My Mother called me yesterday and gave me quite a fright, at first.
And right there I knew she wasn’t talking about INCONCEIVABLE, my shared movie blog, or FAT JACKS ERRATIC RANTS where I’ve been discussing some politics lately. She was talking about my new weight-related writings.
Talking about my addiction with my Mother is a lot like have the condom discussion we had when I was 16-years-old. One Saturday afternoon, Mom and Dad called me into the living room. They were sitting on the hearth of the fireplace, not on the couch or chair, but on the fireplace. It wasn’t cold out.
All I could think of at the time was “Oh God, I’m caught.” Now I didn’t know what they had caught me doing, but I was sure they found something out. As it turns out, I had been doing plenty of things of which to be punished; I just didn’t know which one was coming.
Much to my chagrin my Mother wanted to talk about condoms. It was horrifying. I wasn’t used to the sex talk with my parents so the idea was quite uncomfortable. I could imagine them pulling one out and blowing it up or maybe getting a cucumber and demonstrating its use for me. My father said nothing. He just stared at the ground. My Mother asked me if I knew what a condom was. This was our first real sex talk and at 16 it was too late. I was aware of the item known as a latex condom, thank you very much. She, of course, also asked if I knew how to use and what it was for. That was the line my friends, which I did not wish to cross. I am glad we had this little talk but I am so out of here. The stomach wasn’t happy with the circumstances then and I had that familiar feeling this time as well.
And so started a short discussion on our lives, hers and mine, and it made me realize, for the first time really, how my food addiction affects everyone around me. Not just my inner circle – wife and daughter – but everyone in my many circles. An addiction of any kind not only affects the user, but the friends and family. Now I’m lucky in that a traditional addiction affects a person’s daily functions at home, work, school and life. Many hit a point where their addiction takes over their life, to the detriment of other relationships or enjoyments. Not so with food addiction. My overeating, in a very strange way, enhances those experiences and offers comfort in dealing with them.
A food addiction affects my health, but not my ability to have healthy relationships. I don’t choose my drug over my friends or family. My addiction is used in conjunction with those relationships. My drug is used to bring important relationships together, and helps keep them cohesive. Most social events center around food and eating. We host parties, family get-togethers and celebrate holidays using food as a catalyst for togetherness. Food is our glue, our reason to get together and stay together. Many times it is that celebration that connects our outer circle relationships; indeed, I only see some people at family food functions or annual celebrations. It all centers around the food.
It’s a natural thing because we have to eat. But that is what makes my addiction difficult to understand and even more difficult to treat. If you are an eating addict do you refrain from those drug events in hopes of keeping yourself clean? Or do you attend and work hard to only taste a bit of your drug?
The interesting thing about this was that my Mother wasn’t calling about her; she was calling about me. That doesn’t surprise me as my Mother always thinks of other people and how they are being affected. She is very good at that and it seems to come natural to her. I, on the other hand, have to work at that sometimes.
We talked about my addiction, and yes we used the term addiction, an idea that has only just recently come to me. It is a term that I am using with more comfort each and every time I say it out loud.
She meant that. My Mother has a tone about her sometimes. When she makes a decision about something, when she has her mind set on something, she develops a powerful, loving tone about her that when confronted with it, makes it hard to buck. You just don’t say no to her when she counts to three and says her piece.
That’s the same tone in which she stated this and there is comfort in that, knowing that the family is ready to help. My family is very helpful that way. When it comes to crisis, and I suppose we could label this as a crisis of sorts, my family is very strong in its response. It has always been this way.
My family has always been respectful and scared of my weight. Scared in the sense that they don’t want to be offensive or judgmental about it. It’s been a delicate subject I guess. That is changing as I write about my weight on my blog. By writing about it in this way, it gives light to the problem and gives my family permission to discuss their concerns as well. Not something I planned. I really didn’t plan for my family to read my blog although I have no problems with it. I offered a warning early on, that they may want to steer clear as I am preparing to talk even more candidly about my weight, and the reasons for my weight. Some of that information will be unpleasant for everyone involved. Not from a blaming perspective, because I take responsibility for my weight. That’s an important aspect to understand, but I know that I my decisions were shaped by my experiences. Still I choose to deal with those experiences through eating.
It is interesting, however, to think outside myself for a while and feel how my eating addiction affects those around me. How do my parents view my weight and how does it affect them? As a parent of a child, I am beginning to understand how take on our children’s successes and failures. We worry about our children, even when they are not aware of it and we can, if we are not careful, blame ourselves when they do not meet their own potential or when they stumble.
And as parents, we think a lot about how we could have acted or reacted differently in order to better help our child. The world was a different time when I was a child. There was still a clinging tradition of eating all the food sitting on the plate, regardless whether you were full or not. My Grandmother still tries to hold true to that and would like nothing more than to force feed my child. But this is a different time and most have rejected that. Now, we know better. We didn’t then.
In those days children didn’t have care seats, there was no seat belt law, children could buy cigarettes for the parents at the local convenience store, and schools did not have a comprehensive health curriculum based on national standards. The world was, indeed, a very different place and I am not convinced it’s helpful it is to try to go back and assess our missteps as parents. My Iaito (the art of drawing the samurai sword) instructor always quotes a Japanese saying, which translated means:
Even monkeys fall from trees.
I like that a lot, because it humanizes us and reminds us that try as we might, we sometimes fall from trees. Some days we manage to catch a limb on the way down and sometimes we manage to clop into every one of them on our way to meet the grassy knoll. Lord knows I’ve lost my grip and hit my share of limbs and I’m not done.
My eating disorders, while being affected by my experiences (positive and negative), are not the responsibility of my parents, friends or family. The responsibility lies solely with me. Sometimes life is shit and it’s up to each of us to deal with that. Unfortunately I have found solace and comfort in food. I don’t really understand it all yet, but I know that food offers me something, consoles me and calms me.
I can imagine my family wishing that they had done this or that differently or maybe addressed my eating addiction when I was young. Maybe they feel they were responsible for allowing it to happen or not for dealing with it. I don’t know, but I can image that my pain is indeed linked to them. We feel for our children and want so desperately to help them. I imagine that my parents feel the some version of this guilt or some other.
It cannot be easy to watch your own child slowly destroy his body and contribute to his own early death. They must at times be fearful that they will be forced to bury me. If there thoughts are like mine, the idea can be overwhelming and frustrating.
She knows, or has an idea, what this could entail. They’ve read my blog and know that I am considering undergoing a life-altering weight loss surgery. Mom watches Oprah and they’ve seen news stories on bariatric (obesity) surgery and how much it changes people’s lives.
It is comforting to know that they are willing to change our family habits and traditions, or at least consider it, in order to help one person. That is a lot for me to ask and a lot for them to offer, and I’m sure they didn’t consult the rest of the family before making such an offer. My Mother doesn’t really have to, though. She sets a lot of those types of rules and just informs the rest of the family how it’s going to be and everyone is expected to follow suit.
I’m jumping the gun a bit. I don’t know what to ask them to do that will help. I’m not sure what to change or how it should be changed, if at all. Maybe a good registered dietician (as suggested by one reader) or a weight loss physician (suggested by another) may be the answer. Then there’s the question of payment. Does insurance pay to see these folks; does it pay for the bariatric surgeries?
Right now, there are more questions than answers, but at least I know I have some folks on my side who will help me make changes. I guess that’s all the beginning of dealing with an addiction. That and being honest with everyone including myself. I’m hoping my blog will be a productive outlet to deal with this disease or disorder or addiction or whatever we will call it. I want it to offer insights into my eating addiction and myself and help me to find a new path and help others become more educated, tolerant and supportive of those with compulsive overeating disorders.
We had a good phone call, my Mom and I. We talked about my weight in ways we have never done before and we were frank with each other. We came to an understanding that it will take more than me to fight this fight. I can't do it alone; God know's I've tried. I have failed in that respect. In order to be successful in this lifetime weight loss thing, I will need the help of many. My life, their lives, will change to differing degrees. Unlike the case with the condom, this time I was glad to have our little talk. It was a long time coming and after many years I was finally ready to have it. I have an eating addiction and I am going to die if I don't do something more. I need their help and they offered before I asked. That's a good place to be.
I still maintain that there will come some posts (not parent-bashing posts) that will be too personal, too revealing, for them. They are welcome to read anyway if they think it will help. But they've had their warning.
“Hello,” say I.
“Hi, honey,” says Mom. “I-‘ve b-e-en r-e-a-d-i-n-g y-o-u-r b-l-o-g.”
And right there I knew she wasn’t talking about INCONCEIVABLE, my shared movie blog, or FAT JACKS ERRATIC RANTS where I’ve been discussing some politics lately. She was talking about my new weight-related writings.
Talking about my addiction with my Mother is a lot like have the condom discussion we had when I was 16-years-old. One Saturday afternoon, Mom and Dad called me into the living room. They were sitting on the hearth of the fireplace, not on the couch or chair, but on the fireplace. It wasn’t cold out.
All I could think of at the time was “Oh God, I’m caught.” Now I didn’t know what they had caught me doing, but I was sure they found something out. As it turns out, I had been doing plenty of things of which to be punished; I just didn’t know which one was coming.
Much to my chagrin my Mother wanted to talk about condoms. It was horrifying. I wasn’t used to the sex talk with my parents so the idea was quite uncomfortable. I could imagine them pulling one out and blowing it up or maybe getting a cucumber and demonstrating its use for me. My father said nothing. He just stared at the ground. My Mother asked me if I knew what a condom was. This was our first real sex talk and at 16 it was too late. I was aware of the item known as a latex condom, thank you very much. She, of course, also asked if I knew how to use and what it was for. That was the line my friends, which I did not wish to cross. I am glad we had this little talk but I am so out of here. The stomach wasn’t happy with the circumstances then and I had that familiar feeling this time as well.
“I’ve been reading your blog. And, well, um, I, well honey, I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what to do for you.”
“I don’t know how to help myself,” told her.
And so started a short discussion on our lives, hers and mine, and it made me realize, for the first time really, how my food addiction affects everyone around me. Not just my inner circle – wife and daughter – but everyone in my many circles. An addiction of any kind not only affects the user, but the friends and family. Now I’m lucky in that a traditional addiction affects a person’s daily functions at home, work, school and life. Many hit a point where their addiction takes over their life, to the detriment of other relationships or enjoyments. Not so with food addiction. My overeating, in a very strange way, enhances those experiences and offers comfort in dealing with them.
A food addiction affects my health, but not my ability to have healthy relationships. I don’t choose my drug over my friends or family. My addiction is used in conjunction with those relationships. My drug is used to bring important relationships together, and helps keep them cohesive. Most social events center around food and eating. We host parties, family get-togethers and celebrate holidays using food as a catalyst for togetherness. Food is our glue, our reason to get together and stay together. Many times it is that celebration that connects our outer circle relationships; indeed, I only see some people at family food functions or annual celebrations. It all centers around the food.
It’s a natural thing because we have to eat. But that is what makes my addiction difficult to understand and even more difficult to treat. If you are an eating addict do you refrain from those drug events in hopes of keeping yourself clean? Or do you attend and work hard to only taste a bit of your drug?
“I don’t know how to help you,” said Mom.
“I don’t know how to help myself.”
The interesting thing about this was that my Mother wasn’t calling about her; she was calling about me. That doesn’t surprise me as my Mother always thinks of other people and how they are being affected. She is very good at that and it seems to come natural to her. I, on the other hand, have to work at that sometimes.
We talked about my addiction, and yes we used the term addiction, an idea that has only just recently come to me. It is a term that I am using with more comfort each and every time I say it out loud.
“I want you to know that your Dad and I will do anything we can to help you. We will do whatever you need us to do. I don’t want you to worry about that. This family is here to help you and we will all do it.”
She meant that. My Mother has a tone about her sometimes. When she makes a decision about something, when she has her mind set on something, she develops a powerful, loving tone about her that when confronted with it, makes it hard to buck. You just don’t say no to her when she counts to three and says her piece.
That’s the same tone in which she stated this and there is comfort in that, knowing that the family is ready to help. My family is very helpful that way. When it comes to crisis, and I suppose we could label this as a crisis of sorts, my family is very strong in its response. It has always been this way.
My family has always been respectful and scared of my weight. Scared in the sense that they don’t want to be offensive or judgmental about it. It’s been a delicate subject I guess. That is changing as I write about my weight on my blog. By writing about it in this way, it gives light to the problem and gives my family permission to discuss their concerns as well. Not something I planned. I really didn’t plan for my family to read my blog although I have no problems with it. I offered a warning early on, that they may want to steer clear as I am preparing to talk even more candidly about my weight, and the reasons for my weight. Some of that information will be unpleasant for everyone involved. Not from a blaming perspective, because I take responsibility for my weight. That’s an important aspect to understand, but I know that I my decisions were shaped by my experiences. Still I choose to deal with those experiences through eating.
It is interesting, however, to think outside myself for a while and feel how my eating addiction affects those around me. How do my parents view my weight and how does it affect them? As a parent of a child, I am beginning to understand how take on our children’s successes and failures. We worry about our children, even when they are not aware of it and we can, if we are not careful, blame ourselves when they do not meet their own potential or when they stumble.
And as parents, we think a lot about how we could have acted or reacted differently in order to better help our child. The world was a different time when I was a child. There was still a clinging tradition of eating all the food sitting on the plate, regardless whether you were full or not. My Grandmother still tries to hold true to that and would like nothing more than to force feed my child. But this is a different time and most have rejected that. Now, we know better. We didn’t then.
In those days children didn’t have care seats, there was no seat belt law, children could buy cigarettes for the parents at the local convenience store, and schools did not have a comprehensive health curriculum based on national standards. The world was, indeed, a very different place and I am not convinced it’s helpful it is to try to go back and assess our missteps as parents. My Iaito (the art of drawing the samurai sword) instructor always quotes a Japanese saying, which translated means:
Even monkeys fall from trees.
I like that a lot, because it humanizes us and reminds us that try as we might, we sometimes fall from trees. Some days we manage to catch a limb on the way down and sometimes we manage to clop into every one of them on our way to meet the grassy knoll. Lord knows I’ve lost my grip and hit my share of limbs and I’m not done.
My eating disorders, while being affected by my experiences (positive and negative), are not the responsibility of my parents, friends or family. The responsibility lies solely with me. Sometimes life is shit and it’s up to each of us to deal with that. Unfortunately I have found solace and comfort in food. I don’t really understand it all yet, but I know that food offers me something, consoles me and calms me.
I can imagine my family wishing that they had done this or that differently or maybe addressed my eating addiction when I was young. Maybe they feel they were responsible for allowing it to happen or not for dealing with it. I don’t know, but I can image that my pain is indeed linked to them. We feel for our children and want so desperately to help them. I imagine that my parents feel the some version of this guilt or some other.
It cannot be easy to watch your own child slowly destroy his body and contribute to his own early death. They must at times be fearful that they will be forced to bury me. If there thoughts are like mine, the idea can be overwhelming and frustrating.
“I want you to know that your Dad and I will do anything we can to help you. We will do whatever you need us to do. I don’t want you to worry about that. This family is here to help you and we will all do it.”
She knows, or has an idea, what this could entail. They’ve read my blog and know that I am considering undergoing a life-altering weight loss surgery. Mom watches Oprah and they’ve seen news stories on bariatric (obesity) surgery and how much it changes people’s lives.
It is comforting to know that they are willing to change our family habits and traditions, or at least consider it, in order to help one person. That is a lot for me to ask and a lot for them to offer, and I’m sure they didn’t consult the rest of the family before making such an offer. My Mother doesn’t really have to, though. She sets a lot of those types of rules and just informs the rest of the family how it’s going to be and everyone is expected to follow suit.
I’m jumping the gun a bit. I don’t know what to ask them to do that will help. I’m not sure what to change or how it should be changed, if at all. Maybe a good registered dietician (as suggested by one reader) or a weight loss physician (suggested by another) may be the answer. Then there’s the question of payment. Does insurance pay to see these folks; does it pay for the bariatric surgeries?
Right now, there are more questions than answers, but at least I know I have some folks on my side who will help me make changes. I guess that’s all the beginning of dealing with an addiction. That and being honest with everyone including myself. I’m hoping my blog will be a productive outlet to deal with this disease or disorder or addiction or whatever we will call it. I want it to offer insights into my eating addiction and myself and help me to find a new path and help others become more educated, tolerant and supportive of those with compulsive overeating disorders.
We had a good phone call, my Mom and I. We talked about my weight in ways we have never done before and we were frank with each other. We came to an understanding that it will take more than me to fight this fight. I can't do it alone; God know's I've tried. I have failed in that respect. In order to be successful in this lifetime weight loss thing, I will need the help of many. My life, their lives, will change to differing degrees. Unlike the case with the condom, this time I was glad to have our little talk. It was a long time coming and after many years I was finally ready to have it. I have an eating addiction and I am going to die if I don't do something more. I need their help and they offered before I asked. That's a good place to be.
I still maintain that there will come some posts (not parent-bashing posts) that will be too personal, too revealing, for them. They are welcome to read anyway if they think it will help. But they've had their warning.
1 comment:
Chris my man I commend you for your openes with this subject. I am glad you have family and friends that support you. Just remember to take care of yourself because in the words of my grandma- your gonna live forever because bad weeds never die! So that means you have to take care of yourself so us bad weeds can stick together! Talk to you soon Lenny
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