that once was my sister's. I would sneak in there every time my mom would go outside and take what I could and eat it. Sometimes I would hide them in my room until later. At night when my parent's thought I was in bed I would sneak into the kitchen and see what I could find. Sneaking food became my high. As I got a little older my friend and I would sneak over to the mall. I was not allowed to go to the mall but as long as my parents did not know I was fine. My friend taught me the art of stealing candy. This was even better because then my mom would not question me as to why food was disappearing.
When I was in fifth grade I learned what dieting was. My mother said I was getting too fat and I looked horrible. She decided I needed to go on a diet and drink Slim Fast Shakes. I remember drinking the shake and going to school starving. I would sit at lunch and drool over the fact that other kids got twinkies and SuzyQ's. After school I would head over to a friend's house and hoped that they would offer me some sort of snacks.
When I hit puberty kids started making fun of me. My complexion was horrible. Looking back I am sure what I ate was not helping. Not only was I dealing with the emotions of my morphing body, I was dealing with all the weight I was packing on. The older I got the more I turned to food. It became my comforter. When I was bored, depressed, upset or mad I ate. I was happy as long as I was eating. Little did I know that my binge for sugary sweets was adding fuel to my depression. I hated myself. I hated the way I looked, so I tried not to care. I didn't care about myself or if I was hurting others with my bad behavior. All I cared about is when I was going to eat again. Nothing was filling the void of my hurt and pain, so why not medicate myself with food. At this point in my life God was not an option. I was mad at God for not hearing my prayers as I cried out as a young child and I was mad at God for taking my brother. I did not need God because I had to be in control. I had friends who invited me to youth group and church. I would go but nobody was changing me. In my heart, God did not love me because He allowed all the pain in my life.
I don't remember how high rapidly my weight grew. I do remember I started packing on the pounds after about 2nd grade. I went from a skinny little twig to an overweight 5th grader in no time. I do remember when driver's ed rolled around. The teacher asked us for our height and weight for our learner's permit application and of course I lied. I remember telling the teacher I weighed 190 when I really weight 210. I maintained that weight around 210-220 for most of high school.
To Be Continued...
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Where did the struggle start? Part 1
As a child most people thought that I was happy. In my year books my teachers and friends would write "Dawn your smile is contagious", "Your smile lights up a room", "Keep smiling". But what they did not know my smile was a cover up. It was my way of hiding what my insides were feeling. I hated myself. I felt that I did not fit in anywhere and I still struggle with this feeling today. My heart had this big hole that ached and I felt that every one who was close to me would hurt me. To avoid being hurt, I tried not to love because if I did not love then I could not be hurt.
By the time I got to high school my life got worse. I hung around the stoners because people did not mess with them. Though at this time I was going to church, I was living a double life. My afternoons were spent driving around with my friends in a back of a funeral hurst while they were getting high. I did not want to get high with them because I needed to be in control. I did not like feeling all dizzy and out of it and if I was aware of what was going on then I was in control. The on Sundays I went to church. It was the right thing to do. Church to me was nothing more than the place people went on Sunday's and I got to sing in the choir.
One of my stoner friends Heather and I took art classes together. We had known each other since grade school. The older she got the stranger she got and people did not mess with her. I liked that. It was Heather who introduced me to cutting. What a wonderful way for me to express the pain and hurt I was feeling. It was my outlet and cry for help. Heather was known to carve Anarchy symbols on her arms and I followed suit. Not only would I bare my scratches and cuts but burns as well. In 1995, when my brother died, I lost but was hurt by another person I loved so much. I remember sitting in class one day and before I knew it I had burned the top of my hand with a pencil erasers. I sat there rubbing it up and down my hand until the skin was gone and I was bleeding and then did the same on the other one. Looking back I thank God that I don't bare the scars of my stupidity.
However, my cries still remained unheard. I had already been seeing the social worker. In fact, I started seeing the school social worker when I was in first grade. They never seem to do anything to help me so I decided only to share what I felt like sharing. I figured they would not believe me anyway. When I reached high school I was put in peer groups with girls who lived in group homes. I felt that I had nothing to bring to the group but my social worker felt that I could get the girls to share more. My mentality was whatever it gets me out of class. It only added to my dysfunction.
To be continued....
By the time I got to high school my life got worse. I hung around the stoners because people did not mess with them. Though at this time I was going to church, I was living a double life. My afternoons were spent driving around with my friends in a back of a funeral hurst while they were getting high. I did not want to get high with them because I needed to be in control. I did not like feeling all dizzy and out of it and if I was aware of what was going on then I was in control. The on Sundays I went to church. It was the right thing to do. Church to me was nothing more than the place people went on Sunday's and I got to sing in the choir.
One of my stoner friends Heather and I took art classes together. We had known each other since grade school. The older she got the stranger she got and people did not mess with her. I liked that. It was Heather who introduced me to cutting. What a wonderful way for me to express the pain and hurt I was feeling. It was my outlet and cry for help. Heather was known to carve Anarchy symbols on her arms and I followed suit. Not only would I bare my scratches and cuts but burns as well. In 1995, when my brother died, I lost but was hurt by another person I loved so much. I remember sitting in class one day and before I knew it I had burned the top of my hand with a pencil erasers. I sat there rubbing it up and down my hand until the skin was gone and I was bleeding and then did the same on the other one. Looking back I thank God that I don't bare the scars of my stupidity.
However, my cries still remained unheard. I had already been seeing the social worker. In fact, I started seeing the school social worker when I was in first grade. They never seem to do anything to help me so I decided only to share what I felt like sharing. I figured they would not believe me anyway. When I reached high school I was put in peer groups with girls who lived in group homes. I felt that I had nothing to bring to the group but my social worker felt that I could get the girls to share more. My mentality was whatever it gets me out of class. It only added to my dysfunction.
To be continued....
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Repentance
Repentance itself is the healing power of the soul. It is important to the healing process because one asks God to open their eyes to see him or herself as they really are. This allows them to be able to identify behavior and attitudes that the Scriptures define as sinful. Turning to God in prayer will give one the power to turn away from those sinful ways and replace them with the behavior that God has intended for His people.
Now you might be wondering why I posted this. Well...I had to write this for homework but it was also is a reminder to me and my recent challenge. I am slowly learning that I do not need to hide things and I realize that I tend to do this more than I can say. Last week, I was really struggling with my food addiction. Yes, I have a very lustful food addiction that goes far beyond food cravings. I found myself spinning out of control and as much as I tried to put on the brake I couldn't. I had to turn to a couple of good friends and share with them what was going on because I knew I needed more prayer than I could give myself. I knew that I needed to stop before I undid a year and half of hard work. If anyone has suffer from addiction, I feel your pain. It was so hard to admit my problem. Especially, when I have many people who tell me I am their inspiration. How can I be an inspiration? I struggle each and every day and try to make the right choices. Well we all have our sinful problems whether is it drugs, alcohol, food, lying...the list goes on. But God has the power to free us from them all we have to do is ask. As my friend said to me "those old tapes playing in your head have no bearing on your life now." She is right! Because it was nailed on the cross!!! I am happy to report that I have been back on plan for 5 days.
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