For as long as I can remember, food has always been associated with happiness for me. I can't see a future where it's not something I do with no emotion tied to it. It was where I found joy and also where I found solace. Perhaps that explains why I've been overweight my whole life.
I don't know how to explain it but I guess the best I can do, is try.
When I was young, I was verbally abused by my father. For context, he was a bible thumping truck driver. Gone for several weeks and home for around five days. In the times he was home, I was living in fear. He would call me fat, belittle me and explain all the reasons I'm going to hell based on my life choices.
Even though I was still a kid, he made sure that at the end of the day, he was feared, which he saw as respected. Though I never respected him. Only a coward uses fear as a means to get results. It scared me and im scarred as an adult. A wrote a lot of dark (yes, *that* kind of dark) poetry and begged God to explain why I exist.
As an adult, I still have days where I ask God that same question but not because of my father. Instead, its because of what my father gave me, as a result of his actions. A gift.
I got anxiety and depression.
I wish I could say I had a handle on it but really, depending on the day, I get to find out just how much it's going to affect me. The actions of those around me decide heavily but also, my brain decides for me when I wake up as well.
So honestly, its a toss up. I pray for the best but always expect the worst. To steal from MJ in the newest Spiderman films, "If you expect disappointment, it won't be as much of a let down when things go wrong."
Right now, I work in customer service. I'm currently in a call center environment. Over the last few years, I've gone from a optimist, glass half full kinda guy to a realist, glass half empty person. It drains my mood and that doubled with the effects of covid (working from home; being alone), it's worsened my mental health.
I say all this to give you a back story of my life and its ties to food. I eat to find comfort in times of anxiety or depression. I eat to celebrate an occasion. I eat to cure my common boredom. Food is my escape.
Lately, Jennifer and I have been really trying to watch our food intake and make lifestyle changes. Its been hard for me to do the exercise but I stopped eating out so often and that coupled with giving up basically all soda (excluding the *rare* occasion), I have been doing good.
That being said, I recently got in some hot water at work this week and my go-to in high anxiety moments is to eat. However, I chose to do the opposite. I barely ate anything that day. Probably not the right response but I was proud of myself for not letting my emotions control my stomach. It was progress.
At the end of the day, I control my decisions. I am the master. Yet, I don't often feel that way. I hope one day that changes. Until then, just know that I am working hard at improving myself. Both physically and mentally.
Your mental health is, dare I say it, *more* important than anything else. Without your wits about you, you'll continue to hold onto those bad habbits.
So thanks dad for that. I'll live the rest of my life knowing that everything is harder because of how you tried to raise me. That every time I look in the mirror in disgust, its because of you. That every conversation with myself about why I'll never be enough, is because of you. That every bite I take makes me feel some amount of shame.
That's because of you.