Pick.
I have a lot of scars.
Growing up, I never let things heal. If there was a skinned knee or scratched shin, that scab was coming off. Multiple times. I’d peel it off and watch the blood and couldn’t wait until the scab came back again. I’d tear the tissue-paper skin off blisters then press my finger against the raw pink flesh underneath to feel it burn. If I had a bruise or goose-egg, I’d prod and poke at it, feeling that dull, deep ache.
And I was a pretty accident-prone child, so opportunities abounded.
Now, I still take myself apart in little ways. My cuticles are shredded most days; one on the thumb of my right hand stays perpetually bloodied. I chew the inside of my lip until it bleeds when I’m nervous or upset or…well…awake; it’s always salty and raw. When I’m feeling particulary anxious, my first instinct is to always make something hurt. Hurt brings me back. Hurt is real.
This post by Teppy really resonates with me and makes me think about something I generally try not to.
The first man who pointed out my fatness is the one I chose to marry.
Yeah, that’s so far beyond a bloody thumb, huh?
It happened the first time a couple months after we’d started dating; we were shopping for these specific shirts for his mom and sister, both wisps of women, and I said we could probably get something cute in the kids’ section since they’re both so thin. He looked at me and said, “Are you jealous?”
The second time was a few months later; we were deciding whether or not to continue with our relationship and he was concerned because I wasn’t “active.” Which is total code for “fat,” right?
The next week I started my diet.
My husband has worked really hard to make up for those things and he has since been incredibly cautious about not making me feel badly about my body. He’s been supportive as I’ve gained these 20 pounds and tells me he thinks I’m even more attractive now.
But in the back of my head, I’ve always felt like there’s a condition there, like 146 is okay, but if I go up to 156 or 166 or back to the 180s where I was when we met, then I’ve let him down.
It says something important about me that I choose to have the primary relationship in my life be one that hurt me. And I sometimes wonder when I’m going to stop hurting myself.
Or if I’m going to stop hurting myself.
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So the first paragraph describes me as a kid to a tee. I’m trying really hard to not think about the rest of the blog too deeply because I’m afraid of the implications in my own life. We deserve to be sane and happy and whole, and not tear ourselves apart. I’ll think about it later when I can cry if necessary.
I think that we take criticism’s from the people that we love alot harder because they do matter so much to us. But what about our own relationship w/ ourselves? We should value our thoughts and opinions more than anyone else, even if they are our significant others, sisters, brothers, moms, dads, etc… At the end of the day, the only person who matters is you. Don’t let anyone put you down, it’s your body, your life. Live how you see fit
Oh, honey.
I literally just got off the phone with The Boy, after an hour-long conversation in which I made no bones about wanting to know exactly what he thought my answer could have been to “Are you going to get bigger?” and how he thought that question would do anything other than hurt me.
He told me that it was a thoughtless question….and that what he *really* meant was that he was concerned about my health, because I’m (get ready) “not as active” as he is.
Tonight, I didn’t cry; tonight, I laid it all out for him. I pointed out that lots of thin people have heart attacks, high cholesterol, hypertension, etc., and that it’s a huge mistake to assume that *any* fat person has high cholesterol, diabetes, heart disease, etc., and that, as a matter of fact, my blood pressure, cholesterol, and blood sugar are all perfectly normal.
I also pointed out that “being active” isn’t measured in absolutes; he has ADD and is, therefore, the Energizer Bunny. Just because I don’t zip around like him does *not* make me Jabba the Hutt. And I told him that it’s unfair to compare my activity level to his, given that his is the result of a condition that I DON’T HAVE.
He was very thoughtful about everything I said, and more than once he said, “I didn’t know that,” or, “I *was* making a faulty assumption.”
Part of what I love about him is that he’s open to looking at things from a new angle, and admitting where he’s wrong. Now, I truly don’t think that just our single conversation will be enough to change how he views weight (and *my* weight), but I’m hopeful that it’s at least going to point him in the right direction.
And yet, his “Are you going to get bigger?” question is still out there, and I’m still smarting from it. I’m willing to proceed cautiously, especially given our conversation tonight, but…I’m still wary.
“I said we could probably get something cute in the kids’ section since they’re both so thin. He looked at me and said, “Are you jealous?”
While reading this I was very interested in the tone in which *both* remarks were made.
“Are you jealous?” could sound merely inquisitive (literally “jealous”, as in: Hm, I’m curious, would you like to be that thin?) but it could also sound concerned (as in: Are you unhappy with your body – I wouldn’t want you to be unhappy cos I’m totally in love with you) or disturbed (as in: Are you picking on my family? How dare you!) or hurtful (as in: You should be jealous, you’re fat). I think you picked the last possibility, but was it really meant that way? My feeling goes towards option number two or three. Of course, you’re a much better judge of his tone at the time than I could ever be – but then, if he meant it that way and this was a “dealbreaker” for him, why would he even date let alone marry you?
Then also what *you* said – what did you mean by it? If I try to look at that remark from his perspective, I can understand he’d *think* you’re jealous in the way of wanting to be that thin yourself – either that, or he might’ve thought you were picking on his family.
Sorry, maybe I’m just trying to overanalyse things.
Anyhow, what I would really like to say to you right now is: I’ve been following your blog for a while, and I think you ARE on the right track to NO LONGER hurting yourself. You’re taking care of yourself, you’re getting in tune with what you and your body need, you nourish yourself in Many Different Ways. To me, that definitely sounds like NOT hurting yourself.
If your feelings of your husband being dissapointed in you cos you’re no longer rail thin keep bugging you: confront him with it. He might not even have a clue you feel that way (I mean, really, men can be soooo clueless when it comes to women’s feelings …) But also – and this I’d like to say to Teppy as well – don’t be afraid to not only feel hurt but angry as well. If you think you’re being treated unfairly or if someone (whoever!) hurts you without even thinking about it, it’s okay to be angry.
I’m totally with Lauren on the first couple paragraphs, and with feeling really not-at-all prepared to deal with facing that sort of thing in my own life, though I know it’s out there waiting for me.
Secondly, I want to say “Amen!” to what Dutchy said in closing.
I often try to look at my responses to emotional injuries and compare them to how I would respond to a physical injury. So, in this case: Thoughtless remark or no, ignorant of the facts or no, the fact remains you’ve been hurt.
If someone stepped on your foot, you’d speak up as both of you (Teppy and GwC) have done. And if, when you spoke up, the stepper replied, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t see it there,” you could, indeed, reply, “I understand, just please move.” However, if they’d stepped on your foot really hard, or if they’d done so while wearing cleats or something, you’d be well within your rights to say, “Yeah, well watch where you’re going, dammit!”
If you would say something like that in defense of your foot*, then why would you not say something like that in defense of your heart?
* Mind you, the chance of me saying something like that in defense of my foot /or/ my heart is pretty much nil, so keep in mind that I’m talking a much better game than I typically live. But then we start getting into that stuff I mentioned in the first paragraph here.
I have this theory that cutters and people who poke and hurt themselves in some way are really looking to self medicate deeper pain- like the body shooting out endorphins to handle the lesser pain of cutting can do something to the inner turmoil pain. But nothing is ever really studied or considered in regards to this- the world is too up in arms over THE FAT.
Somehow, I think a huge portion of obesity, psych issues (especially the rampant depression), and other health concerns are tied to unrelieved stress.
Anybody got millions of grant money for me to pursue these two studies?
Hey girl – I totally get you on this. I thought I was pretty great until I got married and my husband started pointing out all my *flaws*. I got pregnant within the first year of our marriage (okay it was a shotgun wedding)and I went from 135 to 180 pounds – yowsa! His one and only comment about my weight was after the baby was born and I had lost about 20 pounds and he said “Yeah, but your really gonna have to work hard to get those thighs smaller”. ZING! I think that as soon as he said it, he KNEW he should be doing whatever he could to reverse the earth’s rotation and turn back time so he could slap a hand over his own mouth to keep from making such a stupid comment. I was deeply hurt. Mind you, I am a classic pear shape, and have never had small thighs. EVER. Anyway, through the years he managed to wittle my self esteem down to nothing, not by making remarks about my weight, but just other little things that made me think I wasn’t the smart, funny, great person I always thought i was. And sadly, I’ve probably done the same thing to him too. We always hurt the ones we love, I guess. Lately however I have come to the conclusion that he can make me feel inferior only if I let him (thank you Eleanor). I think right here I should say he is a great guy and he still loves me, big thighs and all. However, now I take what he says with a grain of salt, and I like to point out to him that he is not perfect either. That usually shuts him up. I think what we really need to take away from this is that the men we love can be total idiots sometimes. And sometimes they can be our biggest cheerleaders. My husband said to me the other day, “Of course I have faith in you, I have more faith in you than you have in yourself.” And he’s probably right.
So what if he “loves you,” ladies? If he really did, would he say things that slowly wore you down?
I’m starting to worry that the only kind of relationship I can have with a future husband is the kind where we simply rip each other soul’s apart because you always “hurt the one you love.”
I think I’ll just skip all that, thanks. I’d rather not be tied the rest of my life to someone who disrespects my right to be happy and alive.
Also, Good with Cheese, remember that it’s not a race, and chances are very good that if you recognize that you might be doing this, you’ll take steps, even if they’re small, to change things. Good luck!
I really relate to those first few paragraphs. I bite my fingers and cuticles A LOT. It’s a horrible, gross habit – plus it is painful. Not usually while I am doing it but I will often leave myself in pain because I “went too far”. Just another hurtful habit I need to tackle some day…
I agree with Dutchy about confronting your husband if you are concerned about how he feels about Future You and size, if that’s been bugging you.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this blog. I read it start to finish the last few days – it’s been very inspiring and thought-provoking.
AshleyL – it’s not so dramatic as all that. Marriage is not always wine & roses, but I do know that my husband is the first one to defend me against outside attacks and he would kill or die for me. There is no one I would rather be with when the going gets tough (and it has). My low self esteem has come primarily from what I perceive he has said instead of what he actually meant. I am ultra sensitive and if someone looks at me funny, I assume it is because there is something wrong with me, not them. I am working on this though, and I feel stronger for it. And no, I don’t think you should be tied to someone who doesn’t want you to be happy either. It isn’t a black and white world and I hope that someday you meet someone who will change your mind.
“When I’m feeling particulary anxious, my first instinct is to always make something hurt. Hurt brings me back. Hurt is real.”
Oh gosh, I have goosebumps. You articulated that so well. I constantly look to hurt myself. When one way is taken from me, or I give it up, I look for another. I’m really struggling with this right now. thanks for making me feel a little less alone.
xoxo
Sarah
I’m a picker, too. I love picking off scabs and popping zits and I chew my lips and fingers. I try to stop, but I’ll find myself searching for a new scab to pick as I drive, or gnawing my lip as I sit and read. It’s so ingrained, that I really never thought of it as hurting myself, even though I used to cut and burn myself as a teenager and it was always a way to relieve psychic pain. Even now I find myself getting upset and reverting to wanting to cut myself, even though I haven’t done it in years and I never follow through. Now I’m wondering how much of the picking that I thought was more normal is about hurt.
My husband hates my weight. It has gotten to the point where if he sees me naked, he comments on my stomach or my ass. If I eat something junky, he has a comment. I gave him a hug today and he was staring at my stomach as I came toward him, with that look on his face, the one he gets where I can tell he’s just so horrified by me.
So am I just punishing myself? Is being fat some way that I can continue to hurt myself without actively using a razor or a cigarette? I guess I have some things to really think about here, because it is starting to look like I didn’t really outgrow the behaviors I thought I had.
Thanks for making me step back and think.
All your comments are so appreciated. I’m sorry that we all seem to have some of these things in common, but at least we’re living examined lives, right?
In defense of my husband, he tells me constantly that he wants me at a happy weight, not a low weight. If I comment on how my body isn’t losing any weight even though I’m working out like crazy, he says that’s good because I don’t need to lose any weight. He is incredibly supportive about both my body image issues and the myriad other ways I bring The Crazy.
I just know I have always chosen situations that let me act of my little drama of not-good-enough, and I sometimes wonder if that’s what I did here, too. Not just about the fat, but about the other difficult comprimises and tended wounds that marriage inevitably brings.
[...] keep thinking about this post at Good With Cheese, and about how true and honest it was, and how much it touched me to read it. [...]