When my grandmother was 80 years old, she was a ‘quit smoking’ expert - she quit more times than most people have cooked lunches. She eventually quit and lived to the ripe old age of 98 - a prime example of never quitting.
Over the years, and I’m taking into account my late childhood and adolescence, I’ve tossed and turned with the idea of having kids and one day becoming a parent, a mother. I’ve spent my professional career (if you want to call it that) working with children – working in daycares, at camps and swim centres.
TRIGGER WARNING: the following material may be triggering for some individuals - please read with caution.
When I reflect back on my life I start to see many different story lines. I have a mental health story, an addictions story and a body image story. All of them intertwine but all of them are also very distinct.
I truly thought I would die feeling the way I always felt: addicted to food, hating my body, and truly thinking it was all my fault. It made perfect sense in my struggling. self-hating mind. I was the one binge eating. I was the one unable to maintain a “good weight.” I was failing to meet any of my expectations.
I’ve received treatment more times than I care to count, for a larger array of issues than I care to admit, namely for anorexia nervosa in a variety of settings, inpatient, residential, outpatient, psychiatry wards and medical wards.
"None of my actions were a choice - they were an illness, a coping mechanism that allowed me to disguise my insecurities, pain, trauma, self-hate, and complete belief that I was not enough, that I would never be enough."