Weighing Heavy

...Hiding in Plain Sight

This is the most honest piece I’ve written publicly. It came to me this morning that I needed to write this piece. Perhaps I feel safe to write it here because I know hardly anyone is reading my words. Perhaps I needed to get the words out in the hope that by setting them free I will in turn set myself free. I hope so.

It’s about my weight you see. A subject that feels in many ways taboo. I know people tiptoe round me when they broach the subject. It used to be the one subject that got me riled. I’ve mellowed a bit & now can actually talk about it but I still do get irritated when people bring it up & make suggestions about what I can do about it.

I haven’t always been overweight…up to about age 12/13 I was ‘normal’ sized. I can trace my weight gain back to age 14. It’s no coincidence it began when I hit puberty and moved home to a different county and started at a new school…without my sister. My childhood was very dysfunctional and I’d seen, heard & experienced things that a young child shouldn’t. For most of my young life we’d lived in a close-knit community space, surrounded by friends & familiarity. But this move tipped me over the edge into isolation & no respite from troubled family life. Loneliness set in, got cosy & stayed.

Food was a big part of my life…always. In the early years it was the lack of it. Both my sister & I don’t recall eating a hot meal as children…we know we must have…but we just don’t remember it. What I do remember is sitting at friend’s houses feeling the shame of almost begging for food. Hoping that someone would take pity on me and offer me something.

Now although I don’t remember food as such I have memories of fizzy drinks & sweets. The gifts my mother left as compensation of sorts for leaving us alone whilst she worked. It’s where my sweet tooth began. I associate sweet things with comfort, pleasure, joy and ultimately with love. They were like a warm hug & a dose of love that I wasn’t receiving anywhere else. I felt deeply lonely and scared throughout my childhood. It is no wonder I sought solace in the warmth of chocolate.

Now I am in my sixties and weight is still a problem. Not least because of the health issues associated with it. I have arthritic knees, that have kindly moved on to my hips & most recently my back is feeling the load. I also have a risk of developing type 2 diabetes. None of these things, including well meaning family, seems to offer the solution you would think….a desire to lose weight. Although technically the desire is there…but it’s the drive to execute it that is missing.

Even my daughter’s imminent wedding does not motivate me to do something about it…as I’d hope it might. I think partly it’s so tied up in trauma it’s hard for me to unpick it. I do think the weight gain initially was about protecting myself, placing a barrier around me to keep me safe. However, I’ve always wanted to simply be seen for myself…not judged by what I look like…but simply for being me. It’s like a stubborn part of me is steadfastly hanging on to that…even though I no longer need to. I’m much further along the line of not needing other people’s approval for validation.

After much healing work…a lot of it through explorations with becoming an artist and my deepening appreciation of the natural world I feel more myself than ever before. And yet I can’t seem to let this one go. In a world that increasingly applauds beauty & thinness my strategy is never going to work. I’m always going to be seen as ‘less than’ by many simply because of my weight.

It really isn’t as simple as the mantra eat less, move more. Trauma stays in your body. There’s lots of scientific evidence to support the fact that people who have experienced significant trauma find it difficult to lose weight. I’ve never been a binge eater and my problem really lies with portion sizes, food choices & that pesky love of chocolate. I understand the problem. I’m very much aware of it. But still…

Perhaps I needed to get these words out in the hope that by setting them free I will in turn set myself free. I hope so.