It seems
like going over how I disconnected from my body, and why, is integral to
writing about reconnecting, but I am finding it difficult. The initial
circumstances weren't pleasant, but also so much of it is wrong and stupid.
Okay, some
girls circled me on the playground and marveled over how fat I was - I know I am
not the only person to have experienced this. I'm probably not even the only
person at that school; I only remember Suzy picking on me once, and it would be
kind of weird if that was her only foray into bullying. It affected me deeply
though, and possibly abnormally.
I accepted
their judgment of me completely. It feels necessary to figure out why I did
that, but also it feels really self-indulgent like I am wallowing in the pity
of being poor me, and I hate that. Bear with me.
I think
there are a few things that worked together, and some of them are even things
that I have written about recently, though I was not at the time aware that
they would relate to this, but it all works together.
For
example, I wrote about being discouraged from crying on December 22nd. I wrote
that because the song countdown gave me a reason to remember the different
incidents, and the song countdown felt like a reasonable thing to do. As I was
doing that the natural progression felt like I should be going through old
photos next, and I vaguely felt that it would be related to my self-image, but
now it hits me that it is at least partially about looking at what I refused to
look at.
So some of
the roads I take may be annoying, but they all feel necessary based on my inner
compass.
One thing I
have written about before is my tendency to be a people pleaser and how that is
related to a sense of shame. I can look back and see possible reasons that was
my tendency, but I am not really sure. I have four siblings. We were all raised
in the same house and same way, but they all have different issues and coping
mechanisms. Is shame more common for the middle child? I have no idea.
It was
impossible to be good enough for my father, but we all had that. There was a
persistent sense that we did not fit in at church when we moved here, but we
all had that. The only thing I can really see as possibly unique to me is that
I did not socialize well, even before we moved. I was younger than most of the
kids in the old neighborhood - not by a lot, but when you are young a year or
two can make a big difference. The one girl who was my age was really bossy and
not a lot of fun. I did spend time with the other kids, but I spent a lot of
time by myself too. I have been told I had an imaginary friend, but I don't
remember it.
I suspect
that the early crying suppression, which I heard not just as "Don't
cry" but as "Your feelings do not matter to us" may have increased
my feeling that there was something wrong with me.
Based on
that, it seems possible that the reason the playground incident had the impact
it did was that I had known there was something wrong with me and suddenly it
was like "That's it!" It was because I was fat. That was why people
just wanted me to shut up if I was sad, and a boy who was my friend wouldn't
want me to like him, and it was okay to be mean to me.
It finally
all made sense.
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