8 Year old Beast

The reason for these series of blogs is not to cause harm to anyone, to bring shame or even embarrassment. But to release. Release those who have gone through similar tragedies and made similar mistakes as I, release those who stood by and watched me deteriorate piece by piece with no idea as to what was truly happening and how to help. To release those who have hurt me.

 It took me years to even admit that people have in fact hurt me. This is for you guys too. This is also to release people who know others who are on a similar journey as myself. It is not easy for loved ones to view the shattered pieces of the people they love, believe it or not. Lastly, and not least; this is to release my broken heart and the part of my subconscious that will not allow me to show any sign of hurt or pain. The thought that I must never show irritation or trouble, that I must instead behave like a Stepford wife. I must not display the endurance of affliction but I must be afflicted, in silence. Allowing those who have bruised me internally to continue to peacefully live their lives whilst I hide under my bed with a sheet of depression covering my head, tormented and scarred. I deserve this release because I worked for it. I fought for it. And regardless of who does or does not believe it- this release is in fact mine.

Okay so this is my very first blog.

If you told me this time last week, I would be sitting here writing about the most difficult parts of my life, I would never have believed you. I am without a doubt the most private person I know. But what I am writing about could have killed me and I am aware of the seriousness.
As you can tell from the title- I did have an eating disorder for 8 years and I managed to hide it from the world. This was done for a number of reasons; reason number one being- I did not know I had one. How can you get help for an issue if you don't even know it is a problem?

It began when I was 10 years old. I am half Nigerian and half Jamaican and I was always quite big. When I was a toddler, my dearest mum would constantly check my nappy (diaper) for poop because it was always looking very full. To her surprise it would be empty and she would always shake her head in confusion and send me on my merry way. For those who haven't managed to work out why she would do this- it was because I have a big bum. She thought my big bum was in fact a nappy of poop.

So as the years went by I had gotten bigger and thicker and taller and stronger. I was able to beat most of the boys at arm wrestlers and all the girls. I even managed to get quite good at sports. It wasn't before long adults would comment on my physique- men and women. Church aunties telling me how big  I looked. Nigerian family members comparing me to older women in the family with gigantic rear ends. But it all did not bother me.
But then the children started.
At aged 10 the comments of my physical appearance became a little more sinister. Older men would now treat me as if I was older, teenage boys would approach me thinking I was also a teen and refusing to believe I was still a child. Lastly the name-calling started.

It started relatively small, but before I knew it- I could no longer eat at lunch time with the other children because I was scared of being big. That turned into my fear of eating in public. I thought if I was seen eating, the other children would begin to tease me. This started to get worse when I turned 11 and the fear of eating took me into high school. I would constantly avoid being in the lunch hall as it meant I would be surrounded by food. I began to dread the thought of lunch times because I knew I would have to make up excuses of not joining my friends in this sociable hour. "I have a stomach ache"or "I have studying to do", sometimes it was even "this line is too long- I cant be bothered to wait," These comments would find me scurrying away as quickly as possible before questions could be asked,
I became so fixated on how I looked that I began to work out an awful lot. By age 13 I had a six pack- which some may say is great, but with the fear of food- this was not ideal.

This continued through to my first couple of weeks living away at university. At 18 years old I faced the dilemma of living with 4 other ladies who all loved food and liked to eat together. 

One day I had reached my limit and had been sick of avoiding food. So I sat down for dinner and I ate a pizza with my flatmates. I remember it so clearly- as if it was yesterday, I sat in the room and took a piece by piece and put it in my mouth. And although it was hard to swallow at first- it will always be one of the most memorable meals of my life. It was the meal that told me I could change for the better. I struggled to swallow- but my GOD I did it. Each gulp was myself taking a step closer to overcoming my fear of food. Each mouthful was me telling my negative views of myself that I will no longer be bound by negative body image. And with the half eaten pizza on the plate- I knew that by the grace of GOD I will be a survivor in life; regardless of what is in front of me or for how long it had been there. That 8 year old eating disorder no longer had any hold over me.
I decided to start sharing my stories in the new year.When I spent some time in fasting and prayer contemplating my journey- I began to jot things down. But then it hit me. I had an eating disorder for 8 years and not one person noticed. None of my friends noticed they never saw me eat in all those years. Nobody noticed my weight loss and my clear body dysmorphia. Did no body care? Did not one person care enough to notice?

If you are going through anything in life and you question if anyone cares- I can tell you right now... GOD cares. And that is the reason why You, Mr/Miss Survivor- are still here.