As I’m packing, planning, and preparing to leave for FitBloggin this week, I was thinking about the Mental Health Monday series that briefly was around after last year’s conference. It seemed a rather fortuitous subject to be thinking about lately.
We had a family wedding over the weekend which involved seeing all of those out-of-town relatives I only see at, well, family weddings. (It’s down to me and my cousin Sean as the last remaining unmarried cousins of our generation. I’m slightly closer to getting hitched than he is although I think of all sixteen of us first cousins, he and I are the most likely to just run off with our significant others and elope, so for all we know this was the last family wedding for awhile LOL).
At one point during the day, I stumbled on a conversation between some cousins related to anxiety. My cousin A. was talking about testing positive for some kind of gene mutation that is known to cause anxiety, depression, among other things, but those were the two items that piqued my interest. She’s trying to get her parents and siblings to get tested because, y’know, genetics, DNA, and SCIENCE! but so far they haven’t show any interest.
Later, spurred by my wanting more information, she asked me if I have anxiety and I wanted to laugh.
Oh. Oh yes, yes I have anxiety.
Six months ago I agreed to help my friend Dave out with a recurring event here in Cleveland. At the time I went in with full-faith that I’d be able to do this, but as the months went on it became apparent that this was not possible after all. I was supposed to be in charge of the September event and it’s still two months away but I was becoming increasingly crippled with the anxiety surrounding the event. Like, unable to go to sleep at night because all I could think about was all the things that had to be done and that’s not even considering all the things that will have to be done as we get closer and then actually running the event.
As I’m explaining all of this to my cousin, I look over and realize my mom is watching and listening to us talk.
Oh. Hi mom. Right, we have never talked about this because just the thought of talking with you about personal stuff even now at 34 makes me anxious so there’s no way in hell I would have done it twenty years ago at 14 and so, instead, turned to food and now things come full circle and make way more sense than I think they ever did before and omg.
I’m not being factious with that, either. That’s always the thing when you’re overweight, right? There must be something in my past that caused me to eat enough to get up to 311 pounds and there must still be something in my present that caused me to regain some of the weight I originally lost several years ago.
And I could never figure out what it could be. I had a good childhood, loving parents, solid family unit, no trauma. But despite all that, I have spent my whole life feeling anxious. About something, nothing, everything . . . and when I’m feeling anxious I eat.
Well there’s some food for thought. Pun intended.
Love from the ashes,