Hey everyone! I thought for my #introduceyourself post, I'd tell you about my journey that will hopefully inspire you and help you if you're going through a tough time.
My parents got divorced when I was 4 years old. My childhood was divided against 2 parents who were always telling me how terrible the other one was. My mom would tell me how bad my dad was and my dad would blame every problem on my mom. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I found out my mom was the truthful one, as moms usually are :)
Anyway, it was a few years after my parents split that I started getting fat. My mom, bless her heart, always called me "husky" but I have the pictures... I was more than husky! At this point, the vicious cycle of mental and physical abuse from my father started. See, I started getting fat because my dad was a hard-ass that always told me and my younger brother "If you don't like what we have for dinner then don't eat." You can probably imagine the toll that took on a 7 year old boy who was an hour away from his mom.
I would hide food in my suitcase, stuff myself at my mom's house before I left for the weekend, and even took samples and candy bars from grocery stores to make sure I wouldn't be hungry. I was scared, hungry, and felt extremely alone.
As I started putting on weight, my dad used to constantly tell me about it. He'd call me fat, porky, chubby, and told me I needed to exercise more. He'd make me eat differently from him and his girlfriend at dinner. I remember one time he took us to the grocery store and let me pick what I wanted for dinner. I picked Beefaroni from Chef Boyardee (do they even still exist?!) because the picture just looked so good! Well, I didn't like the taste and told my dad. He yelled at me so much for wasting his money on food and that I didn't get dinner.
Long story short, I was finally allowed to stop seeing my dad about 3 or 4 years later but the abuse and maltreatment stuck with me. I gained more weight through middle school and my early years of high school. I had low self esteem, no confidence, and even though I tried to keep a smile on the outside I felt dead on the inside.
I felt so dead I wanted the pain to stop more than anything. When I was 15 I took one of my mom's steak knives and tried to kill myself. I sat on the kitchen floor underneath our table crying because I was afraid of dying but I was in so much mental anguish that I wanted it to stop. My mom came home from work, saw me, and immediately enrolled me in suicide counseling.
I remained in depression and suicide for counseling for 7 more years, trying 1 more time to kill myself by swallowing a bottle of aspirin. Luckily my fear of dying kept me from taking too many at once and my friend found me before I could finish off the bottle.
That was me then... Fast forward 5 more years and I'm in a great spot. I've met a ton of great, influential, and helpful people both in and out of therapy. I've read dozens of personal growth books by Jim Rohn, Tony Robbins, John Maxwell, Les Brown, and countless others. I've learned to love myself, my life, my family, and my friends. I've learned to have a new appreciation for the little things - the soft smell of Arizona monsoons, the vibrant colors of vegetables at the farmer's market, the radiant love from a good friend's hug, and the gentle adornment from my puppy Hercules :)
If you're going through a rough patch, I urge you to keep going. It sounds cliche, but it REALLY DOES get better. I still get depressed and sad but I walk through the fire and brimstone confidently and I always make it out the other side. You CAN and you WILL too. Reach out to loved ones, friends, and family members and ask for help. They WANT to help you. It took me years to believe that.
Remember: It'll all work out in the end. If it doesn't work out, it's not the end :)
A small thing that is a bad memory for one person is a good memory for another.
In my case, your mention of those canned goods from Chef Boyardee bring back fond memories. My parents used to leave me alone in the apartment even as young as six or seven because they trusted me to be a good boy. My mom even taught me how to cook for myself -- how to operate the stove, the can opener, toaster, etc. Well, whenever I was left alone and had to fend for myself, I just opened a can of beefaroni (and they also had the circular ones, forgot what they were called), poured the contents into a sauce pan, toasted a couple slices of bread, and voila! A full meal!
Spaghettio's!
Thanks for sharing your story and reassuring others with depression that it can get better. I know that black hole; I'm glad you climbed out. I like your sentence about appreciating the little things, but was the word adornment perhaps not what you really meant?
Nope lol definitely makes no sense. Have no idea what I was trying to type! Let's just call it cuddling?
I'm really happy that eventually things got better for your!
Hope nothing but the best for you.
-Yonatan
Same to you Yonatan!
@mgombrich Thank you for sharing your story with us. It was very educational. You can out if the fire so to speak with scrapes and dents now you are encouraging others, that's wonderful. Not really sure if you are still fighting with food but removing processed foods and extra sugar from your diet will help a lot. Best wishes. 🌸
Not quite. I'm a Certified Nutritionist ;)
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don't bother with the comments from account that has this low reputation, all they do is to bring negativity to the community. Thats why I flagged the comment. I think your post was an honest and good post.
Thanks. After the next reply they had I'm just ignoring it :)