For me I think somewhere around the age of 9. My fourth grade year I remember a few things that perhaps changed my life and the way I chose to feel safe or to "cope", to feel secure, even loved.
My mom had always been what I refer to as broken,
unable to love in a way that a child needs.
In that year she made some exceptionally bad choices that rippled for years.
His name was Bob, and I hated him the moment I met him. The day they married a dark cloud followed me home from school, I tried to stay ahead of the rain but I could not avoid the storm that lie ahead. Storm Bob brought alcohol, addiction and violence.
Broken glass and broken emotions lie in his path.
He never laid a hand on me, by the grace of God but the two of them somehow still managed to fracture trust, innocence and contentment.
He because of his actions, she because of her selfishness and inaction.
By the time I was that 9 year old I had been fighting her battles and explaining her lies for years. Seems unrealistic, like an invalid memory but it is not.
A 9 year old cannot explain narcissism but they know somehow they aren't as important to their parent as they should be. They know that allowing a child in the back seat of a car going 80 mph down the wrong side of a highway isn't how it is suppose to be. In that car the intense smell of alcohol, screaming and hitting just isn't right somehow.
Nor can a child understand why their mother would look for that same person when he disappeared for days at a time.
I always wished he would never come back.
Occasionally my mother would have a moment of lucidity? compassion? guilt? and at 2 am would walk me to my grandmother's house where it was safe, quiet.
I would then watch her turn around to walk back home, back to him, back to black eyes, broken ribs and chaos......and I would wonder why.
Perhaps waking up in a safe home with the smell of fresh bread, cookies and breakfast somehow began to fuel a coping method.
stuff yourself with food till your too full to absorb anything else
numb yourself
I don't know.
In no way do I dismiss my personal responsibility as an adult of self control and in no way do I blame anyone, it is my struggle. In a way a cherished sin or a self imposed thorn.
Conflict.
I also do not intend to say everyone who overeats has issues or sinful habits. I do. Food is my comfort, in some ways healthy and celebratory, in some ways secret and angry.
Things that happen play a part in who we are. This is a part.
blessings and thanks for visiting
13 comments:
Powerful post Shannon. I am sorry you endured such a difficult youth.
I am an emotional eater, but have never been able to pinpoint the trigger that led to my path of self-destruction.
I look forward to Part II of your series.
Yes, a powerful post. There sure are a lot of us that have had tough childhoods. Alcohol was present in our home too ~ also too much. My father the "town" drunk, and my first paycheck used to bail him out of jail. I still have that receipt and had told my hubby years ago that I'd never bail anyone out again! Hiding from the fighting as a child does things to them, and for me, I don't remember a lot about my childhood. But I made it my lifes' goal, not to repeat ANY of what I grew up with.
You wrote your Part I so well; I don't think I could do that.
Have a great week Shannon, hugs, Jo
Shannon, I hear your story, and I so many just like yours every day because of the job I have.
But the thing I hear from you that I do not hear from others is, Self Awareness.
Shannon this is the first step to healing to become aware of what is the root of your issues!
You are a strong lady, you have came a long way just by having the strength to post about your past!
Hugs
Susan
I know it took great courage for you to write this. I , myself, am unable to as yet. I wish for you, that this opening to others who understand and have also suffered will give you some release from your agony and your solise of choice- food.
I await part 2. again, applause for your courage.. I appreciate it.
Sonny
Hey, sister. Great presentation. Love U
God bless you for your honesty and may he help you heal and grow. This is a great post, and I truly believe we can never overcome anything until we look it square in the eye. You have done that, and beautifully!
I understand the dysfunction completely.Some it repeats itself.Others are strong and realize there comes a time in life were it's our choice to make the rest of our lives the way we want.I applaud you for chosing the latter.Big hug for you!~Amy
Food as solace and friend. A familiar story and as much a part of the lives of those of us with loving parents whose lives revolved around hard work and six meals a day.
I am sad that you had to grow up so quickly in such a violent atmosphere, though. You are brave to share that, and it sounds like a familiar scene to many of your readers.
Our relationship with food is complicated---for almost all of us. Alas....
{{{{ CYBER HUG }}}}
Shannon, I, too, had a step-father but totally different from there. My DAD, was a kind and loving man and took my heart right from the start.
It just makes me sick at my stomach to think that yours was so bad. I am also sorry that your mom wasn't ever there for you. I can't even imagine how bad it must have made you feel.
Thank you for writing this...I am sure it helped you, too.
Look forward to your next writing...
♥♥♥
As for the wine...hahahhaaa...MY favorite WILD VINES BLACKBERRY also comes with a screw on top. So, see...we can be cheap together. Haaa...love it.
I don't know you and have just started to follow yuor blog. It takes great ccourage to bare your soul by writing your story. I send you love and support as you take this journey. It sounds like you are a "few quarts low". My best to you!
kathy
What a difficult path you traveled, and such a transparent heartfelt Post to share it.
I too am an emotional eater, thankfully mine didn't kick in until after I was almost 50... the problem with turning to food it seems is that it is not something you can "put away" and do without, so it can be a difficult addiction to conquer if that is what you turn to. May the Lord bring you comfort and strength during the times when the painful memories and trials of Life are overwhelming. May there be some clarity as to how to successfully overcome excess in fueling the body... may you eat to live, not live to eat.
Blessings and a Big Hug from the Arizona Desert... Dawn... The Bohemian
Very, very interesting post. I don't know why I overeat, but I can distinctly remember getting excited when my Mom and Dad were both out of the house at the same time because then I could make myself a big old glass of Tang. Sounds stupid, but I blame Tang on my sugar cravings.
Part One...
Shannon,
I came from a dysfunctional family. My father didn't drink but he was the controller, the verbal and beatings. I don't blame my mom, she was just scared to leave and tried twice. He always brought us back to his world. The I'm sorry's can along with the baggage....