My whole truth

I was the fat kid growing up, and my peers delighted in informing me of such at every possible opportunity. I tried to change,

I tried SO hard.

But failure after failure, I hated sport and I hated being teased and when I felt sad the mars bars didn’t tease me, so from about year three I had the skill of comfort eating down to a fine art.

By the time I reached age 15 the teasing had reached epic proportions and so had my weight. I was 75kg and quite short, I hit breaking point and decided to do something about it, the world wanted me to lose weight so lose weight I would.

Around 3 months later I weighed in at 55kgs and I did 500 sit ups in the morning and 500 at night. The teasing continued fatty boombah, thunder thighs and the like – god these people were so hard to please.

But I had to please them.

So I didn’t eat over 10 calories per day and even then I had to run or walk them off ASAP I had to be in minus calories, I couldn’t swim them off though - I was far too fat to be seen dead in a bathing suit. More sit ups.

42kgs.

I was a vegetarian so I did all my own cooking and became an expert in eating two bites and hiding the rest in the compost bin, a little bit under the top layer so nobody could see. Lying became second nature and I wouldn’t cook anything in the kitchen when my mother was in there because I was terrified she would poison me by adding oil or butter to my foods.

She didn’t understand how important it was for me to be thin. I HAD to be thin.

Mid way through year 10 I was expertly maintaining my 42kg frame, by not eating and lots of walking even though it was getting harder to run because I would pass out so easily – oh well no pain no gain they always say.

I had a steady group of genuine friends, but I didn’t care that they didn’t think I was fat, because they were real friends I naturally assumed they were lying to me to make me feel better. But I found one friend through all this, who was just like me – a little bit fucked up and desperate to lose weight.

 I egged her on, I showed her how to lie to parents and friends to make it appear you are eating when you aren’t, I taught her how to count calories and how to push past the exhaustion point when you are exercising.

 She hit 39kg and over took me, she HAD to over take me she was competing, and I started to realise what was happening as we tried on clothes in Supre one day and they were all miles to big for her.

 She ended up in the hospital I had always managed to evade through my lies and empty promises. A drip up her nose force feeding her as she screamed.

 I will never forgive myself for what I did to her.

She has been in and out of hospitals with mental health issues ever since, if you are a regular reader you will have seen my posts about her.

When I went to school one day shortly after my friend was hospitalized, a kid who had teased me mercilessly since year 7 called me a 'skinny bitch' and 'why don’t I go eat something?'.

I got so angry about how I had lost all this weight to please them and maybe gain their friendship and they didnt even care that I ended up getting into a fight with a different kid that afternoon when she put grass down another friend’s top, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back I guess. I punched her in the face and never went back to school.

 Ever.

The place where I was working casually on weekends took me on full time and about 6 months later I moved out of home, by that time I had gained a little bit of weight and was around a size 7-8, I didn’t like it but it no longer occupied every thought. I met the man I am now married to and have since gained and lost weight fairly yo-yo style, but I have had 4 kids in that time too.

I still think about my weight, but I will eat the profiteroles on offer and my desire to have less Mc Donald’s is more related to the health benefits than the fat grams themselves. I haven’t owned a set of scales for around 5 years and I prefer it that way, it doesn’t let me dwell.

I am so thankful to have a wonderful husband who loves me for who I am, has never tried to change me and never will. I am lucky that it all worked out for me and I escaped the cycle that so many people live in everyday.

I wrote this as posts related to school yard bullying and its lasting effect have been floating round the blogosphere the last few days “madam bipolar” & “the things I’d tell you” to name a few.

While I don’t blame the kids that teased me for what happened and I know that I had choices, I do feel that the long term impact of bullying is often underestimated and it’s a topic that needs more awareness.  

Have you been impacted by bullying?

Healing Hands

This is kind of a recount of something special I witnessed when visiting my friend in the mental health unit the other day....

Healing Hands

The daisies underneath the weeping willow were closing as the shadows of nightime began to fall outside the window of the tiny room.

Amongst the dust and grandmotherly chairs, an old wooden piano stood out, its beauty finally brought to life after waiting patiently in the same spot for years with nothing for company but the old grandfather clock.

Music echoed through the hallways, beatiful enchanting music - And they came.

Like rat's to the pied piper, the people had followed and soon the doorway was filled with an audience of the scared the overwhelmed and the lonely.

Brought together in this moment, they had gathered with unanimous awe for the young man sitting at the old piano, playing without written notes to reflect upon.

A small bead of sweat ran down the dark skin of the young doctor as his fingers hit the keys, the passion he felt through his semi closed eyes radiated to the world around him, and people wondered aloud if perhaps he had missed his true calling.

A wave of calm and serenity washed over the unlikely audience and they were one, the failings of life temporarily forgotten.

The music stopped suddenly and the young doctor arose from his chair, momentarily embarrassed by his onlookers, he smiled and walked out of the room quickly, his healing hands had other work to do.


Do you sometimes find beauty in unexpected places?

A Chance for New Beginnings

The rain pelted down heavily as I searched for the entrance, damn I must have missed it. I kept driving straight for a while squinting through the twighlight and fog on my windscreen for a safe place to turn around. I hate driving in unfamiliar areas, particularly in these conditions and even more so for the reasons I was going there.

I found my turn and proceeded to work my way through the maze of cars until I found a car park comfortably close to the building but solitary all the same.

I put on the hand brake and reviewed the text message sitting open on my phone for a minute, ‘Hey, don’t freak out but I’m in the hospital...’ I closed my eyes for a second took a deep breath and got out of the car.

I was prepared to make the mad dash through the rain, but it forgivingly turned to drizzle as I headed towards the big red EMERGANCY sign appearing to flash in the halo of glare that had formed around it. I entered the door to the right, as I had been instructed and was greeted by a labyrinth of shiny corridors.

I approached a desk towards the end with a middle aged blonde women sitting behind it, ‘2N?’ I enquired nervously ‘Through those doors love’ she smiled back warmly. The heavy double wooden doors loomed ominously ahead, the words ‘Mental Health’ written in a matter of fact manner on the front. Another deep breath.

The world through those wooden doors was a busy one, it was dinner time and the clanking of the trays on metal carts an ever present reminder of your surroundings, any thoughts that it could be a regular hospital ward were slightly overshadowed by the people.

They looked lost, the people- it struck me that most of them were men. One was sitting against a wall staring into space, another walking around talking and laughing to people only he could see. It felt very revealing being there, like I was exposed somehow, intruding into their secret pain.

A nurse found my friend for me, she was sitting in the courtyard smoking, looking weary, but kind of peaceful and a damn sight better than the last time this had happened that’s for sure. We made our pleasantries as we do when we don’t know quite what to say to each other. She motioned me to sit in the covered area and she went to get us coffee.

 The setting was very different to inside, calm, healing – fitting, I suppose.  I could see why she preferred it.

Wind chimes and mosaic sculptures hung from the trees twirling hypnotically in the breeze, the small garden beds filled with lavender and herbs mixed aromatically with the smell of the rain. Bamboo screens sheltered the area from the visual noise of the car park but the streetlights still shone down, bright yet peaceful, their light reflecting gently off the leaves of Large Japanese Maples.

My friend returned with the coffee, and some biscuits, we talked about how she had come here, what had happened, and what should happen next. I felt a lot more hope this time, and so did she.

 Unlike last time, her arrival had not been a traumatic ride in the back of an ambulance fighting for the life she didn’t want to have, but instead holding the hands of her mother and her boyfriend with a referral from the doctor. This time, it seems her pleas for help may have been answered.