No lies. Prior to third grade I was actually a pretty healthy, moderately skinny child (I have pictures!) But 3rd-6th grade my parents fought a lot. They had money issues, and a lot of family issues, mainly surroundng my grandfather and his mental health problems.The fighting got better eventually, but I feel like it affected me a lot more than it affected my sisters. Whenever they fought, I used to take my sisters up to my bedroom and make sure they were ok, and away from the screaming. I think my method of dealing with it (Since as a 8 year old I had to be strong for my sisters) was through food. I would sneak cheese, crackers, whatever I could find, and sit there and make mini sandwiches, like 10 of them. At the time, I didn't see anything wrong with it. I didn't know I was hoarding food. My doctor called the weight I gained "baby fat", and that I would grow out of it. It wasn't until I was 11 that she sent me to a nutritionist, because obviously a 11 year old shouldn't weigh 230 pounds.
I don't blame my parents at all. They did the best they could, they even sent me to a therapist, which was basically a woman who let me play with toys for an hour and would ask me twice how I was feeling. Waste of money, honestly, but they tried. I've always been the "strong" one, who kept things in and dealt with stuff in my way, so that I didn't add the burden onto my parents. When in truth everything culminated together made me pretty damn depressed, until I made some good friends Sophmore year of High School. Then the weight gain and my home life didn't upset me as much, because I had them to make me happy.
I can't help but think of these memories now more than ever, because it makes me think back to when I was this low, and I realize I can't remember when I weighed less than 200. I remember gaining 50 pounds between 3rd and 4th grade, and another 50 the following year. I look back, and wonder why it didn't bother me. Why didn't I get upset by it, or want to change. Especially in middle school my quality of life was diminished. I was teased, mocked, and had things thrown at me. I was treated like a lesser being by some of my (former) friends, because I was looked down upon by the pretty girls they desperated imitated and tried to be like. It was the main reason why I went to the Catholic High School instead of the public one. I hated the kids in my school, and
I see my 17 year old sister now, who lost over 100 pounds when she was 16. Regardless of the fact that she gained a bit back and is struggling to lose it again, she is still such a remarkable person. I see so much of my struggles in her (flaky friends, mean people, lonliness), the difference is she had the strength to do what I could never do. She took her life, and she transformed it for the better. And regardless of her struggles and the reprocussions of her weight loss, and the fact that her friends still suck sometimes, (Something which I attribute it to having such awesome older sisters that made her so much cooler than the average high schooler :-P) she handles it all so well (most of the time). When she felt sad she asked my mom to see a therapist. When she saw herself spiraling downward and getting scared because of her weight loss, she reached out for help. That alone makes her such a strong person. She doesn't hold resentment towards my parents like my other sister P does, but she doesnt hold in her issues either. She's just such an awesome kid, and I'm so proud of her. It makes me wish I had her strength when I was that age.
I started my weight loss journey for real in April 2010 because I was just tired. I was tired of always hating the way I looked, I was tired of being the big girl. I was tired of my self confidence being so low that I felt (and honestly sometimes still feel) like nothing I had to say has/had any value. I was tired of being exhausted all the time, and bearly having the energy to do day to day things. I had dieted before this, I had even done WW before this,
I just wish I got tired sooner.