janpmck
My earliest recollection of the shame associated with my appetite occurred when I was about 5 yrs old and continues to this day. I have learned to hate my own body because of a physiologic need for food to sustain itself. When I feel a pang of hunger, I imagine myself in a boxing ring. I'm in one corner and across from me is the biggest opponent I have ever faced, It is nameless, it is faceless and it scares the crap out of me. What it really is, is my appetite and my fear stems from my inability to control it. I feel if I give in and actually eat, my appetite will consume me(notice the irony). And you know what, it has. So I live with a pervasive sense of worthlessness, shame and guilt. I wear it like a shroud and it has tainted all of my relationships. I was taught early in life that my desire to eat was bad and every time I did, I needed to be punished. So who punished me? I did, I did things to hurt myself. I was promiscuous, I did drugs and alcohol, I married two men who abused me physically and emotionally and I ate, and ate, and ate. Along the way, I managed to pick-up a college degree in nursing and four beautiful children, all I might add who have their own issues with food. Not the legacy I wanted to leave, but if they see their mother deal with it, it may inspire them to as well. So here we are, in 2008. Today, I made the call I had been wanting to make for 18 years. This is day 1 of my journey to freedom. I hope everyone out there will support me and send me the encouragement I so desperately need.
