Alone

When I was a child, I spent a lot of time alone. I got used to it. I had to. My mom was usually gone with my stepdad and my sister so I was the only one left in the house. There were times when I would be alone for days. It's hard to know how I felt about this. I don't think I let myself think about it. All I know is that my household consisted of two conditions: utter quiet when I was alone and complete chaos and a LOT of yelling when my mom and stepdad were home. When they were home, I lashed out at them. I started arguments with them. I avoided them as much as possible. I was so angry, mostly at my mother. She was my mother and she was leaving me to fend for myself more times than not. When I was alone, I was numb to everything. I numbed myself by watching a lot of tv and of course, I ate. I ate a lot. We also had problems with money. So when there was food in the house, it meant we were okay. It meant we weren't going to starve and it meant I was taken care of. Food didn't leave you. Food didn't abandon you. Food didn't yell at you or tell you that you were such a horrible person that your own mom didn't want to be around you. (That came from my stepfather.)

Fast forward to my adult years and I still don't like to be alone. This week without Boy Wonder has been really rough. I still feel like that angry kid who's furious at her mother for abandoning her. Does that make sense? I haven't even been able to talk to him in two days because of the time difference. He hasn't been able to catch me. So then I get furious at him for not calling me at the right times. I feel abandoned and I feel scared and I feel alone. I also feel stupid because I'm twenty-seven years old and I still have the emotions of a thirteen year old. This may be because I never dealt with them before. So for the past two days, I've been doing what I did back then. I have been numbing myself with food. I've been numbing myself in front of the tv. I haven't had the energy to get up and exercise or do anything. If I could have blown off all my clients today, I would have. All I wanted to do was lay in Boy Wonder's bed and cry and sleep. Oh, and eat. Sounds heavenly. Or not.

Last night, I was scared that someone would break into Boy Wonder's house. It was the middle of the night and I woke up when I heard a strange sound. It didn't matter that the doors were locked. I just thought there was someone in the house. It reminded me of the time when I was alone as a child and I had that same thought. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and thinking I heard someone trying to get into my house. I remember being terrified and wishing that I had someone there to protect me.

I need to learn to forgive my mistakes and acknowledge my successes. Okay, my mistake was that I ate about 10,000 calories in two days (that's a rough estimate). My success was that I felt like taking out my anger on Boy Wonder, but I didn't. I wanted to send him a sarcastic email or leave an angry voicemail on his cell so that he would hear it the minute he got back in the country. But I didn't. Six months ago, I probably would have. This is what therapy does.

The book that I just finished reading says "Compulsive eating is the cast, not the wound." That is so profound and so true. Until I acknowledge all the feelings I have tried to stuff with eating, I will never get it under control.