DEPRESSION AND EATING

I have experienced depression during many periods of my life. Some bouts have been deeper than others, but they have all been quite taxing. Depression runs in my family quite a bit and I don’t dispute that the gene(s) runs strongly in me. I am quite sure that I was swerving in and out of mild and serious bouts of depression throughout my childhood and adolescence. As I mentioned in previous entries, my young years were marked by some very harrowing verbal abuse. I was the constant brunt of many jokes, pranks and taunts by school and neighborhood kids. My sexuality, weight, and overall appearance were considered a fair target for all that needed to vent their own frustration or mark their superiority. The daily dose of abuse severely hindered my ability to lead a normal childhood because the words penetrated my own self-perception and forever (at seemingly) altered the way I defined myself. I have little doubt that the abuse was a main contributor to deepening the depressive episodes and also very often led me to binge on food. Verbally assaulted and left with little esteem except for that which remained by my ability to still exceed academically, I turned to food for comfort and as a way of replenishing what ever identity I could salvage.

Today, while reality illuminates the years between the present and the abusive episodes, memories are quickly recollected whenever I pass a schoolyard, hear the yells of children as they pass by, or listen to the recount of other abusive experiences. I am also still prone to depression and guard against falling into deeper holes. I can easily turn to food whenever I feel down, and while the food does not provide the comfort it once did, I notice how behavioral habits are hard to break even when their effect is no longer felt. When I am feeling down I open my refrigerator over 40 times in a three hour period (I know – I counted). Even as I go toward the refrigerator I know that I will not get any food, but the mere act provides some “creature” comfort. The action connects me with the past but it also demonstrates my present growth – there isn’t the need to actually eat each time I go to the refrigerator.

Can anyone relate? I would love to hear from you.

Stay well, MBI