This is a post that I don’t even want to write, because I don’t really want to admit it to everyone..to myself.
In December 2008, I began a journey of a full-blown issue with food. After being dumped three days before Christmas by a man of whom I had lost weight for, I was miserable. I had just come off of two separate hospitalisations and what I’d classify as ‘rebound’ eating while on vacation.
2009 was awful. I binged. I binged all the weight back I had lost with my ex and before I met him. I lost my soul. I lost who I was. I tried everything. Working out, diets, becoming a Christian, blogging, the Exposed Movement, going to East Timor.
I have been seeing a fabulous counsellor for the past two years, because I needed it. Because I needed to admit the darkest, most awful secrets that were held in my heart. The ones that you’d never wish upon other people, the things that you’d never say to your worst enemy, but you play like a broken record in your mind.
I remember when I met Andrew, how scared I was of what he’d think about me. I tried to ‘be good’ for him, by dieting. Losing weight, to binge it back at times because if felt wrong in my heart, but I almost felt like it was my duty. Because that’s the woman I was with the ex. It’s the only way I knew how to find value in a relationship.
The thing that I admitted to myself today was that Lance, the ex, has still had control over who I am with food, dieting, body image. Nothing as strong as it was…but there was the residual hangover of THREE YEARS AGO! It wasn’t his voice, his demands, his looks, his questions. It was more of the mental state of where I was with myself, food, exercise, eating, drive..when I was with him. The moments when I’m going between loving/hating, dieting/binging…is the girl who was suffering in that relationship…and she was still present in the most loving/caring relationship I have with Andrew right now.
After thinking about everything today, I put the spoon down from the PB jar into the sink and knew in my heart that not another day was going to be about the Michelle trapped in the hangover of a man in the past, the feeling, the person I was in that moment in time.
I’m not upset. I’m glad. I’m glad I’m not wasting another moment suffocated in that misery. A misery that I held onto for too long, because I was too afraid of what I might actually be..someone fabulous.