Clothing rack of women’s jeans, Source https://www.publicdomainpictures.net, Author Peter Griffin, (CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication)
“…Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God” (Matt. 4: 4).
It is late in the season. I wander from one clothing rack to another, searching for my size. The coats have been picked through. There are few remaining. It is unlikely I will be able to find a coat that fits, let alone flatters, me.
Please, God, I pray. Please, let me find something. I promise to lose weight. I promise to try harder.
One scar of the incest has been of such magnitude in my life that it warrants separate discussion. This is weight control. I have prayed as fervently in the Women’s Department as in any cathedral.
For an abuse victim, the difference between size 8 and size 18 is no mere matter of discipline. A child who is molested feels like offal. Whatever impulses drive her abuser, she is less than nothing in his eyes, and — despite his soothing words to the contrary — she knows it.
Against this backdrop, weight often becomes a problem. Eating disorders are common — anorexia, bulimia, binge eating, etc. [1][2][3][4]. In this, I am typical.
Distress, Defense, Punishment, and Shame
Food is a natural source of comfort for the sexually abused child, maladaptive when weight becomes an issue.
Weight serves many purposes. It is a distress signal: silent evidence of the molestation, the secret exposed. It is a defense, the child’s feeble attempt to create a physical barrier against the predator; later, an emotional barrier to adult relationships.
Increased weight is a psychological way of hiding from rejection. Failed relationships can be blamed on weight. However painful this approach may be, it is less painful than rejection of the “true self.”
Weight is punishment for misplaced guilt. The little girl cannot be forgiven for having engendered the violation (as if she did), and cannot forgive herself for being “unlovable.” So her anger turns inward, with depression the result.
The cycle repeats itself — over and over — as weight is gained, lost, and regained. In the process, weight becomes an alternate focus for the shame of the abuse.
All this is unconscious.
A Symbol of Rage and A Test
As the child grows into a woman, weight takes on even more shades of meaning. It embodies rage at men; shouts, in effect, “Damn them all! They’re vapid and shallow, anyway — unable to recognize real worth.”
It serves as a test for the woman. It serves as a test for the man she hopes will love her. It serves as punishment for the woman’s failure to be lovable, yet again.
Food as Love – An Analgesic and An Anesthetic
Food offers instant gratification while love, in her experience, does not.
Food is, of course, nourishment. As the body requires food, so the soul requires love. Love is vital. The soul craves it. Deprived of love, the soul starves. Food becomes the unsatisfactory substitute for love denied, an analgesic against the pain.
In terms of our anger at having been abused, food is more like an anesthetic. Unable to express that anger appropriately at the time, we forced it down with food, then “forgot” why we were eating (or denying ourselves food) so compulsively. Attempts to diet are futile because they do not address the underlying rage.
Distrust of God
While we may not think in such terms, at a deeper level, a disordered relationship with food by abuse victims reflects a distrust of God.
Since our needs were not met as children by those who stood in God’s shoes, we have little reason to believe that God will meet them now. So we try to meet them ourselves, try to assure that we will at least have as much (or little) food as we want.
But we cannot satisfy our hunger — our desire not only for love and justice, but for control over our own lives — since that hunger is emotional rather than physical.
God is capable of filling our needs. However, we must first put our trust in Him. For abuse victims, that can be a lifelong challenge.
All this applied to me; took me decades to decipher. Continue reading →
ANNA WALDHERR A Voice Reclaimed, Surviving Child Abuse 