It’s been a while since my last post and I know why. Well, there are at least two reasons: #1: I relapsed and I am embarrassed and #2: I feel like I keep repeating myself and not changing. So, in an attempt to make a change, I’m writing even though I feel like a failure. I’m taking that single step on this journey of (at least) a thousand miles. Again.
I feel like a (cliched) broken record. I’ve been here before, I’ve said this before, I’ve felt this before. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t know why people even read anymore. I’ve lost any credibility I may have had. I’m still overweight. I’m still anxious. And even though I proclaim to be “done,” here I am. Despite these negative thoughts, I continue to write. I continue to try to work through the trauma, the emotions, the food binges, the obsessive and overwhelming thoughts. Why? Because I’m not ready to give up. Because my life is not over. Because I’m not “done.”
I know how this works now. I know that I developed anxiety disorders as a distraction, because, despite my initial resistance to my therapist’s claims about this, it is easier to deal with the anxiety than it is to deal with the real stuff that is surfacing. I used to get so angry with my therapist when she would say that. “It’s not easy dealing with anxiety. Do you think I want to feel this way? How can you say I am choosing the anxiety?” Obviously, I wasn’t ready to understand what she meant. No, it’s definitely not easy to deal with anxiety, Valerie. I know you don’t want to feel this way. But, you are subconsciously choosing the anxiety over allowing your true feelings to come out.
What does that even mean? All I heard was that anxiety is a choice. My choice. How could it be a choice when I was trying everything in my power to overcome it and get rid of it? Twenty years of therapy, dozens of books, supplements, herbs, and oils, and many other coping mechanisms, distractions, and energy healings, yet it wouldn’t budge. I was often anxious, experiencing panic attacks, and overcome by obsessive and intrusive thoughts. I didn’t choose this curse and I was offended by the claim that I did whether consciously or subconsciously.
Twenty years later, still trying to beat the multiple anxiety disorders and overcome the eating disorder, I finally get it. Yep. I chose the anxiety all those years. I still do a lot of the time only now I am aware of it and now I am making a conscious choice to still choose the anxiety. I no longer get angry thinking that and admitting to it now. It’s almost freeing at this point. I have control over it; it doesn’t have control over me.
I developed anxiety as a coping mechanism to help me “deal” with the pain and trauma from my past. It was easier to worry about having HIV (which was not even possible at the time), or about my house going on fire, or about leaving an appliance on, or about every ache and pain that went through my body. It wasn’t easy, but it was easier. Easier than dealing with sexual abuse as a teenager, or the trauma from my parents’ messy divorce, or the pain from being neglected, or the feelings of low self-worth that came along with all of those other things. Yes, it was easier to worry about having HIV ten years after an unprotected encounter than it was to deal with being touched inappropriately by an adult male superior at one of my first jobs. I chose the anxiety and irrational things that did not actually happen rather than actual experiences that almost broke me. Those things were much harder to deal with.
And when the anxiety kept coming up and I couldn’t get any reprieve from the constant fears, thoughts, and obsessions, I needed a coping mechanism for my coping mechanism. I couldn’t take the physical symptoms of the panic attacks, the uneasiness in my stomach, the emergency room visits for the chest pain, and the inability to escape from my thoughts. So, binge eating disorder became the way I chose to deal with the anxiety, or rather, stuff it down. I just ate and ate and ate until I felt so sick I would involuntarily vomit in my mouth. After that, I couldn’t think of anything else but the overly full feeling in my stomach. That is until I would start beating myself up for feeling so out of control, disgusting, and hopeless. At the time, I wasn’t aware of any of this. I didn’t realize the anxiety was a result of not facing my trauma or that the eating disorder was a result of not wanting to feel the anxiety. I continued in this cycle for over twenty years.
Yet through all the tears, the knots in my stomach, the distractions, the fears, and the pain, I still feel blessed. I am blessed for who and where I am today. I’m grateful for the strength to carry on, for my beautiful family, for my supportive friends, for my awareness and being able to connect the dots, and for the fight in me that many have tried to silence. I am a fighter and I will continue to fight for what I believe is right, for my loved ones, for my life–one day at a time, one hour at a time, one moment at a time, one breath at a time.
Overweight, Anxious, and Done 