by
S.M. Britt
elementary | high school | university | breakthrough | steps to freedom
The Next Stage: University
My world became more and more out of control. I hated who I was becoming. To an outsider, I may just have gained a few pounds in late high school, but on the inside I was obese. I was repulsive, ugly, unlikable and unworthy of any sort of love. I pretended like everything was fine, that I was happy and confident despite the war raging inside of me. To add frustration to an already weary self-confidence, food never satisfied me. I never felt like I had enough. I was always hungry for more, no matter what my body was telling me.
The route of quick fixes
At the start of university, I already recognized my problem, but assumed it was normal. Yet, I made plans to 'improve' myself. I looked for any 'quick fix' to lose weight and to avoid gaining the freshman 15. I tried avoiding no carbohydrates. I tried avoiding caffeine for a week and promised to run every day of the next week.
But, even when I started to exercise every day, this did nothing to alter my beliefs or my eating habits. The buffet style school cafeteria only worsened my over-eating habits. This time, the weight piled on faster than I thought possible, even with so much exercise.
Inevitably, every quick fix I tried using to solve my low self-esteem only resulted in greater frustration for failing again. When was this going to end? Despite my great group of friends at school, a wonderful boyfriend who loved me and whom I loved, and a healing relationship with my parents, no amount of love seemed to resolve the dissatisfaction hidden inside of me. My world was still overwhelmed by my heart and body addiction.
Journal entry:
"I still go back to the pity, the self-hate, the mutilation of eating of being condemned in my eating. It’s not worth it. I hate myself when I binge. I hate that I run to food.
Food entices, it beckons, it calls to me a failure -- it calls me obese. It calls me someone who can’t control herself, it calls me fat and useless. I feel like a slave to this body, to the desires I have to eat and to make myself fat. My stomach aches inside of me. What am I doing to myself?"
At the end of first year of university, I was taking off for part of the summer to Africa with a club on campus. I assumed that I would come back thin, tanned, and finally rid of my addiction. The opposite happened.
Confined to eating carbohydrates all day, and without any opportunity to exercise in the heat, I was the biggest I had ever been. But, the food selection and heat were not the reasons I still struggled. Blaming other things didn't get me any closer to solving my problems.
Day in and day out I remained suffocated by accusations from myself. The women there were so thin that I constantly berated myself for being so much bigger than them. I couldn't seem to control how much I ate, I couldn't exercise in the heat, and I felt worthless.
One day in particular I was sitting in a field and crying. I was so sick of feeling so ugly. I was so tired of fighting my losing battle. I felt swallowed in a tunnel, a very dark tunnel. This time, there was nothing to influence me, but me. Was I the problem?
I could see no hope and figured I would battle this until the day I died. But, one fear was more dreadful than struggling with this for the rest of my life. I feared that this struggle would influence my relationships or future children. My mother and grandmother both struggled with weight, worry, dieting, and dissatisfaction with how they looked. I didn't want my children to go through the same. I knew things would have to change, even if it meant I had to work through this.
New seeds started to bud in the middle of my despair.
The route of self-discipline
Entering university in the fall, I still didn't know how to deal with this struggle. By this point, I knew this was not normal and that I had to change. So, I tried controlling my diet. Since I was living in a house with 4 other girls and could plan meals, I thought the control over my grocery list would help me battle my lack of self-control.
When I went to work and sat in an office all day, I also thought that by only bringing only small amounts of food with me, I would prevent myself from obsessing and eating too much. But I still thought about food, worried about weight, and even scrounged around for other food that others had left at work or home. I couldn't even control the amount of exercise I received because of a busy school schedule.
All of these irregularities curtailed any self-control and crushed my concept of myself. My world was controlled by food, I had lost control long before. At this point, no amount of will could make me get over my struggle.
Breaking through! >> 1.2.3.4.5
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