The last couple of years have been somewhat emotionally rough for me. I found myself so often delving into the past. I was trying to decode the ever present question of “why”. Why do I eat? Why can’t I just be happy most of the time? Why do I feel zapped of energy? Why can’t I just get my fat behind off of the couch and get moving? From September of 2007 to November of 2009, I had many failed attempts to lose weight. I mean, I would have lost weight if I stuck with the program (any program) but I just couldn’t stay focused for very long. There always seemed to be an excuse on the horizon of why I should give up. Many times, I would allow myself to fall completely off of the wagon just so that I could enjoy events that involved food. Because a part of me felt that I couldn’t enjoy them if I couldn’t fill my stomach to my heart’s desire at said events.

As i’ve gotten older, I recognize that I have control issues. In other words, for the longest time I felt the only thing in my control was the food I ate. It was the one area in my life where I felt I had complete control and a complete say-so. You see, for the longest time up until I started this journey, I was very comfortable giving away my personal power. I did it because I wanted to be liked. And I felt that in order for people to accept me, I had to dumb myself down and diffuse certain parts of myself to make *them* feel more comfortable. Subconsciously I figured that as long as I could eat what I wanted, then it was okay.

I started this vicious circle a long time ago. My parents were very authoritative. I lived in a very controlled environment. At least, from the perspective of what I was allowed to do and what I wasn’t. Both worked very hard and long hours at that. So, often times I stepped in and took over all of the domestic stuff. I was practically a second mom to my brothers. All of this started when I was 9. I remember my mom leaving for work and giving me large laundry lists of chores. I was responsible for cleaning up after 6 people including myself. I remember feeling overwhelmed. So much to the point that sometimes I didn’t get it done or I did it half-assed. And when that happened, she became angry and usually I got grounded. The funny thing is, much of my adolescence I felt held back and “grounded”. I wasn’t like normal girls my age. I felt like I came with baggage (three kids and a house to take care of).

I grew up poor. My parents worked very hard but for a time, we had very little. I remember being treated like an adult when it came to taking on extra responsibilities, but treated very much like a child when it came to my own needs and wants. And I felt forever selfish for having needs and wants. So I ate those feelings.

My mom became very concerned about my weight around the age of 11. She was forever nagging me to go on a diet. She said…. “Do you want to be big as a house?” That was when I started “sneak-eating”. And also at the same time found that I quite enjoyed eating alone because there was no one there to comment on it.  She was constantly on the prowl for diets that work for me. I felt so alone.

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