Trigger warning: this post covers childhood sexual abuse and trauma. Please take your time and prioritize your well-being as you read.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t feel good after eating. The pleasure of seeking out something delicious and devouring every bite was a seemingly uncomplicated and readily available comfort. For more years than I’d like to admit, I tamped down every emotion and difficult experience with something high-carb, high-sugar, or both.
Periodically, I’d jump on some kind of diet trend, lose a little weight, and put it back on in half the time.
There is very little photo evidence of my life. I dodged group photos and sometimes, if I was feeling especially fat, skipped social gatherings altogether. Spending a lot of time alone turned me into a voracious reader and an avid social media fan. I am often amazed at what people will share about themselves with strangers. Watching the algorithms change my feed based on what I paused or clicked on became its own game.
One day, an online coach popped up in my social media feed selling a new weight loss challenge. It happened to catch me on a day when I was looking for something else to try, having exhausted what felt like every popular diet and eating plan over the years, from Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig to keto, intermittent fasting, juice cleanses, and countless others.
The challenge included tapping on various points around your head, face, and upper body to “process” emotions around eating. It sounded ridiculous, and given my history, that is saying something.
So, of course I tried it.
To my surprise, tapping brought up memories of past pain and connections I’d long forgotten. One of the concepts discussed was that our bodies can hold onto fear and trauma, and that overeating is sometimes connected to unresolved experiences, including sexual trauma. It wasn’t something I wanted to hear. Sometimes you hear something you just know is true, and you can’t un-hear it.
As desperately as I wanted to avoid the possibility, I put my big girl boots on and kept going.
During one of the exercises, a memory surfaced with startling clarity. It played in my mind more like a film than a dream, complete with emotions as vivid as if it had happened earlier that day.
I was between four and five years old, sitting outside my home by myself. A well-dressed man stopped nearby and tried to persuade me to go with him around the side of the house. He offered me money and insisted it would only take a few minutes. At first I listened. Then I realized he was lying.
I said no. He stayed there trying to convince me before finally walking away. Even then, he kept looking back.
I didn’t move. I was afraid that if I tried to run inside too soon, he could reach me before I got to the door.
When he was finally out of sight, I ran inside, locked the door, and told no one.
I stopped tapping there, crying, more like sobbing. It wasn’t because I had remembered something. It was because I suddenly understood that my body never forgot.
To think I could have been abducted or killed before I’d even started school was terrifying. That fear had been lying dormant for decades, and there’s no way to know how many cupcakes or slices of bread were attached to keeping it buried. I also found myself grieving for the little girls who may not have been able to say no.
As I continue working through this program, I’ve discovered there were many more experiences I buried because I needed to survive them at the time and can finally begin to face now. All the body positivity messaging in the world can’t change what you deeply believe to be true, and the word I use to describe how I look is fat.
I think I finally understand one of the reasons I’ve stayed fat, and what being fat has protected me from in my own mind.
It’s both awful and freeing.
This work is hard. I’ve actually gained a few pounds while eating my way through some of what has surfaced. Abuse and harassment. Betrayal by adults I trusted. Facing what I couldn’t process in real time isn’t exactly dinner table conversation, but I believe this is the work I need to do.
On every journey, the first step toward better isn’t always brightly illuminated. I still hope there’s a size four pair of jeans somewhere along this tapping journey. More than that, I hope to keep letting go of the things I’ve carried for far too long.
Wish me luck.
And if you need it, please consider seeking help processing your own memories. We’re more than what has happened to us
Help and support is available if you need it; you are not alone: https://rainn.org/help-and-healing/hotline/
