We’ve all played hide-and-seek as a child. Some of us better and seeking than hiding; Some of us better at hiding than seeking. The latter is where my mastery lays.
This concept of hiding has been on my mind for the last few weeks, enough to pull me out of my hiatus from writing.
There are so many pieces that my anorexia is comprised of, but I feel like a significant part of it has to do with feeling, being, staying, and wanting to be “hidden”.
Since I was in elementary school I was embarrassed and horrified of showing any feelings that weren’t happy or neutral. For one, I didn’t want to upset anyone around me, and for another I didn’t want to be judged or “get in trouble” for being “overly emotional” and “out of control”.
Throughout the years, I correlated emotions with shame and found that expressing them brought me more despair than relief. Both my brother and I grew up being told that once you became “too excitable” with your feelings, then you’ve lost the battle. (What battle? Good question…)
My kid brother was a crier, and boy did he have a temper! He was quite explosive and would often burst into angry tears while destroying the thing that was pissing him off. Meanwhile, I’d quickly and quietly clean up his mayhem not wanting to upset my mother who, most likely, would contribute to my brother’s path of destruction, by yelling at him, and blahblahblah…
In these instances, I wanted to camouflage into the walls and didn’t want her to notice me fearing would be at fault for something.
Ironically, I’ve had so many instances when I didn’t want to remain hidden in someone else’s shadow, because I wanted, and most likely needed, to be noticed and acknowledged; Not for getting good grades, or accomplishing a task, but just for being a caring and patient individual. Being such a painfully shy and quiet kid, I was often taken advantage of, bullied, and had things stolen from me. Not only material items, but creative ideas and kind gestures that I came up with. My “friends” were garnering all the attention and receiving positive comments from this thing that was mine. Instead of speaking up, I cowardly clammed up several feet away from the others, refusing to open my mouth because I knew if I did, the only thing that would spill out would have been tears from my eyes, and that was NOT okay.
Did I win the battle?! At least I was in control? Well, not really, because bottling everything up did result in destructive behavior, thus making me feel like I was a failure at keeping it together. Additionally I felt like an abnormal freak and found myself wanting to, and needing to, hide even more of myself.
Keeping my emotions tightly hidden and locked away has allowed me to protect myself from emotional and physical distress. There’s an incredibly twisted way I view relationships with others: I will hurt myself before you do. Let me manage my own pain – don’t touch me. I’ve been wounded multiple times before, how do I trust that this will not be the same?
When I see this written out, it sure sounds f**ked up. If I step outside of myself for a hot minute, I feel curious and saddened by how this individual came to such a harsh conclusion. I also hope this person will find a safe place/person/moment/time/outlet to explore and heal these wounds. Of course, I was stepping outside of myself, thus the previous statements do not apply to the person who is currently speaking…writing…
So, do I ever have feelings? Of course I do. As robotically in-control as I wanted to be, I am apparently of the humankind and some things are beyond the scope of my command. I’ve just learned how to hide them (as I do with my body), run away from them (as I do with weight restoration and maintenance) or push them aside (as I do with food) to deal with when I feel safe and ready.
But when am I “safe and ready” and how do I know when I am? The irony and contradiction of wanting to stay hidden and seen at the same time is so incredibly confusing and painful to sort through in this recovery process.
Trying to make sense of it all is as difficult as untangling 100 dainty necklace chains – how do you unravel it all without breaking a link?
If you have any suggestions, anything that’s worked for you, please, let me know.
Super NED 
as a child I was afraid of adding to familial problems and being a problem. I hid my pain until it became too much and I couldn’t hide my emotions any longer. As they continue to pour out 10 plus years later, I feel like my fear has become my reality. I am the problem. So I can relate. My family tells me they can’t validate my feelings, but I have to remind myself that even though they don’t agree with them they are still true for me, and are completely honest. When I need validation I reach out to friends who know me and ask what they think about my situation. Most times they understand and reassure me that my feelings are common and natural. And I have to validate myself, I may have misunderstood a conversation and my feelings may be based off that distortion but those feelings are still honest.
Lastly, someone told me when I’m thinking about the past and dwelling on who I was early on in my disorder (personality wise, behavior wise , and body size), or my past experiences, I can remind myself that , that is no longer my reality. It’s really helped me to remember that I can acknowledge what my disorder did for me, the comfort it provided, how it helped me survive when I was drowning, but my circumstance have changed and I have changed- I don’t have to live in the past any longer. Those experiences where valuable in away but I don’t have to be defined by them anymore. At the same time I don’t have to forget them. I say this to myself also. I hope this helps. So your past is not your (present) reality.
LikeLike