I Dread Mother’s Day…
Mother’s Day approaches and I dread it! Don’t get me wrong,
my mother is a good person… just a little overbearing.
Actually, she’s “big time” overbearing. She knows I have an eating disorder.
And this year, we’re celebrating Mother’s Day at her house.
At least we’re not going out to her favorite restaurant, which
is some relief.
I know what it will be like. Oh Sarah, have a little more ham. You’ve
hardly touched your plate. How about some more sweet potatoes?
Oh, and we have plenty of green bean casserole. Whoops…almost
forgot to mention the apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert.
So save a little room.
“Save a little room!” I don’t think my mother understands that
I’m paranoid about overeating. That statement drives me nuts.
When the mocking voice in my head is saying, “Look at you! You’re
already fat. Put down the fork. You don’t want to get fatter
than you already are!”
It would be a constant tug of war. In one ear, my mother encouraging
me to gorge myself. And in the other, a voice taunting me to stop
eating or be doomed to a body no one found attractive, not even
the family dog.
I was desperate, thinking of every possible excuse I could muster to
relieve myself of this dreadful obligation. But I knew how deeply it would
hurt my mother if I missed this special day. I knew that I could never
forgive myself. But I also knew the torture I would face as we sat
at the dining room table.
And then without explanation, another voice interrupted my thought.
It asked one question. “How long have you put up with this torment?”
The answer was ever since I was a teenager. Now I’m 25, I thought
to myself. And then the voice said, “Isn’t it time to make a change?”
I’m happy to say I’m doing just that. I will be getting the help I need to
overcome this agonizing disorder. And, this coming Mother’s Day I will
join my mother at her house with a newfound sense of confidence and
resolve because I know how much this day means to her and to me.
“Happy Mother’s Day….Mom.”