Sherri’s Story: Finding a place of self-acceptance
At the young age of 10, I knew I was “fat.” Negative comments from family and peers about my weight clearly sent the message I did not look how I should. The more and more I was exposed to those toxic remarks, the more devastating the impact on my self-esteem and self-confidence. By 12, as boys and girls started to notice each other on a different level, I found myself uncomfortable in my own skin. I was afraid of rejection and humiliation so kept any crush to myself and tried my best not to stand out. But kids can be cruel and I often fell prey to the butt of many a “fat” joke.
It wasn’t all bad though. I had a great group of friends, took part in drama club and did well in my classes. I tried to excel in the areas I could to compensate for what I felt were the failings of my body. And while my parents were supportive and loving, I never shared with them the pain and hurt I was experiencing or how much I hated my reflection in the mirror.
As far as anyone was concerned, I was the happy-go-lucky friend and daughter who was fun to be around and who was never bothered by mean remarks from others. I would never cry in front of anyone for fear of being vulnerable or weak, and covered my feelings with humour. I remember desperately wanting to be liked and noticed by boys and the rejection was, at times, unbearable. Focusing on others gave me purpose. I helped friends with their issues and soon became a confidant for all of my friends. It gave me purpose, while I was depriving myself of my own emotional needs.
“The more I tried to blend in, the more I was singled out and belittled for how I looked.”
When I would stand up for myself, I would get called names and shamed in front of other peers. I couldn’t win. So I would hold it all together until I’d get home and fall apart in my room. I’d cry uncontrollably to my dog and every time, felt a little piece of my self-worth disappear.
At the age of 15, I had had enough. My brother’s girlfriend at the time had lost a lot of weight in recent years. She was beautiful and it inspired me to take control. I was 180 lbs at the time.
My weight loss journey began with me walking daily and slowly reducing my food intake. After seeing positive results in such a short amount of time, I felt so successful. The number on the scale decreased and I felt a sense of power and control I had not experienced up to this point in my life. As time went on and I continued to see positive results, I became greedy, wanting the number on the scale to keep dropping. So, I pushed myself to exercise more and more and eat less and less. Weight loss was like a drug and I was hooked. I began counting calories and making sure I exercised after every meal.
For awhile, life was good, I was getting the positive attention I had wanted from family and peers. I was being noticed by boys who had never blinked an eye in my direction before. I could shop for clothes that were trendy and finally I felt like I fit in and was accepted. The encouraging experiences and comments about my weight loss only fed my desire to lose more pounds. I joined hockey, badminton and cross country running to push myself as hard as I could physically. Academically, I did the same. A desire to be perfect at everything I did became my driving force.
“It was the perfectionist tendencies that set me up for failure — my goals were unattainable.”
The scale was never low enough, and my grades were never high enough. I was caught on a rollercoaster that I could not get off.
By the time I entered my grade 12 year of high school at age 17, I was eating a total of 900 calories a day and exercising excessively, burning off about 1,500 calories a day. I had every meal and snack planned out in my head a day in advance and I knew the calorie value of everything I ate so I could control my calorie intake. Being prepared and in total control of what I ate came before anything else in my life. I began to isolate myself from my friends and social situations to avoid the temptation to eat foods that were not on my daily meal plan. I also wanted to avoid any negative comments about how skinny I was or questions about why I wasn’t eating. I had to protect myself and weight loss goals at any cost.
As my final year of high school went on, I got thinner and thinner, my health was suffering, and I had lost many of my friends. My hair was thin and brittle, my skin pale and dry, and I was always cold. My energy levels were low, I developed acid reflux and began to have attacks where my heart would race, followed by excessive sweating and weakness. I felt scared, sad, and lonely most of the time but refused to admit I had a problem. As much as I wanted to stop I couldn’t. There was this voice inside my head pushing me to be skinner, to get the best grades and to exercise as much as possible.
My parents were very concerned and kept a close watch over me. And while they had convinced me to see a counsellor and dietitian, I figured out how to make it look like I was eating more and saying the right things to the counsellor.
“The eating disorder had a hold on me like a chain around my neck that got tighter any time I tried to resist.”
I remember one night, sitting in my bed crying uncontrollably because I couldn’t decide if I should eat a cracker or not and my Dad just looking at me saying, “just eat, Sherri.” He was frustrated and couldn’t understand what was happening, and worst of all he was upset that he couldn’t help. At that moment I felt so much guilt and shame because of what I was putting my parents through.
By the end of grade 12, I weighed 102 lbs.
I started university to study social work because I had a deep desire to help others and I recognized my skill of being a good listener. But I was still struggling. While I made new friends and felt better, I was still weighing myself daily and it was important to me to ensure my clothes fit.
And then I hit rock bottom.
I had spent three years trying to be in control of every detail of my life and pushing myself to unrealistic expectations — my body and mind had had enough. I started having severe panic attacks and was paralyzed in bed. I couldn’t stand to be alone. I couldn’t make decisions and would cry uncontrollably for hours.
It was my mother who said “enough” and took me to our family doctor. I was on the road to self-destruction and at this point, I was ready to get off the rollercoaster and make changes for my mental and physical well-being.
It took a supportive team of people, including my doctor, who prescribed me anxiety and OCD medications, a dietitian whose meal plan I followed and weekly mental health counselling to work on separating who I was from the eating disorder.
This exploration into my core being and the person I wanted to be helped me to realize that I was not the problem. Rather, I was a person experiencing a problem that I had the ability to overcome.
My journey of recovery took a long time, and I had to face feelings and experiences I wanted to keep buried. There were many painful moments, but with the love and support from people who cared about me, I grew in self awareness and self acceptance.
In 2005, I graduated university with my social work degree and moved to Fort McMurray with my partner. I would be wrong to say that I didn’t have setbacks and fall into bad habits with my eating, exercising and body image. But I also had successes where I enjoy food without guilt.
It has been an ongoing journey for which I am grateful. The challenges I’ve faced and the struggles I endured, they are part of me and have made me realize what I’m capable of overcoming.
At 38 years old, I have a wonderful family with a supportive husband and three kids. At times, things are dysfunctional and chaotic but we love each other wholeheartedly. I love my job as a social worker, and I am working towards finishing a master’s in social work this fall.
My life is far from perfect because there is no such thing and I like it that way. Perfect is a word that in my opinion should not exist as it is unrealistic and unattainable.
Striving for personal growth and self compassion on the other hand is realistic because we as individuals’ matter. We are all important and deserve to be loved and to give love. Giving ourselves permission to be happy is a beautiful gift. So, the next time we look in the mirror, let’s all say to ourselves:
Today, I choose happiness and love, because I matter.
Thank you for reading my story and helping to honour the journey that has brought me to a place of acceptance of who I am and who I continue to become.
-Sherri
Sherri Bennett is the Health and Wellness Manager at Some Other Solutions. Originally from Newfoundland, Sherri has lived and worked in Fort McMurray for 15 years. She is passionate about supporting health and wellness in our community.