Holidaze

See what I did there ^^^^

I kick off the holidays with my best friend coming to visit me from Idaho.  It's the one week of the year that I get to see her and it's pretty rad.  Let's just say what we have a good time.

What gets difficult is the food.  There's so much of it, and I often find that it's a trigger to not take my insulin.  Here's the scary part.  

I've moved beyond consciously skipping insulin.  

I know that I sound like a freaking nut job, but it's the truth.  My brain jumps to a place that makes me forget.  It's a self sabotaging thing.  I'm trying more and more to overcome this.  When I do, I feel like I'm constantly fighting this thought about gaining weight.

Then there's Facebook.  I logged on and my feed was overwhelmed by status messages that all said things about eating too much, gaining weight, dieting, and hitting the gym.  What pushed me over the edge was the following comment

"I ate a lot.  It's bad news when the fat pants aren't fat anymore :("

The author of this comment?  My mother.

Mom- if you ever happen to read this blog I apologize for what I'm writing.  I love you and I know that my journey has been frustrating and scary for you as well.  I am not trying to slap you in the face with this, but I have to say this somewhere.  Maybe if you do read this, you will understand me more.  I'm not sorry that I'm writing this but I am sorry if it hurts you.

She received supportive messages that all contained woman beating themselves up about eating one meal.  I would like to point out it's the one day a year that she's not dieting.  ONE DAY.

I truly believe that my mother suffers from eating disordered thinking.  I grew up with overweight parents my whole life.  Their inability to accept themselves effected their attitudes towards the foods that I ate immensely.  I wasn't allowed to eat unless they were hungry.  They told me that because I was smaller than them, that there was no way I could be hungry if they weren't.  I snuck food a lot and felt embarrassed whenever I was hungry.

Then my parents got divorced and my mother refused to get out of bed.  She barely ate and when she did it was in adherence to a strict Atkins diet.  In a matter of months she lost 70lbs.  Losing that weight along with the divorce changed her.

To this day she's always telling me to eat less carbs and I'll be okay.  I try to explain to her that low carb dieting is not going to cure my diabulimia.  I will still deal with the fact that I have an eating disorder.  

She doesn't think I have an eating disorder.  In her mind, I don't take care of myself on purpose.  I suffer from some sort of victim mentality that I will be able to overcome if I just accept the fact that I have a disease that I need to take care of.  She's told me before that I can literally change overnight if I just turn the switch on that says "hey I can take care of my diabetes."

I've tried to explain what it's like.  I've tried to speak up so many times.  She can't comprehend triggers or the feeling of a piece of pizza.  What she doesn't know is that she lives this too, it's just manifested differently.

I am trying very hard to overcome disordered thinking.  Most importantly, I am trying to accept my body for what it is.  It feels hard to do that when I can't get my own mother to understand.

Oh yea and she's visiting in two weeks.