In order to understand why I see things the way that I do, I am going to give me you the story of me in the key of C.
I have been blessed (some days, I feel cursed) with an independent nature. I'm a natural at taking care of myself and the ones I deem close. I believe in being a strong, intelligent, black woman but I don't dwell in that "angry" stigma that plagues most black women. To me, life is way too short.
I'm not seen as an average black chick, a title that I abhor because who is average anyway? I was raised overseas in Germany for 5 years and spent the rest of my childhood and beyond in Maryland where I lived up until January 2005.
Moving to Maryland marked the beginning of all my issues.
Starting since the age of 9, I have suffered from an eating disorder. I'm currently in recovery but I struggle with this everyday.
I started smoking at age 12 on the first day I played hooky. I started chain smoking Newport Kings, shortly after that, which led me to have two serious cases of bronchitis.
I damaged my credit before I was 19. I was failing out of college, which I didn’t have to pay for because my father worked for the nearby community college.
Before 20, I was put in the hospital due to a pulmonary embolism (aka blood clot in the lungs). I personally thought I had another case of bronchitis and almost shrugged off going to the emergency room. Thankfully, I went and due to that I'm typing to you today.
After that I radically changed how I went about things. It was my "first" brush with death and I survived it. I became a vegetarian, which I still am. I also started Weight Watchers and began to lose weight the healthy way for the first time in my life. I was labeled as clinically obese due to my 5'5 frame carrying more than 250 pounds on it. I increased my GPA, made Dean's List my last two semesters and did a complete 180.
I also came out. Entered into an unhealthy, long term relationship and started relapsing into my eating disorder. We eventually split; I graduated and decided to move to Georgia.
In January of 2005, I moved to Georgia. I stopped succumbing to my eating disorder and went back to losing weight healthily. I started dating guys which challenged my sexual identity. I fell out with my father's family and the situation became very abusive eventually crushing all sense of my self esteem, which caused me to regress back into my self destructive habits.
During the course of this, I found out that my mother had cancer in August. It had spread all over by that time and was terminal. She was only 43; I flew back to Maryland to see her in the hospital. Where she confirmed to me (I was the only one) that she was dying. I extended my plane ticket and stayed with her for as long as I could allow. We talked, we made amends and in a weird way, she set me free. My mother passed away in October.
I went back to Georgia and work. I moved away from my father's family into an apartment. I built a life for myself one that was defined by me only.
Now, 3 years later I feel I'm finally strong enough to process and digest my life and all that encompasses it, finally. I'm still residing in Atlanta, I own a condo, my car and I work full time for a company that I love. My boss and his wife, who is also battling cancer have shaped my view point of families that are living with this disease and that you can follow your dreams and be happy doing it.
I'm here to be honest. To myself and to all that are reading this. I don't know all the answers; I just have the outcomes that I've learned from both good and bad experiences.
I want to show the ramifications of eating disorders in the black community about family issues, self esteem, being accountable for your actions and going for what you want in life. I want to speak out to all the nay-sayers of Generation Y because not all of us are narcissists and I'd like to show the other side of that picture.
I’m sure I’ll add more on to this but for right now this is me.
