The little light in the refrigerator
I grew up in a very volatile home environment. Domestic violence a normal everyday occurrence. I feel the anxiety transcend and feeling of walking on egg shells all my life.
My mother had already suffered Anorexia in her early years and as I was growing I was watching her relapse. Particularly because a lot of my father’s abuse surrounded the control of food.
Portion sizes, were controlled by dad and once he had finished stealing food from my mum and I, the critique around mums cooking began. I had to learn to eat fast otherwise I’d have very little food.
Every meal time I began to feel anxious and as I grew older, I ate fast, because I’d been programed that way. At 14 years old, was when the real unhealthy control of my eating began by my own doing. Eating then exercising.
I would come home to weigh myself, eat, then go straight back to exercising. I was always checking in the mirror, to make sure I was attractive. I became obsessed with my appearance. My father making remarks about my weight ever since I was very young.
Dad said on a regular basis if you lost a bit more weight you’ll be pretty. He still lets that remark slip out to this day. I am aware now though. I did a talk in high school about bulimia and admitted my struggle to my class mates in year 10 English class.
It was a way out of the mental chains I’d been experiencing. Openly talking about my eating disorder and habits surrounding it. Food was the only thing I felt I could control, when other parts of my life were difficult.
What I realise now, is that I sometimes revert back to old habits, but not to beat myself up over it. I can change the pattern forward, at my next meal. The light in the Refrigerator, is now my friend.