When I was 14 I started my sophomore year of high school in Woodland Hills at an all girls, private, catholic high school.
It was the first time I felt safe in my entire life. It was wonderful.
I had lost weight and grown two inches over the summer between my freshman and sophomore years and so I started the year with a lot of confidence and excitement. My mother was finally okay with my appearance, which was a huge relief for me.
On my very first day I was nervous, but excited, just like we all are. But at the end of the day I was given a huge gift of friendship.
I was walking out of my last class of the day, world history, and I was so excited with all that we would be learning, but a bit sad because no one had really talked to me all day. As I was walking down the walkway a girl called my name from behind me. She had just stepped out of the world history room and this cute, tall, brown haired girl was calling my name. I was surprised, stopped and turned to talk to her.
Her name is Andrea and she has been a friend to me for so many, many years. We lose touch for a bunch of years and then we talk again. It's nice and amazing to me.
No matter who else I was friends with in High School I was always also friends with Andrea. She is kind and generous and so easy to talk to. She introduced me to my soul mate and husband, so I will always be grateful to her for that along with the gift of her friendship.
So while my home life was a nightmare I always could count on Andrea and run to her house when needed. Her friendship has meant so much to me. She is also the person who took photos of my friendships through high school. Without her picture taking I would have many fewer physical reminders of those days. I've always been a terrible photo taker and an grateful for Andrea's prowess in this area.
So this is one of the good things that happened to me as a child. I made a good friend. I had never really had one before and it was somewhat of a mystery to me as to how to navigate a true friendship. It was mostly Andrea being a good friend and keeping the lines of communication open or reaching out to me when I fell off the face of the earth.
From Andrea I learned that a big part of friendship is being there for someone and reminding them when they forget.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Being Hungry
My daughter was talking with me about crazy diet trends and photoshopping and I wanted to share this story, but since I'm trying not to unnecessarily traumatize her I remembered that I have this handy blog to share the story and she can be traumatized later.
One of my therapists was working with me on my middle school years and when she asked what my memories were of the time I just thought, "hungry."
I was on a strict diet from the time I was 10 until I was 15. I was eating 1,000 calories a day and I was always hungry.
To say that this left me with a poor body image is laughable. When your mom starts telling you how fat you are when you're 9 and puts you on a strict diet when you're 10 you develop body issues. To this day this is one of the aspects of my tragic childhood that is the hardest to let go of. I still have no real idea what I look like to other people and the fact that I had an undiagnosed adrenal gland disease for 10 years that caused me to gain weight regardless of what I ate has really left me reeling in the body love department.
I think that one of my greatest accomplishments as a mother is that my daughter has a positive body image, unfortunately my son has a mediocre body image, which makes me sad.
Anyway, as I will mention so many, many times, my mom was a child star. She acted in lots of big movies and wasn't a big name child actor, but enough of a star to have the trauma. Her mom told her she was fat her whole life and she decided to share the dysfunction with me.
I was told I was fat and would have to count calories and watch what I ate. This was a common theme for so many years and based on the "fat is bad" insanity of the 70s-80s that damage was done to both my body as well as my self image.
I was constantly put on a scale and no matter what I weighed I was told I was "fat." The really weird part of it is that my sister was considered the "pretty one" while I was the "smart one" but I was looking through childhood photos with my sister a moth ago and we looked the same.
I mean actually honest to god, the same. There were photos where we weren't sure which one was which. So I spent much of my childhood being told I was a fat pig and I looked exactly like my pretty sister. What the hell, right?!
My sister is just as smart as I am, but our mom needed something else to separate us, so why not make the younger kid feel stupid while she made the older kid feel fat.
So now I'm an adult who's been through so much therapy and ditched the crappy mom, but I'm still working on the body love. It's my self project for the next few years until I start to feel the love. My body has brought me two beautiful children and a lot of strength, but it will take work.
One of my therapists was working with me on my middle school years and when she asked what my memories were of the time I just thought, "hungry."
I was on a strict diet from the time I was 10 until I was 15. I was eating 1,000 calories a day and I was always hungry.
To say that this left me with a poor body image is laughable. When your mom starts telling you how fat you are when you're 9 and puts you on a strict diet when you're 10 you develop body issues. To this day this is one of the aspects of my tragic childhood that is the hardest to let go of. I still have no real idea what I look like to other people and the fact that I had an undiagnosed adrenal gland disease for 10 years that caused me to gain weight regardless of what I ate has really left me reeling in the body love department.
I think that one of my greatest accomplishments as a mother is that my daughter has a positive body image, unfortunately my son has a mediocre body image, which makes me sad.
Anyway, as I will mention so many, many times, my mom was a child star. She acted in lots of big movies and wasn't a big name child actor, but enough of a star to have the trauma. Her mom told her she was fat her whole life and she decided to share the dysfunction with me.
I was told I was fat and would have to count calories and watch what I ate. This was a common theme for so many years and based on the "fat is bad" insanity of the 70s-80s that damage was done to both my body as well as my self image.
I was constantly put on a scale and no matter what I weighed I was told I was "fat." The really weird part of it is that my sister was considered the "pretty one" while I was the "smart one" but I was looking through childhood photos with my sister a moth ago and we looked the same.
I mean actually honest to god, the same. There were photos where we weren't sure which one was which. So I spent much of my childhood being told I was a fat pig and I looked exactly like my pretty sister. What the hell, right?!
My sister is just as smart as I am, but our mom needed something else to separate us, so why not make the younger kid feel stupid while she made the older kid feel fat.
So now I'm an adult who's been through so much therapy and ditched the crappy mom, but I'm still working on the body love. It's my self project for the next few years until I start to feel the love. My body has brought me two beautiful children and a lot of strength, but it will take work.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Early Memories
One of my earliest memories is of being in my crib and playing with my busy box and lying in the sun. It's a nice memory.
Another early memory is of my beloved dog, Rastuss, getting hit by a car right in front of me when I was 3. See, you think it's all sappy good stuff and then BAM there's a dead dog.
I was playing in the front yard of my house on a busy street with my dad when my mom opened the front door and Rastuss ran out. I remember being happy to see him, but then he ran into the street right in front of a car and he was hit. I was screaming and my dad ran into the street to grab Rastuss, who bit him.
I remember wanting to run to the dog to see why my gentle, sweet doggie would be mean enough to bite.
So now my dad is screaming in pain, the dog is growling and snapping and I'm screaming. Pretty awesome, huh. Oh the good old days.
I remember their being chaos and an ambulance and some body came to get the dog and take him away. Dad went to the hospital and I wondered what kind of hospital Rastuss was going to. It was quite a surprise to learn that the dog was killed because he was dangerous. Remember this is what my mom told me, a 3 year old. I would let this moment of crappy parenting slip if I didn't learn that this was just the beginning in a string of crappy parenting by both of these people. yeah.
Another early memory is of my beloved dog, Rastuss, getting hit by a car right in front of me when I was 3. See, you think it's all sappy good stuff and then BAM there's a dead dog.
I was playing in the front yard of my house on a busy street with my dad when my mom opened the front door and Rastuss ran out. I remember being happy to see him, but then he ran into the street right in front of a car and he was hit. I was screaming and my dad ran into the street to grab Rastuss, who bit him.
I remember wanting to run to the dog to see why my gentle, sweet doggie would be mean enough to bite.
So now my dad is screaming in pain, the dog is growling and snapping and I'm screaming. Pretty awesome, huh. Oh the good old days.
I remember their being chaos and an ambulance and some body came to get the dog and take him away. Dad went to the hospital and I wondered what kind of hospital Rastuss was going to. It was quite a surprise to learn that the dog was killed because he was dangerous. Remember this is what my mom told me, a 3 year old. I would let this moment of crappy parenting slip if I didn't learn that this was just the beginning in a string of crappy parenting by both of these people. yeah.
A Way to Share Stories
I didn't tell my kids about my childhood until they asked specific questions. Fortunately they asked mostly general questions for quite a long time and young kids are self-focused enough that they didn't really think about my younger self.
My daughter started asking me questions around 5th grade and since I don't want to lie to them I answered them honestly with as little detail as possible.
You see, I try my best to be kind. I see the world as good and do my best to do good in the world. I don't have friends that are mean or cruel and since I'm an introvert I've done a pretty good job of isolating myself and by extension, my kids from the horrors of the world.
The fact that my childhood and young adulthood were full of horrible, awful, terrible things just doesn't seem likely. Hahahaha I say. So they asked questions and I answered and they soon learned to stop asking questions and assume that my childhood was horrible and they'd rather just focus on the now.
While I think that's a generally good plan, I do have stories I'd like to tell, stuff I'd like to share with them and whoever else might be interested.
Some of the stories will be good, I expect that lots of them will be cringe worthy, but at least they will be able to get a sense of me when they get older and I hope to be able to write with more humor than I might tell the story to them.
My daughter started asking me questions around 5th grade and since I don't want to lie to them I answered them honestly with as little detail as possible.
You see, I try my best to be kind. I see the world as good and do my best to do good in the world. I don't have friends that are mean or cruel and since I'm an introvert I've done a pretty good job of isolating myself and by extension, my kids from the horrors of the world.
The fact that my childhood and young adulthood were full of horrible, awful, terrible things just doesn't seem likely. Hahahaha I say. So they asked questions and I answered and they soon learned to stop asking questions and assume that my childhood was horrible and they'd rather just focus on the now.
While I think that's a generally good plan, I do have stories I'd like to tell, stuff I'd like to share with them and whoever else might be interested.
Some of the stories will be good, I expect that lots of them will be cringe worthy, but at least they will be able to get a sense of me when they get older and I hope to be able to write with more humor than I might tell the story to them.
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