bulimia

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It’s Not Really About the Food

Last night I argued with my child over food. He didn’t talk to me the rest of the night, and I went to bed early without talking to anyone. I hated myself.

I was a chubby kid. I remember my first food binge. It was ice cream and no one was home. I was seven years old.

I became a morbidly obese teenager. I ate my feelings every fucking night.

In college, I lost some weight. I discovered walking and weight lifting. I was back to chubby. By my junior year, I was a Creative Writing major and I poured all of my childhood trauma and anger into stories and poetry. Did I still eat my feelings? Oh yeah, but not to the same extent.

Just after graduating from college, though, I became bulimic. Interestingly enough, my first puking session was ice cream. I ending up losing another 30 pounds or so. My dad was worried about me. I remember how he came to the video store I was working at and he was so worried I’d die from losing so much weight. This was not going to happen. I still ate a lot and just puked enough to maintain the initial weight loss. But I know it wasn’t as simple as that. I was fucked up and Dad was worried.

I went off to graduate school, still throwing up, just not as often. Then my teeth started to hurt and I had to go to the dentist at the age of 23. I hadn’t gone since I was four years old. We didn’t have the money to go when we were kids and the one time we did go, I apparently had a horrible experience. I have no memory of it, but I broke down in tears when I had to see this dentist while I was in grad school. He’s the one who told me I had a bad experience. He had seen this before. He was kindest, gentlest man and dentist. He pulled a tooth and was good to me. I stopped throwing up on purpose that day. I was too freaked to lose my teeth.

And now? I continue to struggle with my relationship with food and my weight. It sometimes comes up in therapy. Some days I just don’t care about any of it because life is too exhausting on other levels.

But now my son has gained a lot of weight. I don’t know what to do.

My beautiful boy has been on antidepressants for several years now. I think it has saved his life and I’m so, so grateful for our beloved Dr. Lauer for getting him on the right path. Unfortunately, those meds often cause weight gain. For my boy, his hunger was insatiable. Being a growing boy, his hunger could be pretty intense as it was, but this? This was bananas. Along with that, though, was his love of gaming and hatred of exercise. When you combine it all, it leads to weight gain.

I’ve worried about his physical health, although with a battery of tests he needed to do this past week, he seems to be good–except his weight is in the morbidly obese category. Just like his mom’s was at the same exact age.

Last night, we ended up fighting about a pizza, which was really a misunderstanding. But none of that was super clear last night, and I was too in my head to fix it. So this morning, I got up before 7 because my body wouldn’t let me sleep. I had coffee and just felt too unsettled to relax and read. So I started cooking. Not eating. Just cooking. I made healthy breakfast cookies, yeast rolls and sweet potato black bean chili. I listened to an audiobook while mixing and chopping and doing dishes. I felt calm but determined. I needed to fix this.

Being a 17-year-old kid, my son didn’t awake until nearly 11. I had been up for over 4 hours by then. I had a little plate with breakfast cookies on it, waiting for him, and I poured him a glass of milk. He was so happy by the cookies–it’s something I used to make a lot when he was little. I apologized to him and said we needed to talk about it. I started to cry and told him I never want him to have the fucked up relationship with food or his body that I do. I just want him to be ok and healthy and live a long, beautiful life. He hugged me and we talked about what happened. He doesn’t have a bad self-image in the least. That makes me incredibly happy. He does eat his feelings sometimes, but doesn’t seem to have that toxic relationship with food that I do.

Do I want him to lose weight? Yes. That’s an emphatic yes. I know you can be healthy and be large. But when you’re already 6’8″, you don’t fit in a lot of clothes or cars or anywhere. Being heavier increases those challenges. He’s already a broke, queer giant on antidepressants. He doesn’t need anymore challenges.

If he doesn’t lose any weight? Oh well. I’ll get over it. If my kid is healthy and happy and can find clothes that fit, then I’m happy, too.

My son is aware of my various eating disorders and he’s seen photos of me as a teen. Before, he only knew the mom who runs and eats well (most of the time). He didn’t know the person I was before and really still am. Once I showed him the photos, he understood a bit more. Today he is more aware of why his weight gain has triggered this manic urge to fill the house with salads and fruit and severely limit any kind of “junk” or processed foods. And it’s because I told him. I was honest with him.

I don’t know how long I can keep up the good meals and stores of fruit and vegetables in the house. No matter what anyone says, eating well can be expensive. But I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter right now. If I have to charge a load of groceries on my credit card, I’ll do it. (Ok, I already did.) The good meals will be harder since that shit takes time and energy that I don’t seem to have lately. But I’ll try. And I’ll get the kid to help and the husband to help when he’s able.

We’re gonna do this, damn it. This kid will be a part of changing this country for the better. I completely believe that. So I’m going to shove my own eating issues down deep and just try to feed my kid in the healthiest way I can. In this case, food really is fuel. I’m gonna fuel my boy up so he can help govern this country in the near future. He’ll be part of the generation that shows the world that we really are a country of people with differing beliefs and genders and colors and wants and needs, but we will help one another RISE UP, not be pushed down.

I’m off to meal plan for the week. It kinda feels like the beginning of a revolution. ❤

Stay well, friends.

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So Many Words

They say actions speak louder than words. I suppose that’s true in most situations, but what if words are all you have? What if what you say and how you say it is the only action you can take?

We’ve had lots of discussions in our household lately about words and phrases you’re allowed to use at home but not at school or at work or even around friends. My son got in trouble at school for using words like “freakin'” and “bullcrap” because they were too much like actual swear words. We had a chat about it and I reassured him that he was not in trouble at home but would need to use other words at school. The very next day he used “freakin'” again and although he apologized and is trying to change, he was sent to the principal’s office and I got a phone call.

You may be thinking, “Well, of course he got in trouble. Kids should not be using those types of words!” And you’re right, sort of. I don’t think kids should use those words in school, just like I can’t swear at work (except in the back room where my boss lets me spout off at whatever is ailing me). There is an appropriate time for certain types of language. I try not to use the phrase, “Oh my god!” around some of my friends. I think it offends them and I have no desire to do that. I feel like being sensitive to what others may feel when you use particular words is a part of growing and evolving. I’m still trying to teach my 9-year-old some of that sensitivity but I think he’ll  learn it. It can take time and many mistakes, but it’s doable.

At home, though, I think you should say what you feel. When I get angry or frustrated, I will use words that can make your ears burst into flames. Sometimes I’m muttering and other times I’m yelling. But as a person who ate all of her anger since the age of 7, I like to get all of my anger out before it becomes rage and consumes me. I can run out my frustration at times, but words are typically what purges my body of all the anger or hatred I may have. (And after being bulimic for a time, let me tell you that this type of purging is much more satisfying and so, so much better for me!)

After receiving the second phone call about my boy’s language and feeling scolded for allowing him to use certain words at home, I thought it was time to use my own words to express how I felt. I couldn’t do it over the phone because I knew I’d get upset and say things I shouldn’t. So I sent an email to both the teacher and principal, thanking them for alerting me of my son’s use of language. But I also explained that he is allowed to use those words at home because I don’t want him to eat his anger or punch the wall in frustration or hit someone because they ticked him off. I don’t want him to say nothing and push his feelings deep down until a little nuisance becomes fury. Using words is what we’re taught to do, right? In school, we’re taught to express how we feel by what we say, *not* what we do. And that’s exactly what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t use those words at school and he’s trying not to, but it will take time. (I suggested to my son that he use the word “fishcakes” like my 85-year-old colleague from the Blue Hill Library used to use. She used “fuck” when no one else was around. My boy has decided to try the word “flipping” instead, because a girl in his class uses it and she doesn’t get in trouble. I think this might end up being an experiment in gender studies.)

In my email, I also explained that in our home, we really do love words. We compliment each other if we use a good word or phrase. For instance, instead of saying, “That’s not what I was talking about,” my boy says, “No, Mom, that’s not what I was referring to.” AWESOME! Or we talk about words that we enjoy saying because of how it feels in our mouths, like “Mozambique” or “planetarium” or “hullabaloo.” Maybe instead of using boring words like “freakin'”, I can teach my boy to use Shakespearean phrases like, “Thou art like a toad!” or maybe “Your brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage!” Well, he might not be able to remember that one.  We’ve been trying out other words like “wretched” or “crikey” or “dang nab it.” Something funny or clever that won’t get him into trouble.

shakespearecat

As we continue to discuss the power of words, do you ever find yourself having difficulty in saying certain words that should be simple to say like “I’m sorry” or “I love you” or even just “No”?  I know I do. Currently I have a tough time saying “My mother has Alzheimer’s Disease.”  I can say she has dementia just fine, but something about the word “Alzheimer’s” makes me stutter. The word gets caught in my throat. I think it brings so many depressing images to mind that it’s hard to spit it out. Or it feels like admitting defeat.

However, saying “I love you” to those that I do love or “Thank you” to those that have helped me or been a good friend to me, brings me joy and makes me feel all warm and squishy inside….

…as does saying “fluffernutter.” Seriously. It’s a great word, isn’t it? It uses your tongue and teeth and lips and it’s delicious! Oh and “delicious!” I love that word, too.

What about you? What words bring you joy or make your blood boil?

Let’s have an orgy of words!