Out of Darkness
Out of Darkness Emerges Beauty
Out of Darkness
“Words are the most powerful drug used by mankind.” (Rudyard Kipling)
As a young teenager I had a series of events occur in my life rather abruptly that left me feeling lonely, desolate, and depressed. As a way of coping, I developed several unhealthy coping mechanisms, one of them being an undiagnosed eating disorder, which was fueled by my inability to control anything in my life, rather meager coping skills, and lack of a support system.
The following story may be triggering for those who suffer from disordered eating and those who care for them. I share this story now because I have been traversing this landscape with a loved one and I have been reflecting on my own journey as a healing ritual.
It began with my beloved mother and only caretaker being diagnosed with cancer and when she shared this with her husband, he left us. I was close to this person, his family, and his only daughter who I had come to feel was a sister. The sudden loss of these relationships along with my mother’s diagnosis left me feeling desolate and scared. What would I do if my mom died?
Socially, I had always struggled. I had few close friends and rarely opened myself to others. I was holding onto myself with tape and glue it seemed for most of my life. I never felt secure, worthy of attention, or heard. I learned early in my life that I was a good story- teller and this was my shell, to make others laugh, be happy, be fulfilled, and alive. These were not the words for my life. I was hidden away.
Recently though, I had connected with some peers who I was opening to and engaging in new terrain, but the news of my mom’s divorce and cancer threw us into economic uncertainty and a different socioeconomic class where I wouldn’t be with these individuals the way I had been. Coupled with these changes, I was in a fragile adolescent growth period of my life. I was always considered to be an “athletic” build and puberty was slow in coming to my body compared to my peers which left me feeling awkward and different. I began dabbling in the diet culture, thinking about our impending economic conditions, and I thought I could help control things by being less, weighing less, and needing less.
This was only reinforced by the teasing I endured from my male peers for looking less like my female peers. I smiled, laughed on the outside, and was crushed inside. This perfect storm coalesced when my paternal grandmother died, and no one knew how to reach me because we had moved once again. The darkness became darker despite my attempts to find ways to cope with all this uncertainty in my life. It was hidden away far from others.
The thoughts inside my head were centered around a swirling of not good enough, no one cares, why bother, who would notice and so on. They encompassed me day and night. I recently watched Disney Pixar’s new movie, “Soul” and the visual representation of the “lost souls,” was to say the least, accurate of my state at the time. Darkness over top of me, hidden inside were thoughts about myself and my feelings no one knew I spoke to myself, and the shell of the person visible to the outside world. It captured the utter self-loathing, depression, and inner hatred I was feeling towards myself. I finally confided all this to my mother.
In my mother’s style of living, she took me on a trip to see friends thinking this would help me. It was a trip that would be both healing and troubling. I found the strength to ask my mom if I could stay with this family. I saw there something I had never encountered and interiorly knew this was my open window. I know it had to be one of the hardest things for my mother to do for me, leave me, go home and work on her own health, and separate, but I am eternally grateful to her for her courage, strength, and love to grant my wishes. I needed something she could not give me and in turn the love this family offered me unconditionally to help me build a new beginning was the first step towards the light.
Unfortunately, my downward spiral continued as my eating disorder took over as a release from all the pain. I had such a dissatisfaction with my life that I found punishing myself was the only way I could breathe. I desperately wanted to be emptied out. I tortured myself with laxatives, restrictive eating, excessive exercise, and heaping unkind words upon myself. I continued the disassociation between who I felt I was and what I portrayed to the world for many, many, many years. While I varied the forms of abuse towards myself through college, nursing school, my career, and my marriage, the core of it was centered around the inability to recognize who I truly am.
Over the years I added more unhealthy strategies to my life: control, perfectionism, compassion fatigue, and isolation until my life fully hit bottom and I was so dysregulated that I had nowhere to hide anymore either from myself or others. I became immune to the inner workings of my mental chatter and suffered from hypervigilance daily. My nervous system was dysregulated and ready to fight or flee. The inner voice was so restrictive and punishing I lost myself, what I loved, my voice, my very being in the world, to the noise of it all.
I have had periods of time in my life where I came up for breath and learned to tone down the inner voice. In my journey to become an Integrative Nurse Coach, I learned about Non-Violent Communication developed by Dr. Marshall Rosenberg. I was fascinated by this type of compassionate communication and became a student, learning for the first time that this begins with how I talk to myself. What thoughts I allow into my core, what needs I have for myself and how to communicate and explore those needs.
Most recently over the past three years I have greatly healed the fractures in my mind, body, and spirit and feel freer, coherent, and intact. Non-Violent Communication techniques, yoga, self-care, self-reflection, and loving and validating myself are all the tools I am using as well as writing to calm the inner storm. While there is no way to “cure” myself, I am much more aware and I daily work on this issue. My disordered eating was not visible to anyone else except my mother, who knew me so intimately and loved me far beyond the universe. I like to say I was silently screaming for most of my life, and one day I will fully release that silent scream in a book.
If you or someone you care about is suffering from disordered eating regardless of physical size, I encourage you to reach out to the National Eating Disorder Organization to begin your journey.
https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline