RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE | Anger and Weight Obsession
I spent my whole life surrounded by anger. My mother was angry at my father; my father was angry at my mother. For three years I lived with a Stepfather who took his rage out on me with his words and with his fists. As a teenager, I was angry at my mother for not letting me pray the way I wanted, think the way I wanted, or eat the way I wanted. I was angry at my father for leaving me and never coming back.
I suppose I could have chosen to become violent, stand on top of a tower and unleash an oozie on society, but instead I decided to take it out on myself and my body. I began abusing myself, because it was the only way I knew how. I was taking back control of my life, or so I thought. At the time I felt for once in my life like I was calling the shots, like I was driving the bus, that I was the ruler of my kingdom. Once I got a taste of that, it was like nobody could touch me. I became wonderful allies with Anorexia and Bulimia. I was my own army, and this was my only defense. My eating disorder made all that pain go away, I suddenly didn’t have to feel hurt because I was numb. I had no fear, and I didn’t care who I pissed off in the process of destroying myself. I was actually secretly happy when people became angry with me for all my craziness. I loved it!
In the words of Howard Beale from a little movie called Network, “I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”
Well unfortunately the wrong kind of anger can backfire and after living on the edge for two long will eventually make you fall off.
Suddenly all that anger I took out on my body and other people caught up with me and I was nothing less then a “despicable me”.
I was too busy trying to burn bridges instead of figuring out a way to cross over them. I thought my disease was my friend, but in the end it turned out to be my biggest enemy. An enemy that wasn’t going to be happy until I was dead.
Wait though…I wasn’t ready to die, but I had become so tired of kicking and screaming my way through life that I wasn’t sure how much fight I actually had left in me.
My food disorder had grown so large over the years that it was an entity like no other. I remember thinking back to when I was at the bottom of the trenches, the absolute rock fucking bottom, and I felt absolutely helpless. I felt like even if I wanted to fight up against this thing..this demon, that it would most certainly win.
It had ravaged my body and mind almost completely , but I knew it hadn’t taken away my will to live…
I began to flex and build the most powerful weapon I had…my spirit!
Stay tuned and in the final part of this blog I will tell you how!!
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