Things we carry with us

I want to write about something that's very personal and I'm going to put it here.

Yesterday, I ate as a reaction to news that made me sad. I didn't think about it, I just did it. And afterwards, I felt physically uncomfortable, overly full, and guilty and sad and ashamed.

And then I got a flash of a memory.

I was eleven years old. It was only a few months after my dad died. My mom wasn't "around" and what I mean is that she was physically present but she was drinking and self medicating and she just wasn't there. I would put my younger siblings to bed. It was late, after I had sung Emily to sleep and after the house was quiet. I went downstairs and I piled up food. I don't know what but it was probably chips and bread and cookies and I went quietly up to my room and I crawled into bed and I ate all of it and I cried the whole time.

My adolescence is full of those memories. Of holding everything together, keeping my siblings happy and fed and occupied (by turning on the tv) and then locking myself in my room to cry by myself and eat.

This is what I carry around with me every day. I am lugging this enormous, bulky, heavy garbage bag full of stuff that I don't want but can't seem to get rid of. I wonder if there was a time in my life when I felt like I needed it. Like it was my cross to bear and I couldn't let it go. Now though, now that I'm trying to go after the things I want - healthy friendships, a romantic relationship someday, a family of my own - now I can see that I need to let it go. I don't need it anymore and I don't want it.

But this is what I'm trying to overcome. This eleven year old lonely little girl who just lost her father and wants someone to love her and protect her and care for her.

Food is what I turn to for comfort. It's what I used when I needed love and couldn't find it. It was my friend when I didn't have any. And here I am, thirty-two years old, trying to move away from my sadness and food is still what I turn to when I get sad news about my brother. Is it because family stuff takes me right back to being eleven years old and turning to food because that's all I could find? Maybe. But it's not the way it has to be, not anymore.

I woke up this morning still feeling full from last night. It was not a pleasant feeling, but I got up and went about doing things that would help me move on. I did laundry, went grocery shopping, made a healthy lunch, cleaned the kitchen. I plan on going for a long walk later, it's perfect fall weather and it will be good to clear my head.

I was reminded today how lucky I am. All of my siblings (minus one) checked in with me to see how I was. All of them told me and showed me they love me and reminded me that I am loved and that it's okay to put myself first now. I don't have to hide behind a locked door and cry and eat. I can take care of myself and be kind to myself. I am so grateful to be loved by my beautiful family and to have a family to love.