I just read this article and I can’t shake it . My heart is breaking. The honesty and courage it took to write this is breathtaking.
I’ve lived with it up close. Not me. My husband (Tom also, as that fucking trickster universe would have it)
Tom is dead, died at 51 in 2006.
I can hear this guy not wanting to die. I can hear the pain and desperation,the inability to understand his addiction. He was a fat child, as was my Tom. How did it start? Why?
I surely don ‘t have the answers. I’m not going to even try. Read the article. Find compassion.
Here is a story about my Tom. I haven’t thought of this in years.
When our son was heading towards kindergarten, Tom went on a medically supervised fast. He ate nothing, NOTHING, for months. He did it because he did not want his son to be embarrassed or to have to hear about his fat dad.
One night towards the end of this process he and I went shopping . He never used to shop because he was fat and it was depressing for him. He had lost weight before we married but he was still a big guy. He was on an uphill roll, a size larger every few months. He had minimal wearable clothes but a lot of clothes too small. Someday, right? But now he was going down. He had been thru all the clothes he had that still fit him from thinner ( a relative term) days. He began cautiously buying clothes that were sizes he didn’t even remember, a piece at a time.
Back to the shopping trip. We went into the Gap. I was shopping……he couldn’t possibly wear anything from there. But there was this shirt he was looking at. I urged him to try it on. He looked at me as if he could kill and kiss me at the same time. Kiss me for believing it could fit him and kill me for suggesting he put himself through that torture. He took the shirt into the fitting room. He was in there for a long while.
He finally called me into the room.The shirt was on and it fit. It was a size XL. ONE X. He told me he had never worn an XL that he could remember.
He was crying.
That night surely was the most courageous moment of this whole process.
I’m crying so hard right now as I type this.
I haven’t thought of that in years and it breaks my heart.
January is the month he died. I hate this fucking month.
Go be nice to a fat person. No judgement. No shame.
Hell, be nice to everyone.
We just don’t know what is going on underneath it all. Some people show it on the outside, others don’t.
You can’t know that I have lived with a broken heart, irreparable ,for all these years…you can’t look at me and see that!
Be kind, just be kind.