My First Trip Into Addiction

Last week, I was reading a Facebook post.

It was written by an associate of mine.

She is on a health-journey: nutrition, exercise, doctor's visits, etc.

She posts everyday about her journey.

Really vulnerable photos.

Really vulnerable words.

Very real and raw and so admirable!

She had posted some pictures of other women that she keeps on her mirror.

She calls the pictures her motivation. 

However, she is very clear about the fact that each of our bodies is different and that she, nor any of us, will ever look just like someone else.

The comments were, unfortunately, not shocking.

All from women.

"That girl is too skinny. You don't want to look like her."
"That girl looks like a man with those muscles. Don't try to look like that!"

"That girl needs to lose some more inches. You're better than that."

It took me back to my first memories of addiction.

I had an eating disorder.

I was addicted to making my body look a certain way in order to be validated.

Remember, my addiction is to validation.

Growing up, I was told countless times that I needed to lose weight.

I needed to be smaller so the boys would like me.

I needed to eat less.

I needed to shrink so I could fit into the cute clothes at the expensive department stores.

I began restricting my food intake in high school... and then I got out of control with it.

I gained 70 pounds each of my four pregnancies, which were each year for four years.

Then, I stopped eating.

When I ate, I would purge.

I then felt that I had control over whether or not I would be validated.

I was firm on the fact that no one would ever talk about me being heavy again.

And, they didn't.

But now...

NOW, they talked about me being too thin.

They talked about me being too bony and unattractive.

They talked about me needing to eat more.

They talked about me needing to be healthy.

Which is it, People?!

Do you want me fat or do you want me skinny??

Eventually, in 2010, I was admitted into a psych ward.

I was diagnosed with Anorexia.

I weighed 103 pounds.

My mast cells were eating each other.

This is probably where my current heart issues come from, but we can't be sure.

I was not discharged until I weighed 120.

I have stuck to that weight since, plus or minus five pounds now and then. (ice cream)

Those same people STILL talk about my weight, my body, my looks...

Like it matters.

I go right on living my life...

Finally.

Let me make something very clear, Ladies AND Gentleman (by the way, men have eating disorders in large numbers)...

If you don't like the way someone looks, don't look at them.

Okay?

Don't look at me!!

If my waist is too small and my boobs are too small and my hips and butt are too big, look the other damn way!

I am finally healthy with my body image.

Cellulite and all.

42 years and finally, I'm okay with my body.

I don't care if you're not.

So, keep it to your damn self.

How many times do we stop and think, "Maybe I should not have an opinion about someone else's looks... Maybe that's not my role... Maybe that takes up time and effort that I can put toward something else..."

When we say things to people, it sticks.

We have no idea how vulnerable they are.

Instead of saying, "Your weight is perfect. Your butt is perfect. Your boobs are perfect. You are the perfect shape, the perfect height, the perfect whatever..."

Say, "You bring me so much joy. You are beautiful. Your smile lights up a room. Thank you for showing up for me. Thank you for rooting for the rise of others. Thank you for your vulnerability, your confidence, your courage."

Because maybe, you are dealing with someone who has a tendency toward addiction.

Maybe you are dealing with someone who has Depression.

Maybe you are dealing with someone who is really broken at that moment.

Golden rule!

Go and love someone exactly as they are!