Growing up with an eating disorder, poor body image, and low self-esteem did something unexpected for me. It helped me raise two daring, outgoing, confident girls. I’m pretty sure the experts would say this is unusual, since many women with anorexia or bulimia are further triggered by the bodily changes brought about by pregnancy.
In my case, I had 20 years of battling an eating disorder under my belt by the time I finally became pregnant at 37. I’d always wanted children, even more so because I grew up without a mother. I so badly wanted to care for my own kids, that having them apparently saved me from my self-destructive thoughts and habits. Feeling the growth of another human life inside me kicked off my wondrous journey to self-acceptance and love.
When my eldest was born, I vowed I would never complain about myself in front of her, even when she was only a baby. Three years later, when I had my second child, all I had to do was keep on keeping that promise. I can’t really explain how that happened. Just like when an alcoholic is one day finally able to give up drinking, even after decades of failed attempts, I reached the point of no return when it came to stopping the years-long cycle of self-destruction. As my beautiful daughters grew up, by modeling self-love to them, loving myself became the new normal. And so they never ever saw me weigh myself, restrict my food, or criticize my appearance.
They did see me exercise, dance, practice sports, and pursue my passion as a writer. They also saw me leave a toxic marriage when they were little girls and later successfully build a blended family — the family I'd always wanted. All through this, they had to experience being on welfare, although all they understood was that a card that I called “food stamps” helped us buy the cereal they liked. They also watched me rise from the ashes by taking my writing career from print to online. In their eyes, posting stuff on social media took us to Disney World a bunch of times. That made me a kind of Wonder Woman in their eyes.
Every time they had their yearly checkups as kids, the doctor would ask them how they felt about themselves. I was amused when I saw a puzzled look on their faces. One or the other would inevitably blurt out: “I LOVE myself!” I was shocked. I was also ecstatic. I couldn’t remember ever feeling that way as a child. And knowing they loved themselves made me feel as if I’d been given a second chance.
One or the other would inevitably blurt out: 'I LOVE myself!'
My eldest, Chloe, was always a tomboy, roughhousing, playing basketball and skateboarding. She was often mistaken for a boy. I never once suggested she should be any different, even when a nurse once asked me whether I had considered therapy for her. I’m pretty chill, but that day I reacted viscerally, as if the nurse had suggested my daughter had committed a crime. Perhaps knowing that I had her back allowed my daughter to blossom into a confident young woman who isn’t afraid of being herself. At 18, she still dresses however she pleases and is sometimes confused for a young man. She doesn’t care. And neither do I.
Chloe recently graduated from high school, where she excelled at basketball. She worked really hard after classes during her senior year so she could spend the summer traveling in Europe. She recently moved in with my sister in California to go to college, work, and continue her travel adventures. She has a good head on her shoulders and has self-awareness and knowledge beyond her years.
My youngest, Alexia, is 15. She is a poster child for empathy, compassion, and self-confidence. This doesn’t mean she’s always sure of herself. However, I admire the fact that she’s able to recognize self-deprecating attitudes or behaviors. I’m in awe of how her brain works when it comes to tackling fears and daring to get out of her comfort zone. Like the time she auditioned for America’s Got Talent, singing a solo a capella, despite being painfully shy. Or when, more recently, she joined an Olympic-training boxing team, where she is one of only two girls in the group.
Looking back at the last 18 years, I truly and fully believe that what helped me raise two strong, confident girls was learning, for their sakes, to be the badass woman I was always meant to be. It’s really that simple.
