Yea, I’m talking to you. I see you, lurking, trying to sneak in and come back and get me in your good graces and then lure me with your powers. I know all about you. I know how you trick my mind and play the game and convince me into believing eating just this one thing is ok. I get you now. The gig is up. You can’t fool me anymore.
Ok I admit I’m scared to death of you. Like every morning when I wake up and I look in the mirror stripped down to nothing to make sure you haven’t come back in the night. All 275 pounds of you could be staring at me and today might be the day you return. Every day for almost 12 years now I’ve feared you like one would fear their worst enemy coming for them. So I stand sideways and front ways and turn around with a rear view mirror just to make sure you aren’t creeping up on me. Sometimes I see you slowly having your way with me and I panic and pinch an inch and curse you and vow to fight you with every ounce of strength I have. I will never allow you to take over again. Sorry, but you will lose every time, because I’m on to you. My trust for you is gone and in it’s place is my commitment that I will recognize you every time you try and force your way in.
I guess that a part of me accepts that you were there for a reason. Maybe lots of reasons but mostly because you became something to fight against when my life was in need of a new resolve to survive. My heart was so broken and I understand that you needed a drug and food was it. I get that, and truly the drug is still so powerful in my life that it’s a daily battle of wills. But the difference between you and me is that I understand my addiction and I can face it head on whenever it starts to present itself. The difference is that I know that my health is paramount to Pat and the boys having a sense of security and they deserve that from me. But wow, I wasted so much time shoving down the hurt with the drug and I almost destroyed both of us.
I remember the day the resolve came to be, when you and I decided enough was enough. When we realized the doctor was right, our health was so bad that we probably wouldn’t live to see 50. I mean, in three more years I could be dead according to that prediction. You and I teamed up though, didn’t we? We weren’t always enemies, yet it was time for a truce, even if only a brief one. We couldn’t be allies for long, but we had a mission that only the two of us together could accomplish. It was something to see us get together and make a good decision about our lives. You were selfless in wanting to be better knowing it meant you had to leave and I was born again to be what I once was. All at the same time. I was re-born and you were left behind. And I know that’s so hard for you. I know you want to come back and shove down the feelings with the food until it hurts so bad that you just shove in some more to numb the pain.
I have to tell you straight out: gone are the days of getting up at 1:00 A.M. when everyone is sleeping and you would tiptoe to the refrigerator looking for anything you could get your hands on. Peanut butter and jelly’s two or three followed by huge glasses of milk followed by cheese sandwiches followed by more milk followed by ice cream and cookies and if there was none of that then even ketchup sandwiches would do. It hurt so bad but you always wanted more, it was never enough. Keep shoving and shoving until all you could think about was the pain and the feelings and oh my God Paulie’s gone and I miss him so much…. no just eat more and it won’t hurt, at least not like that.
Gone are the days when you would sometimes go back to old ways of getting rid of it. That secret tactic of water running to hide the gruesome noise of it coming back up. But ugh it tastes so gross so maybe tomorrow I’ll just keep it down and go back to sleep with a stomach in so much pain. Back and forth it went. You didn’t want to purge sometimes because then you had to think about everything that was too sad to think about. But sometimes purging was the only way to get more down. And so it continued for so long.
Oh and how about when Pat found all those empty cake boxes and cookie packages and empty ice cream pints under the bed? Stupid ass! You forgot to throw them out and he was on to you. And when he walked in on you one afternoon when the house was quiet and he came home early and he saw your finger in your throat over the toilet. And the other times that same thing happened and he loved you so much but didn’t know what to do or say. How he looked at you with such love and you couldn’t understand why he would love such a fat ass who was so messed up even though everyone else thought you were so together. I mean, how long did you think you could keep this up?
Until we teamed up, you and I, arch enemies on the battlefield and decided to that it was okay to want to live. That if we both continued this way we would surely die a young death and the boys would always know what a coward their mother was. It was a momentous time for us to decide to live. I mean, with blood sugars between 250-600 on any given day and no amount of insulin making a difference we had to face it together. What would we do? It was too big for us to just change on our own. You had tried years ago before the worst day of our life to get therapy. Once you read that article about “Binge Eating Disorder” and realized it had a name you did go to therapy to try and do something to stop. But I wasn’t there with you then and so it was not successful. I’m so sorry for that, but I wasn’t ready. But then, finally, we got together, a meeting of the binge eating minds and we decided to deal with the problem before it was too late.
I guess I have to thank you, even though I hate you. Thank you for being just strong enough to call to me and tell me you were too tired to continue your quest to destroy me. Thank you for reaching for me and asking for my help, and for finding it in you to understand that there was still life to live and joy to be had.
I guess I don’t hate you after all.
You were the only me that Paulie ever knew, and there’s beauty in that. How can I hate you?
Dear 275 pound me: I miss you, I miss the comfort you provided in not feeling the pain, but I thank you for never looking back at me when I do my morning mirror check. I know you’re lurking, but thank you for letting me be stronger than you, and for only letting me see a glimpse of who you are, as reminder of what once was and to never let you back. Thank you for being in important part of my journey.
Dear 150 pound me: thank you for being the reflection I see staring back at me. Thank you for being re- born and saving me. I am so grateful, and will always remember to be kind to you by making sure it’s you I see every day. I love you.
Vicki Kelly 