Acceptance is defined as "the act or process of accepting"; pretty simple eh? Although it may be for some, "accepting" has taken almost 26 years for me to accept. It wasn't until a recent hospital stay threw acceptance at my face; and I finally accepted it.
Here's my confession...
Ever since I can remember I have always loved food. In fact I loved food so much I would plan my day around food. It really never seemed to be an issue until it caught up with me around the age of 10. At that point I became aware that I was bigger than most of my friends and peers, but I didn't quite understand why. Bless my mother's heart she did the best she could to encourage healthy eating and activity. But the issue was that whatever I was feeling I ate them, whether it be happy, sad, scared; they all lead me to food.
I went on my first diet at the age of 10, and I have lost count of how many since then; in the hundreds at least. Through each failed attempt after another, I would feel worse and worse about myself; my self esteem was basically non existent. And just when I would start to make progress, I would give up on myself just as quick. It was like a constant battle, that I could not win.
What was the problem? Did I just love food? Was I addicted to food? Did I eat to make myself feel better? Was food even the problem?
Well here I am; I am almost 26 years old and finally accepting that I have a problem. My problem lies with food, and throughout this journey I hope to find out why.
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