I was teased often, usually called short and "four eyes," things that I learned to laugh at even if it hurt at the time. Some of my family would call me fat or pudgy. My Chinese nickname that I've grown up with, something only my family calls me, literally means "pig." They would tease me whenever they saw me eating, calling me "pig" again and again. The White/American side of my family likes to remember one particular Thanksgiving when I took a special liking to one of my relative's holiday specialty, creamed corn. And I'm not going to lie and say that I wasn't a chubby child. I did have an eating problem. I was depressed so often and I buried those feelings with food.
I had been so unsatisfied with my life. I was surrounded with constant negativity from different people, and the things some people said and did (even if they didn't mean to) had a way of hurting.
Starting mid-way through my freshman year of high school, I got sick of everything the way it was. I ditched my glasses for contacts. I developed an eating problem - or disorder if you will. I started only eating one NutriValley pack (which contains two thin granola bars) a day and that was it. Whenever my family went out to eat, I would go home and, as quietly as I could, make it come back up in the bathroom. Surprisingly, I never got caught doing this.
People did notice that I was losing weight. My sophomore year, I was the thinnest I had ever been. I dropped 25-30 pounds and managed to keep my weight down. Some of my relatives actually started complaining to me about it, telling me that I needed to eat more - something I will never understand, since merely months before that they were telling me to eat less. This upset me the most. I felt like I couldn't do anything right in their eyes. They wanted me to lose weight and I lost the weight, but then they turned around and wanted me to gain it back?
I started spiraling out of control. Despite being thinner than I'd ever been, I was still quite unhappy with my life. I even began hurting myself in different ways.
It wasn't until I started meeting the right people and seeing that I wasn't alone that I started getting better. Since then, it's been a slow upward climb. Friends that I made have come and gone, but my life now has been 10,000 times better than it used to be, and I'll always be grateful for the few kind people that I've known.
I've learned that, even though you think something like starving yourself or hurting yourself, might make you happy or ok again, it really doesn't. These things are never the answer. Permanent happiness comes from learning to love yourself - I've made a short little blog post about this, so if you'd like to check that out, click on the link and it'll take you to it - and taking care of yourself.
That's my answer for today's post.