Read on Twitter
This thread hit me weirdly hard.
When I was this age and younger I was being forced outside by my parents to exercise.
My parents would comment on my eating, and have monthly meetings with me that included them projecting their body issues onto me infused with anger and disgust. https://twitter.com/Hijabbee/status/1279923566327332864
When I was this age and younger I was being forced outside by my parents to exercise.
My parents would comment on my eating, and have monthly meetings with me that included them projecting their body issues onto me infused with anger and disgust. https://twitter.com/Hijabbee/status/1279923566327332864
Despite having SVT (a form of tachycardia). From the ages of 9 to 13 were the worst. I distinctly remember the first time, my mom stopped me before leaving to go to the third grade and made me put a loose shirt on. She said that it was too tight and showed too much.
I would lie to my mom while clothes shopping, constantly. I don't remember what it was like before, I just remember the constant fear of the 'two finger test' of the waistline where my lies would be on display.
At one time, she had to take a pair of jeans back and made me ride with. I am not sure why, but I waited in the car. When she got back, she looked shaken. She looked me dead in the eyes to say "you are never to embarrass me like that again" and I will never forget it. I was 11.
It was merciless and consistent. They would tease me about how much I ate, what I wanted to eat, what movies I liked. My dad would comment on my body. Once he grabbed my leg and showed it to my mom "look at this, it's HUGE... It's like a tree trunk !!!!" I think I was 10.
And this wasn't their only focus. They picked me apart. They explained it that it would make my life easier to change. Be masculine. Be straight. Be skinny. They never realized they were doing more damage than the world could ever do.
To this day they claim to not remember anything. If I try to ask my dad about it, he yells at me and hangs up. Then I hear from my mom that there was no reason to "be bringing that up again" as if it was my responsibility to bear and a crime to ask for closure.
I have been in psychotherapy for about a year and a half. I still can't even grocery shop without extreme anxiety. Eating /exercising in public is so hard. And sobriety comes with a never ending physical sensation of despair for all the time that was stolen from me.
After about a year, my dad suddenly called me telling me I should be finishing up therapy. I asked him what he meant, and he said "you've had 42 appointments. How much more will you need ??"
This was sometime around New year's this year.
The reason this thread continued is because I've been trained to see me being vulnerable, and needing support as a personal flaw and a weight on anyone who hears it. And I'm forcing myself to just put this story out there.
The reason this thread continued is because I've been trained to see me being vulnerable, and needing support as a personal flaw and a weight on anyone who hears it. And I'm forcing myself to just put this story out there.
I'm not okay, I've been not okay for a really long time. But I'm starting to get in touch with wanting to be ok again. I'm starting to feel the smallest bit free from my trauma. I'm starting to take the space I need, and not apologize for it.
