Anti Diet
I’ve been trying to shrink my body for 23 years. Since I was the age of 11 years old I have thought of nothing but losing weight, reaching the “proper” BMI for my height, getting to that next goal weight. If someone told me they were trying to do ANYTHING for 23 years and they were unsuccessful at every attempt, I wouldn’t understand why they haven’t given up. Why haven’t they accepted reality that it is not something that can change. If we applied this logic with anything else in life, we would understand why someone would decide to stop trying. So why don’t we afford the same understanding to fat folks?
I started gaining weight when I hit puberty, which was consequentially around the same time my parents separated and eventually divorced. When going through so many changes, we all find a coping skill. I went to food for comfort. When I started gaining more weight than my peers, I was pressured to go on a carb restrictive diet at the age of 14 or 15. As my pubescence body was shrinking, I was receiving the praise and attention I craved. With every pound lost I felt it added to my value to others. I was wanted, loved, like I was doing something important and good. That really fucks with you at a young age.
I would go into my 30s chasing this feeling and validation from others. I was told that no boy would like me if I didn’t lose weight. I wouldn’t be as depressed if I lost some weight. My body, weight, size, number on the scale the last time I looked consumed me almost every moment of every day. Every time I decided to eat something, I would break it down in my head of how “good” or “bad” the food is. I would spend most days hungry and learn to enjoy the feeling of hunger because that meant I was losing weight. I would restrict foods Monday through Saturday and then Sunday I would have a “cheat day.” What in the actual fuck is a cheat day? Every thing about the phase “cheat day” implies it is bad, and because you have them you are inherently bad as well.
I would approach these cheat days with reckless abandon. I would eat and binge whatever I wanted. I would eat until it was painful all day long because when the clock struck 12 we are back on track! We are not eating carbs or whatever food the media is currently telling us it is bad.
No bread. No Pasta. Only meat. Doesn't matter what kind, just eat a pound of bacon! But a slice of bread? You’re fucked. Only veggies, but not potatoes because thats a carb and not a veggie. Watch how much fruit you eat because the sugar and it’s basically candy! Pop? You’re kidding right?
This is just the shit I would say to myself internally, let alone the shit that was said to my face. The enormity of my body was always on my mind. The fact that people felt they needed to comment on it truly blows my mind. Like I know I’m fat! I’ve known I was fat the moment when I couldn’t shop in the same stores as the majority of my friends at the age of 13. When all of a sudden I was SUPER into jewelry, handbags, and shoes.
Growing up fat is traumatic, it truly is. I would have suicidal thoughts, rather be dead than fat right? I would trim my hair or bangs, and think….”what if I just tried to cut my belly off? Yeah it would hurt, but maybe in emergency surgery they would just remove the whole thing and I’d wake up out of a coma thin.” or “maybe I’ll get some liposuction, I’ll save my allowance and when I’m old enough I’ll have the procedure done.” The desire to be thin and to get there quick was always on my mind. You have to remember this is the time when Jessica Simpson was a mere size 8 or 10 and magazines would call her fat and that she “let herself go.”
Trying to find clothing in my size was so hard. Growing up in the early 2000s there were essentially no fashionable and age appropriate options for a plus size preteen and teenager. Countless trips to department stores where I couldn’t fit into the junior section and I resorted to the missy or women's section where I would cry in the dressing room. All the clothes were too old for me, I wanted to wear those MUDD jeans!
My style throughout high school ended up being mainly band tees and jeans, because if I could at least find a pair of jeans that fit, I can definitely find a band tee because they came in mens sizes. When the mall opened a Torrid, I was about 15 years old and it was my very own Valhalla. One store. One store opened that had fashionable clothing in my size. I was fortunate enough that my family could afford to shop for me there because being fat comes with a price as well. Most basic clothing items are damn near double the cost of what a straight sized person would pay. Additionally, there weren’t any other options. A plain black hoodie at a department store and at Walmart are two very different prices, but for a fat person? Pay up at this one store or go without.
Another super neat part of being fat is body dysmorphia. Not everyone suffers from this but I know a lot of fat folks that do. No matter what size I was at the moment, all I would see is the imperfections in my body. What was wrong with it. What I thought needs to be smaller, look different, or change completely. From a size 12 to a 26 my body has always looked the same to me. Bad. I still struggle with this today. I always will. I’ll have good days and bad days. I’ve learned how to manage those days so that I don’t spiral.
In 2021 I started to work on healing myself from these thought processes and negative obsession with my body. Attending body neutral workshops via zoom with groups of people. We would discuss the root of fatphobia, why dieting never works, medical discrimination and how to navigate a world that actively fights against your fat body. The community that I found with complete strangers has been a very healing and a compassionate place. Learning how to love or at least accept my body for what it is in that moment and appreciate it for all that it does for me has been really healing. Allowing space for compassion for myself when I don’t feel the greatest has been so important for me during this process.
Even though having all of this support and community around me, I still was having trouble mentally. Should I go on a diet? Maybe I’ll start the Beachbody stuff again, maybe I’ll look into the gastric bypass. With everything I’ve learned in the workshops, societal influence to be thin was still heavily on my mind. It’s truly amazing how deeply engrained these thought can be. Diet culture is everywhere and it is constantly thrown in our faces in ways we don’t even realize. So how do you actively fight these kinds of thoughts and behaviors? Therapy!
A year ago I made an appointment with a nutrition therapist because I didn’t want to go on another diet, do Beachbody, or have a life altering surgery. I was essentially spiraling with my thoughts and I just wanted my mind to shut the fuck up. The immense shame I’ve felt for over 2 decades needed to end. I truly couldn’t take it any longer. Turns out I have an eating disorder. Shocking! I know right? For a year I’ve been learning how to eat again. Yes, learning how to eat. Learning hunger queues, and really listening to my body. Honoring my hunger instead of ignoring it.
It’s unbelievable overall damage diet culture does on a person. Even with working with this therapist for a year, I still have bad body days. And if I’m being honest, I will have to work on this for the rest of my life. However, the amount of freedom I’ve experienced since working with this therapist has been amazing. I have never taken care of myself in the way that I am now. I have so much more compassion and love for myself that I actually want to take care of myself. I no longer allow myself to starve because “it’s okay to miss a meal.” I’m sure I’ll have more to say about my experience with this therapy at some point, but this is what I have for now.
I am fed. I am well. I am enough. This is something I’ve been seeking for years.
Enjoy this beautiful poem by Mary Lambert <3
Breaking Up
We always hear about romantic relationships ending. It’s a fairly common thing. Most of us, if not all of us go into relationships with the expectation, or reality of “this could come to an end one day.” We have this imaginary expiration date. We don’t know when it is, but we know when it’s expired, it’s time to throw it away and move on.
After a particular friendship of mine ended, I asked my therapist why it hurt so much. She said “we don’t expect friendships to end.” I was blown away. I don’t know why I never thought of that. It’s why I go to therapy (:
How many friendships have you gone into and thought “I wonder how long this will last?” Not many of us, and I would bet zero. Unless you are some kind of psychopath. In my personal experience with this, I’ve had a few friendships end. All of them hurt in different ways.
One was with a friendship that was built on not liking another person. I’m not proud of that one bit, but it was a bonding thing. After the fun with not liking that person wore off, we actually became friends. We would hang out, go to dinner, smoke cigarettes, drink, all of the normal things friends do. Then this person moved away, but through long distance we remained friends. We would text daily and on Saturdays we would talk on the phone while both of our partners were working. We would spend hours on the phone, mainly talking about the wedding she was planning for the upcoming fall. I was not part of the wedding party, but just like every wedding I’ve ever been in, someone dropped out or the bride was no longer friends with said person. So now I’m in this wedding, which I was happy to do. I didn’t think much of it. She didn’t want an uneven number. I thought we were close enough, and I was honored to be chosen to celebrate that day with her. A lot of this wedding was DIY: food, decorations, music, etc. The day of the wedding approaches, and I find myself in the kitchen cooking. I felt sad for my friend because not very many people volunteered to help, even though she had family coming. I made the mac and cheese and heated up some canned green beans, but I was happy to give a helping hand to make sure she didn’t have to worry about it.
Fast forward to a few weeks after the wedding, we are still texting and chatting. This was the type of friend that had a hard time looking for positives. Always had to find something negative to talk about, and when solutions were presented, there was always a reason why those didn’t work. I had a very hard time with this, and one day, I just blew up, via text. I’m sure what I said was mean, callous, and they didn’t deserve my venom. I had a lot of personal things going on and did not know how to set boundaries.
That was the last time we ever spoke.
Another friendship that I had end was pretty unfortunate. I was friends with her for as long as I can remember. We basically knew each other since diapers. A childhood friendship that I thought would stand the test of time. I was also in her wedding because a friend dropped out. (good enough to be the second choice but not the first! Lol)
This friend was the light and airy friend. Pick up right where you left off. Go with the flow. Make each other laugh. We just enjoyed each others company. We had funny childhood stories to share too.
This friendship I ultimately just let go of. It came down to fundamental differences. Her lack to listen and learn over arguing her point. I have a really hard time with people that refuse to admit when they are wrong and refuse to correct themselves or learn from their mistakes. My heart remains open for this person to see the other side of things, but I don’t really see that happening.
The most painful friendship that I lost blindsided me. Another friendship built on the mutual hatred of someone we use to be friends with in high school. (yes, I’m seeing a trend, and I also think this is just young girls). She was my right hand, my bff, my other half, my shoulder, and my drunk meatball. We even worked together. We were a packaged deal in every situation. I’ve seen her at her lowest and she had seen me through mine. I held her hand as she went through a divorce, and she was there the night after that my brother committed suicide. We toted each around town from bar to bar as she coped with her divorce and I with my brother’s death.
We were trauma bonded.
She had one of those family that basically adopted you. I could just walk into their house, sit on the couch with her mom and watch tv. I attended family reunions and parties. We would drink and eat while sitting around a fire. They were my extended family.
When I moved to Miami I know she felt abandoned by me. However, she also understood how important it was for me as well. I’ll blog about that one day. We stayed in contact and spoke every day like I never left. We just didn’t physically see each other. She came to visit me in Miami and it was like we didn’t miss a beat. We got drunk on the beach and played in the ocean. She left and we went back home, and I stayed there for 2 years.
In the winter of 2018, she lost her mom. This brought up a lot of grief for myself, and I truly didn’t know how to navigate it. It was almost like I was reliving my brothers death all over again. The truest definition of being triggered by something. Her grief, and honestly my grief of losing yet again another person in my life that was important to me as well, resurfaced a lot of feelings that I was not prepared for. I don’t believe I supported her in the way that she needed, but I saw she had a great support system around her. I was comforted by this as I slipped into the background of dealing with my own feelings and grief. I won’t add any more details about this friendship ending. Mainly because I know I fucked up towards the end and to respect the her privacy.
I let grief, anger, and resentment get the best of me. I said things that were very hurtful. I was hurt, and hurt people like to hurt people. I was not a good friend towards the end and honestly, neither was she. It’s like we both knew it had reached it’s end without actually vocalizing it.
In April of 2020, I reached out. I never got a response.
The part of friendships ending that is so painful is the erasure. A friendship that lasted 10-12 years in a social media society is a lot to deal with. Removing all of the pictures together, untagging yourself from their pictures and from mutuals. Then what do you do with them? Delete them? What if things turn around? Pulling down photos from a decade of friendship is hard. Uploading them to a cloud so they don’t live on your phone as a constant reminder. Then Facebook memories come around and show you something you missed, so then you go through the whole process again. A song comes on that reminds you of them and you either change it or you just sit and listen and remember the good times.
I think actual the worst part is people asking you about the them and how they are doing. We were truly two peas in a pod. So when I would run into someone that knew the two of us, it would take everything in me to suck back tears (most of the time unsuccessfully) and let them know that I’m no longer in contact.
These are the things that no one prepares you for. You never see this in movies or tv shows. The characters always make up after a falling out. We really have no frame of reference on how to navigate these very real scenarios that happen.
We eventually move on from romantic relationships by fulfilling them with another one. I don’t know how to fulfill a friendship that has ended, or if it’s even possible. It just hurts, and I feel like there will always be a corner of my heart that will fondly remember them.
In the end, I wish them all the happiness and a fulfilling life.
Halloween
If you’re new here and don’t already know, Halloween is my favorite holiday. When I was going up, I was not allowed to celebrate it. I was told that it was an evil day and that it was Satan’s birthday. (what? Lol). I believed that candy would be laced with razor blades, needles, or be poisoned. I was told that witches would steal my black cat, and sacrifice her for the devil. Halloween night was something to be feared, the devil was just around the corner waiting to getcha!
Every Halloween in my early childhood we would turn out all the lights in the house, so trick or treaters would think we weren’t home. We would honestly sit in the dark until trick or treat was over. The window in my bedroom faced our street and I used to peak my head out the window to watch kids in costumes walk down the road with their giant bags of candy. I used to think about how fun it looked, and would dream about the costumes I would wear if given the opportunity. Even though the devils night was supposed to scare me, I always was curious about the holiday, probably because it was forbidden.
I have memories of an older cousin going as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz one year. She had ruby red slippers and everything! I remember being obsessed with the costume when I’d visit their house. I want to say I was allowed to borrow the ruby slippers, or maybe I tried them on. It was all very confusing to me that my cousins and the neighborhood kids were allowed to dress up and have fun on this holiday that seemed to be made for kids and I was not allowed to. The costumes weren’t evil or scary. I mean, I guess some could be. I would have wanted to dress up as Ariel or Belle. Where’s the evil in that? But I was told that that’s how the devil gets in. He’s cunning and makes things that are evil look like fun! It’s a slippery slope to damnation.
My church would put on a fall festival every year. If there is one thing I’ve learned in my deconstruction of Evangelical Christianity, it was a whole lot about control. Your kids want to dress up? Come to the church function dressed up! We will have hayrides, games, and do all the things that sinners do, but we will pray first or have a sermon. Bring your kids to this controlled CHRISTIAN environment where they will be safe. I had a blast at these festivals though, as I had many church friends and church was really the only place where I had friends being homeschooled.
As I got older, my mom tried to make things a little more interesting on Halloween night. We would make appetizers for dinner and retreat to the basement of our completely dark split level house and watch Young Frankenstein. We held this tradition for 2, maybe 3 years. I looked forward to it. It was better than watching kids out my window in a completely dark room. Even to this day Young Frankenstein is on my list of movies to watch during the season.
Once I hit my high school years, I was living with my dad, we would take my little siblings trick or treating. I remember feeling too old to trick or treat, as it was no longer taboo, but we would carve pumpkins and do other fall festive things.
Personally, I feel like I was robbed of a childhood when it comes to trick or treating. I have this fantasy of walking down sidewalks with all my neighborhood pals collecting candy and TP-ing houses that didn’t give out candy. Fun fact, I’ve ALWAYS wanted to TP a house. I think it’s the funniest trick! I know I have a very “Hollywood” idea of Halloween. I’m sure it’s nothing like the movies or tv shows. I am also certain I’d probably not be obsessed with the holiday as an adult if I was allowed to celebrate it.
The other day I had an epiphany for a deeper reason why this particular holiday is my favorite. Not because I think it was robbed from me...it was also the only holiday I didn’t have split between parents. After my parents divorced, I split holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and even my birthday between my parents. Splitting holidays between parents was always hard, my mom would say things that would make me feel guilty for leaving her to go to my dads. She didn’t have any family local, I didn’t really understand, I just wanted to see my dad and family. I don’t think she realized how projecting her own feelings onto me made me feel. I grew to hate Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and even my birthday. After my mom moved to Tennessee, there was pressure to travel there for the holidays because again, didn’t have any local family. I’m not trying to make my mom look like a bad mom, just noting the hardships of divorced parents over state lines. It was a lot of pressure to put on a teenager who doesn’t have a car or a license to travel for holidays they don’t even enjoy anymore.
Halloween is safe.
Halloween is mine.
Halloween can be whatever I want it to be and I can celebrate it however I wish.
Insulated
I’ve been thinking about how insulated we have been for the last year as a society.
If you took Covid measures seriously, you stayed home, (if your job afforded you that ability), and you kept your circles small or even just with your immediate family. Your outside world was brought to you by the device in your hand and the curated feed you scroll through daily, sometimes all day. You may come across someone you disagree with. You can either leave them there, unfollow their posts, or straight up unfriend that person.
If the past year has taught me anything, a year of isolation and scrolling through my own echo chamber, you realize some people aren’t what you thought they were. Hell, I’m not the person you may think I am. There has been a massive amount of growth within myself as I’ve been forced to stay home with my own thoughts, looking at the outside world through a 6 inch screen.
You are surrounded by your loved ones, and with little to no interaction with a physical human being outside of your bubble, you can be very disappointed with folks you once associated with. Everyone is all of a sudden a keyboard warrior.
There are good and bad things about spending a year in isolation. One of the bad things is you realize that connections that you once had, are no longer connections at all. That people you always kept in your expanded circle, hit some odd wavelength and poof, they are out of your orbit. Sometimes people leave your orbit by simply not speaking to you, and leaving you questioning everything. Other times people leave you hurt and nothing you can do to salvage it. Sometimes a combo of both.
One of the good things about this isolation, along with an election year, also paired with the only social outlet being the internet, it has exposed people who they really are. That was truly to our own benefit.
I severed ties with acquaintances that defended the murder of a man in cold blood, believed that a coup was okay, and that burning down a Target was not. I don’t want to be acquaintances or friends with people that aren’t actively trying to change the world for the better. I don’t want to live in a society that values property over a life. Lets the police be the jury, judge, and executioner. Doesn’t believe every life deserves healthcare, an education, or a living wage.
I don’t have time for people that don’t agree with affording people basic human rights and are too busy with misdirecting the actual issue with a buzzword like “cancel culture” or positive posts about what’s currently going on in their own life. Read the room.
Sometimes you outgrow people and that’s okay.
For the longest time I have tolerated people for treating my like shit under the guise of friendship. For as long as I can remember I’ve never really been honest with how I’ve felt in situations that made me uncomfortable. I’m always afraid of upsetting people. I’ve always been known to have a “go with the flow” kind of attitude, and never really knew how to put my foot down in situations I did not care for. I recognize this is a trauma response for trying to keep the peace. I need to evaluate instances where I am uncomfortable, feel slighted, and stick up for myself. I need to assess if it’s important to speak up and voice my discomfort or how someone has wronged me. Normally I would brush it off and move on but I would ALWAYS remember how I felt and how someone made me feel. It’s like my mouth is sealed shut and I just deal with it to keep peace or to not ruffle feathers.
I’m done.
I refuse to do that anymore. If someone is actively making me uncomfortable or I feel I’ve been wronged. I will point it out. What you do with that information is up to you. If you value me as a friend or even a human, you will recognize your wrongs and actively work to correct it or understand why I am upset.
Now that I’m sitting here, reflecting on things, I realize that I have lost several friendships or people in my life for not speaking up for myself. I just take it and take it until I eventually blow up and unload on the person and poof! They’re gone. Looking back on lost friendships, I realized I put so much into them with so little in return. I let people use me, and all I wanted in return was friendship and acceptance. This is definitely something I would like to deconstruct in therapy and maybe revisit later in another entry.
I am fortunate enough to have friends and a partner that have taught me my worth. Why I am worthy of love and respect at the bare minimum. These are the friendships I want to invest in and cultivate. These are the kind of people that you will have in your life forever. How does that saying go? “If you have to force a fart, it’s probably shit” replace “fart” with friendships or something like that.
In a way I am grateful that Covid threw us into an involuntary isolation. It has showed me that I do not have to give energy to people that don’t have the same moral fiber that I find value in. Stop shrinking yourself into spaces you have outgrown. Learn from it and work for a more peaceful existence. You will always have fond memories from the past, but that’s what they will remain to be.
This line from a song has been running through my head all week:
“We are never what we intend, or invent.” -At The Bottom by Brand New
Body Neutrality
I started hating my body at a very young age. I started gaining weigh when I was about 11 years old, maybe younger. I was well aware that my body was different than other kids my age. I remember crying in dressing rooms because the clothes that I wanted to wear didn’t fit, and the clothes that did fit, I didn’t want to wear.
I was 15 years old when my mom convinced me to go on the Atkins diet with her. Her own internalized fatphobia was carried down to me. I don’t blame my mom, she was only doing what she thought was best for herself and her daughter. She too is a victim of diet culture. I believe this is where my ED started. That’s another story for another day. I remember losing like 30 pounds in less than 3 months. I was praised for my shrinking body. No matter the amount of compliments I received...I still hated my body. It was just smaller.
How fucked is that?
I thought losing weight would be like a switch where I would just be happy at a smaller size. Even though I shrunk, I knew I had to lose more! I needed to be the right BMI for my height. So even though I shrunk, I didn’t shrink enough, so therefore, I’m still a failure, and I should still hate my body.
Just like all diets, they failed, and I gained all the weight and then some back. I had moved in with my dad shortly after this. He was always encouraging, told me “real women have curves” and that I’m beautiful no matter what. I also started public school at this time as well. I had never been in public school until I was 16 and a size 16. All the girls around me, size 0, 00, 3, and 5. I felt ginormous. I hated it. I remember before I started public school, I was talking to a boy online that went to the same school. When I entered school, I met him in person, but he stopped talking to me. I had been told by my friend that he said that “I was a bit of a muffin” and that he wasn’t interested. My little 16 year old heart was crushed, AND HE WASN’T EVEN THAT CUTE. So I thought, well if this guy thinks I’m fat, then I’ll never get a boyfriend.
I lived a very uncomfortable life, always covering up, always trying to hide.
Fast forward to what is now the Body Positive movement. I saw fat girls on instagram celebrating their bodies, telling people that they are beautiful just as they are, and that it’s okay to love your body. I thought, where has this been my entire life?! This is wonderful! I followed these creators and found cute clothes to make me feel better about my own body. I felt seen. Well, at least online.
Once the phrase “Body Positive” started getting traction, it was quickly co-opted by thin people, or people in the health and wellness community. Fat people alienated, again. You start seeing thins and mediums talk about how they are body positive and how they love their body, while simultaneously working out everyday and practicing intermittent fasting. Do you Becky? Do you really love your body?
That’s nice in all, but you aren’t actively discriminated in society. You’ve never been to a doctor for a check up and they tell you that you need to lose 150-200 pounds before they even know you or try to actually help you. They tell you if you lose weight all your problems will go away.
You’ve never been seated at a restaurant where you were uncomfortable at your table, because you have a hard time fitting in a chair or booth. You’ve never been at a family gathering where you have to figure out which chair will hold your weight or you resort to standing the entire time because there doesn’t seem to be a good option. In group photos, you try to hid behind people, but you are short so they put you up front. Boarding a plane to watch the person who is already seated have a look of dread because I will be sitting next to them.
You’ve never spent the majority of your life trying not to exist or hide.
Maybe you have, but not because you’re fat.
I tried being positive about my size and my body, but turns out I still hated it. No matter how many times I tried to love my body, I still hated things about it. Then I’d feel guilty about being down on myself, because “beauty at every size!”
It’s exhausting and emotionally damaging trying to be positive about something you simply cannot be positive about.
I recently discovered something called Body Neutrality.
Basic google definition: Body neutrality is a philosophy that you should focus on what your body can do for you rather than what it looks like.
I have such a hard time being positive about a body that I’ve hated for over 20 years. The emotional damage still there. The hateful self talk is still there. The years of hating this or that part of my body, then to flip a switch and say “I LOVE MY BODY” through body positivity is just not realistic.
What I can work towards is being neutral about my body image. My body holds my heart and my mind. It has legs and feet that carry me places that I want to go. It has semi good eyes to see things that I want to see. It has arms to squeeze my loved ones so tight. I am learning to have gratitude for this bag of bones, flesh, and fat.
Even if I was what society deemed to be the correct BMI or size, I would still find something wrong and something to hate. Society would still find something wrong with me. We have this notion that we would be happy at a certain size or a goal weight, and that’s not true at all.
I need to heal the bully that I’ve internalized for the last 20 years. I need to believe my boyfriend and friends when they tell me I look good or that I am beautiful just the way I am.
I’ve spent years thinking so little of myself that it’s hard to even love myself the tiniest bit.
Sometimes I wonder if I ever will. I can only work towards it.
Some of the things that I am working on to reach this neutrality with my body image is listening/reading books about intuitive eating to heal my relationship with food. I am done with dieting or “working on my nutrition” for the sake of weight loss. I am working to rephrase my self talk when I go down a hole of negativity. I’m going to try to not completely and totally analyze the food I choose to nourish my body with. I’m going to try to find books on this subject and how to apply it to everyday life. If you know of a book, please send your suggestions! I’m going to exercise because I like to, not because I hate my body or want to change it in some way. Those are not good motivators for me anyway. I’m going to unfollow social media pages that make me feel like shit about myself. Socials that make me compare myself to that person and how I’m a failure in comparison. I can get so wrapped up in the 5% I see of other peoples lives that I will feel bad about our own.
I know this is going to be hard and I have a lot of work to do, but I am ready. I know I will have good body days and bad body days. How I handle them will be where the mindset shift needs to take place. On bad body days, I beat my self up and tell my self, “alright time to get serious, we will start the nutrition plan and we will wake up early to get that workout in.” One good days, I wear cute clothes, put on makeup, go for a drive, get a coffee, listen to fun music, and sing at the top of my lungs. I’m not thinking about diets or how I hate my body. This is a cycle I wish to break but I know it will circle for awhile as I work through this.
I’m ready to live my life as is. I’m not going to hold myself back because I don’t have the body I think I need to have. If I wait around to reach a goal weight or body, I’ll miss out on everything.
Links for articles I’ve read on Body Neutrality:
https://www.onewomanproject.org/blog/2020/9/9/concept-body-neutrality
https://www.healthline.com/health/body-neutrality
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/what-is-body-neutrality_n_5b61d8f9e4b0de86f49d31b4
I’m an Atheist
I remember being 6 years old during a Saturday night church service where I told my dad (who was running sound for the church band), that I just asked Jesus into my heart. My dad was thrilled and gave me a big hug.
6 years old.
Did I even know what that meant?
Or was I just assimilating what I was being exposed to?
I remember telling my Catholic Aunt that she wasn’t going to heaven because she wasn’t Christian. Not realizing that Catholicism was another form of Christianity. Even after being corrected, still thinking to myself of course, she wasn’t going to heaven because she didn’t believe the same way I did.
I grew up as an evangelical Christian. We went to church 3 times a week. Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night.
I remember changing churches from the one where Jesus “entered my heart” at the innocent age of six, to the church that I would end up leaving forever.
I was in the 3rd grade, I remember this because I was in the 3rd and 4th grade Sunday school classes taught by someone who I swore was 80 years old, Mrs. Scardina. I remember my first day in that Sunday school class. I was wearing a dress that my mother made. There was a brief time in history where my mother sewed. We kids were the victims of her works.
I remember meeting another girl in that Sunday school class that was also homeschooled. I had never met anyone homeschooled in a social situation. We instantly became friends and are still friends to this day.
Fast forward to 5th to 6th grade...we would have class taught by different people in the church. My favorite church service was Sunday night, because that’s when Mrs. Lacey taught class. I remember we turned out the lights and sat in a lamp lit corner of the classroom with pillows made out of old teeshirts (why was that a thing?) and talked about demons and different types of demons. Ultimately she taught us how to ward them off with the word of God. It was so fascinating, unfortunately it was short lived. Some kid got scared and she wasn’t allowed to teach us anymore. We needed cherry picked stories of sunshine and rainbows and Jesus’ unfailing love and mercy, as long as we were obedient to God and our parents.
I attended a summer camp that was 4 days long with all my friends from church. Outside of homeschool groups this was the only social interaction I really had.
Those few days at church camp were the best! Wordstock 99!
We swam, crafted, played kickball, and every night we would have service by the fire. Picture the documentary Jesus Camp.
By the time I hit high school age, our church hired a youth pastor from Fort Worth, Texas. The prior youth pastor was mysteriously fired and never seen again. If you are from this background this type of thing is not uncommon.
This pastor from Texas was bright shiny and new. He taught us not only about Jesus but how we could have a “personal relationship” with him. This youth pastor was young and hip and related to us. Naturally, as an impressionable kid, I loved learning from him. His wife and kids were great! My friend group would have outings with them and we would hold events, such as lock ins and concerts at our church. We redecorated the entire gymnasium to look more appealing to the youth, complete with a coffee bar!
I was fully invested in this church, I had a solid friend group who all had similar ideas and backgrounds. I was what you called “on fire for God.”
I do have a memory where I questioned if what we believed was right. I specifically remember sitting in our posh youth group cafe asking my friends “What if we are wrong? What if we get to the “pearly gates” and they say, sorry it wasn’t christianity, it was buddhism.” I honestly cannot remember what their response was, but I’m sure it was shock to them for me even bringing it up or doubting. We were taught to never doubt the word of God.
One of the big trips we would make as a youth group was a Christian convention called “Acquire the Fire” held in Pittsburgh and other major cities. It was a weekend event where we would watch skits of common teen struggles, concerts of popular christian bands, and of course the infamous sermon and alter call.
We lived for these weekends. We needed that fire to be rekindled. I remember one particular year, I felt it necessary after the weekend to get rid of ALL of my secular music and only listen to Christian bands. Of course, with the exception of a few of my favorite non Christian bands. I loved Jesus, but he wasn’t going to take Something Corporate and Brand New from me.
My junior year of high school our youth paster was fired, he and his family moved back to Texas. It was unclear to me why he was fired, I heard rumblings in the church like they didn’t like that he wore ripped jeans. He was a youth pastor...trying to relate to teens. I left the church, I didn’t understand how they could let someone like him leave that was having such a huge impact on the youth.
My best friend Erin, and I tried to find another youth group in the local area. I had my license, so I would pick her up and we would drive all over the county visiting different churches to find a new youth group. We ended up just going to Starbucks on Wednesdays, getting coffee and talking for hours. We found church within each other.
Graduating high school I had the plan of going to a Christian University where I would study to become a youth pastor. The summer between high school and college, I joined a Pro-Life group that toured summer Christian festivals and would pray outside of abortion clinics with signs about abortion. I made it maybe 2 weeks into what should have been a half summer before I went home. The entire time I was there I woke up nauseous and I went to bed nauseous, looking back it was probably anxiety or a panic attack. I went to one festival to sell merch for them, then called my dad to save me and left the tour.
I attended Lee University in Cleveland, Tennessee. It was a Church of God school, another form of christianity that I didn’t know existed. I went into my freshman year with an undeclared major because of my experience over the summer. I was very unsure about a lot of things. I often refer to this one year of college as a pivotal time in my life. I met life long friends, and I was exposed to a lot of ignorance of other christian kids along with being painfully aware of my own ignorance. I remember my friend Robert and I would talk about how much we hated Christians, but still believing ourselves. We always talked about how Pastor’s kids were the worst. They were very arrogant. I built a friend group during the one year of college and we would often refer to our group as our church. We fellowshipped with each other, we loved and took care of each other. It was probably the closest thing to what the Bible describes as how a church should function.
For some reason, that would be an entirely different entry, I left college and moved back home to Ohio where I would go to cosmetology school. After graduating from cosmo school and obtaining my license, I moved back to Tennessee. Only to Chattanooga where my mom lived. I was to transfer my cosmetology license there and find a job. I was definitely chasing the times of that freshman year of college. Unfortunately, they don’t tell you that when your friends are busy working and studying, they don’t have time for you, as you are outside of their world. Which is totally understandable.
Living with my mom did not work out, another entry for another day, I moved back to Ohio, yet again, to find my way. I wasn’t really going to church. I attended a few services at the church where my dad went. Still never fully back to what I was years ago in high school.
This was really long winded way of saying that I am an Atheist. When I de-converted it was a long process. One of the things I listened to that really changed my mind was a talk by Seth Andrew’s from the Unholy Trinity Tour. He spoke about reading the Bible without “God goggles” like the Bible was a love letter from God to me and to read it for what it truly was. He went through the probability of events in the Bible actually happening and it just clicked.
For long time I was an angry atheist, which I think everyone goes through when they de-convert. I remember growing up being told that if I prayed and was obedient to God and my parents, He would answer my prayers. If my prayers weren’t answered I probably did something to anger God and I didn’t deserve what I prayed for.
I remember praying for my parents to stay together, they still got divorced.
I prayed my brother would stop using drugs, but he still got addicted to heroin and took his life after years of hopelessness.
I prayed God would cure my grandma’s cancer, but she still died.
I prayed God would heal my Uncle of his sclerosis of the liver, and he still died.
I had a lot of reasons to be angry with God.
My sweet friend Carly and I stayed up late one night discussing why I don’t believe anymore and when I said the above she made the comment “so you just want God to be a genie and grant all your wishes.” I don’t believe I had a good response at the time. After thinking about that for some time later, I wanted to know why was Jesus and God presented to me that way then? Why was I told that if I was a good little Christian girl that all my prayers would be answered? It was psychologically and emotionally damaging. It was the constant trying to be on my best behavior, being obedient and getting nothing in return. I know there are some Christians out there reading this thinking I’m being selfish and that God probably revealed himself to me in some other way, and I did experience that to some degree. I aced a test that I studied really hard for, or I got out of a sticky situation that could have harmed me, or I went to bed sick, prayed for health and woke up “healed.”
It’s so much more than that for me though, it’s hard for me to put it into words. The Bible was written YEARS after Jesus supposedly existed. It was written by man, it was canonized by man. We are taught from the same book that man is fallible and God is not, so we are supposed to follow a book written by man? There are stories in the Bible that we are told to be true, but science has debunked and reason advises that it’s impossible.
I’ve felt the same chills and euphoria during concerts and meditating as I did when I would be in a church service worshiping Jesus. So that taught me that one can exist without the other. I chose the path that was less guilt filled and full of reason and science.
It’s interesting to me that when I tell someone I’m an atheist the response is always shock and disbelief. As if someone like me couldn’t be this way. I believe that’s because using the word atheist has a negative connotation and has for years. If I had told them I was a christian, I wouldn’t get the 3rd degree as to WHY I was christian. But I ALWAYS get the 3rd degree when I say that I don’t believe. Maybe it’s the proselytizing of the christian faith that they are taught to do. Maybe people think they can “save me” or bring me back to the Lord. I am a lost sheep among the heard.
I’ll tell you one thing, being without belief has been the most freeing time of my life so far. I no longer live in fear that my actions are going to have spiritual consequences. When I practiced Christianity, it was taught that this world is not our place, that we belong in heaven with Jesus. So I was waiting around to basically die. To die was an achievement because you were heading to the most beautiful place ever. You would be rewarded for your good works on earth.
Now that I don’t believe that place exists, I fell like I can enjoy my life. I don’t look at the world like a waiting queue to get to the “good place.” I feel like this is the good place and I can make it whatever I want it to be. I feel like I can actually live my life any way I seem fit, with no spiritual consequences. Do you know how freeing that is?! It’s amazing! A peace has washed over me.
I do believe Christians can feel these same things, but for me, I had to let go of the ideology to really feel free.
I can be a good person without trying to score points with the big man upstairs. I can be good because I want to be good. I can be nice because I want to be nice. I can help people because I want to help people.
Again, not saying that’s the only reason Christians do these things, but I do believe it’s a motivator.
Coming out as an atheist in a predominantly christian family and country is scary. I run the risk of family members, friends, coworkers, or even complete strangers treating me differently or completely cutting me off. I will always respect their homes and never make a scene, don’t you worry. If you want to pray before a meal, I will bow my head our of respect for you. Jesus, broke bread with non believers and sinners right? If you want to invite me to church, I will kindly decline and ask to go to a movie or dinner, or find another way to spend quality time. I never want to be pushy with my lack of belief how christians have been pushy with the love of christ. That’s just not my deal.
If you’re still with me at this point, I hope you will accept me for who I am. I’m not in the market of telling you you’re wrong for what you believe. That is yours and only yours. However, if you ask me a question, don’t get upset with my answer. You might not like it or I may not have one for you. And that’s okay!
I hope this has challenged you in some way to think critically of what you believe and why you believe it. I am always open for a respectful discussion.
Kloveyoubye.
Some of the things I referenced:
Jesus Camp - https://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Camp-Becky-Fischer/dp/B000KLQUV2
Seth Andrew’s Talk - https://youtu.be/8tVBtyDqD90