I don’t diet, and this is why.
My mother had anorexia.
She was also bulimic.
She was never even close to being fat.
In fact, she was quite beautiful.
When I was 16, she taught me how to stick my finger down my throat.
I wasn’t fat either.
I soon understood how sick she was and I stopped. It was a teenaged phase.
My mom had a lot of things wrong with her. These things affected her maternal instincts, so I don’t blame her for not being the role model I needed.
But maybe she was a positive role model - because of her I learned in my late teens not to:
diet, drink alcohol, smoke, do drugs, or take prescription anything.
I became a Puritan, in a way.
I have flaws – but not the ones that belonged to her.
She was addicted to prescription pills.
Her death certificate says she died of alcoholic cirrhosis.
But really she died of grief.
These things were not what defined her. Like all of us, she was more than the sum of her flaws.
My mother was a survivor. A blonde, blue-eyed, petite warrior.
With a defiant sparkle in her eyes.
But her eyes were broken so she never saw her own beauty.
She survived WW II – in Berlin.
When she was just a girl she saw things that most of us will never see in our lifetimes. She reminded me of Meryl Streep in the movie, Sophie’s Choice.
After the war she survived 5 years in DP camps.
5 years.
She was a Displaced. Person.
She was also a Daddy’s girl. They were two peas in a pod.
She was 16 when they got out and moved to Canada. Her whole childhood gone. She emigrated with her only possessions: her family, and her intelligence.
Nothing else.
There were straight A’s. Scholarships. A Master’s degree.
A Ph.D. from U.C. Berkeley.
A lot of people think alcoholics are dumb, but she was no dummy.
She had a disease.
A dis-ease, I call it.
I think she saw too much. I think she needed to turn the volume down on what she saw.
She became a professor and a linguist, but mostly she was a chameleon. Expert at hiding who she really was, even from herself.
She could speak to you in Russian, Lithuanian, German, or French.
English without the trace of an accent.
And with me, Pig-Latin.
I-yay oved-lay er-hay.
Then her father hung himself two months before I was born.
She never spoke of it.
He suffered from manic depression, the family illness, so the specter of this was looming over her for a long time. He had just been released from the hospital that same day that he died.
They thought he was better but it turned out that he wasn’t.
He was no dummy.
He also had a Ph.D.
A sparkle in his eyes.
Probably, like her – he saw too many things and needed to turn down the volume.
She couldn’t save him.
After she met my dad and had us there was some happiness, the lure of her bright future.
Then my little sister Gail died.
She was two.
My mom broke in two, after that.
She never spoke of it.
I would find her sitting on the floor surrounded by pictures of Gail, sobbing. She would hug me too hard.
She got addicted to the idea of losing weight. If she could just lose 5 pounds, she’d be okay. She just needed to be perfect.
That became the thing she chased after.
It distracted her.
She believed being thin would fill the hole in her heart.
It doesn’t matter that she already was thin.
I watched her get shots, take diet pills, over-exercise, go on liquid diets, drink protein shakes, not drink protein shakes, and faint from low blood sugar. I watched her binge and purge. She tried Nutrisystem, Scarsdale, the Grapefruit Diet, Atkins, Weight Watchers.
You name it. She tried it.
I equate her kind of dieting with self-hatred.
I watched my mom fade away and become even tinier.
We tried to get her to eat but she wouldn’t. She got most of her calories from alcohol.
I had her brought by ambulance to the hospital against her will, and against my father’s will. I’m pretty sure she would have died that night, if she hadn’t gone to the hospital.
I went to visit her the next day when she had some fluids in her – she was back to her old self, watching Days of Our Lives on TV.
She looked so tiny in that hospital bed.
I couldn’t save her.
In that room she did something I can’t forget.
She held up her arm.
It was so thin, in that hospital gown.
She probably weighed less than 90 pounds.
“Look!” she said, holding up her arm.
“Look how thin I am!”
Her blue eyes were sparkling.
She died two weeks later.
She was 63.
She was my mother.
I-yay oved-lay er-hay.
I love this post – I can relate so many of her traits to my mother, my sister and myself. In this one blog post, I felt like I’d known your mom her whole life. I hope you gained some release from writing it, it was beautiful.
Just read an amazing post by @AdoTheMomalog http://t.co/eTP9qeQ3 about her mothers lifelong battle, and the sparkle in her eyes.
Your writing is more than a talent, it’s a gift and I thank you for sharing it.
Your post grips my heart. I admire how much compassion and understanding you have for your mother, despite how much pain she caused you. Beautifully written.
This post leaves me emotionally wasted. You put feelings to words brilliantly…and it hurts. Maybe I can say more later, but now I need to go hug my daughter and cry on the sofa.
Beautiful. You are a true miracle.
This is heartbreaking in it’s vulnerability.
Thank you for sharing your wonderful gift of words.
moved me to tears! so much i did not know about your mother (or forgot)…i do know she was kind to me and I knew she was no dummy!!
so well written…your mother lives on in you!!
Thank you Julia. (-:
Haunting, beautiful, gut wrenching…and I second what Stacey said. You are a true miracle – a brave, wonderful, strong woman and amazing Mother. I feel humbled and so incredibly lucky to have met you.
Oh, wow. What an incredible post. And you’re incredible for putting it all out there.
This post is amazing, and you are amazing. Thank you for letting us in. I am so glad you have been able to empathize with and analyze the person your mother was – I hope it has helped you in your healing process.
Adrienne, this brought back a flood of memories and tears to my eyes. Your mom was like a second mother to me and to this day I can hear her exclaim; ” Little Julie!”
She was a beautiful, intelligent, loving woman. Her evening tears always broke my heart.
A beautifully written tribute.
Love,
Julie
You were such a fixture in my childhood – you saw way more than anyone did, through the years. And I always knew how much you loved her Julie. Even the way you have fantastic child-oriented birthday parties and events – reminds me of her. Once you told me you loved how giving she was – she just spoiled us didn’t she? Especially at carpool. And I see a lot of that same generosity in you w your parenting, my old friend. xo
Why I don’t diet: “My Mother’s Body” – http://t.co/vUvy3LQu
Despite her dis-ease, I know your mother was an incredible woman. I mean, look at YOU, Ado. And at your daughters.
A beautiful tribute. xo
With tears rolling down my face, I don’t have adequate words to express just how lovely and heartwrenching this post is…..
Your posts often leave me without words. “She really died of grief.” Is there anything more deadly? I need to read this a few more times to take it all. Beautiful writing.
Absolutely beautiful. We have a lot in common and didn’t even realize it. You and your daughters are amazing. Your mom lives through you and your girls.
Please read this post by @AdoTheMomalog. It’s so painfully beautiful. It’s about dieting but not really. Just read it. http://t.co/2u7jHpN3
This is a touching post. RT @AdoTheMomalog: Why I don’t diet: “My Mother’s Body” – http://t.co/hhaRVWSJ
#FF @AdoTheMomalog because she blows me away EVERY time in her writing, in her stories. With who she is & how she is. http://t.co/GhOS7vEV
Thank you for having the courage to share this amazing writing. You painted a picture of your mother that is from an honest, empathetic eye–a picture that can save the lives of others.
Another brilliant, beautiful and haunting post from: “@AdoTheMomalog: Why I don’t diet: “My Mother’s Body” – http://t.co/TCvmDrmT” READ!!!
hauntingly beautiful and heartbreaking. You show such compassion for your mother despite her illnesses and how they must have effected you.
Thanks and alcoholism/addiction issues, they sure do effect the family members negatively, and hopefully in some ways positively – but I’d rather not have gone through any of it.
The thing I always tell people is: children *know* if their parent is struggling with an addiction, even if the parent(s) don’t think the kids know/don’t think their addiction is affecting the kids. They know, and it affects them.
Oh my heart, this is stunning writing. The true “rip open vein writing.”
{I really have no words, I just wanted you to know that I read and heard you.}
(((Thanks for all of your comments everybody. Means a lot.)))
I think this may be her heart written out for us. I’m in awe of her strength to share this. http://t.co/YvOLmDpg via @AdoTheMomalog
I don’t know what to say Ado. I have endured parental alcoholism but nothing to this nature. I am in awe of your ability to share this. I can tell you just wrote, no thinking, just writing. I hope it helped you.
My Mother’s Body http://t.co/M9mdbqT1 #childrenofalcoholics #depression #motherhood
It takes brute gut strength to write like this. Your mother may have been a DP, both literally and metaphorically, but you seem to have been given many of her gifts–not the least of which is that strength. You seem also to have learned, from her displacement(s) to create your own sense of place and your own sense of rootedness. Your mother may have been thin in her body but it sounds as if her soul and her spirit had heft, had weight, gravitas.
Wow Deborah, I couldn’t have put it better myself. Thank you for those words – yes, she had a hefty soul, and I learned from it. (-:
There are no words for this post except…may the Powers that Be bless your heart and the soul of your mother.
No one should endure the grief and sights she did.
No child should have to endure the suffering of a parent.
The entire situation reeks of the unspoken taboos of society.
I do not know you, but I am proud to have been in the presence of someone strong enough to talk about those things we often keep hidden.
Your post touched me deeply as my mother is an alcoholic as well. I have been watching her self-destruct knowing that I cannot save her (I’ve tried). Even though she hasn’t been the perfect mother, I still love her and remember our good times. Most importantly, she has taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my life: what my kids need most from me. Thank you for sharing, I wish I had the courage.
You do have the courage – you just shared it. (-: Also for me the lessons I’ve learned from my alcoholic parents (my father was one too) were hard-won but really important ones. I learned real empathy from them – every single time I meet an alcoholic, hear a story of someone who is struggling – and as you probably know, there seems to be an alcoholic in almost every other family (and they leave a big wake in the lives of all who know them) – I feel deep and true empathy for them. And in my mother’s case – she was an alcoholic and addicted to prescriptions, but I think the “bottom layer” – the origin of her problem – was self-hatred, and she punished herself by withholding food and self-love “until she was thin” – because of the self-hatred. All of it a really sad cycle.
One thing that saved me – Alanon meetings. I still go even though my parents are gone. The people left behind by alcoholics – their families, their children – have a lot of guilt, what-ifs, and issues – Alanon is a great place to figure all this stuff out, and it’s also free. (-: Thanks for your courage…
this was so lovely- thank you for sharing. xo
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing. You made me sob. My mother was an alcoholic and had manic depression. She committed suicide when I was 16. My stepmother had anorexia and bulimia and has affected the way I look at my body my whole life. It means so much read someone’s heart on a page x
Kristen – I’m so, so sorry. Sending you x’s and o’s.
That was amazing! Thank you for sharing and bringing a new perspective to me.
This resonates deeply. I could write so much, but I will simply offer my most heartfelt thanks. Thank you for expressing yourself, thank you for sharing.
This was beautiful and heart wrenching. Your own strength glows in your writing.
Thank you for being so brave to share this. Sadly I can relate.
But positively I can relate to being spurred on and inspired by the things I do not want to repeat for my daughter x
Amazing portrait of your mother. My dad is also an alcoholic and has used a way array of drugs. I admire the fact that you can still see the good in your parents. I used to see my dad through rose colored glasses. When I had my own children my views of him completely changed. It’s hard for me to be sympathetic. I guess it really is a disease, but I can’t remember him ever even making an effort to get better. I haven’t spoken to him in about 5 years. Nothing happened, but he hasn’t called me and I haven’t tried to find him. The sad thing is I’m starting to forget the good memories of him that I did have. All I can really remember any more are the negative things about him. Kuddos to you for being better than that.I’m sure both of your parents would be proud.
thank you for your inspiring bravery!
Thank you for sharing this powerful story. While reading it, I thought of my own family (my grandmother and my mother) and the horrible things that my grandmother lived through and the mental illness and so much more. I have frequently told my mom how proud I am that she was strong and managed to be so loving in the face of all that.
Your mother must have been AMAZING. I am sorry that she didn’t know how amazing she was. It seems like it is so much easier for a person to believe the negative than the positive sometimes. Everyone struggles with something. You are truly inspirational. I love your message of empathy for people with a dis-ease. That’s exactly what it is. I pray that our society removes the stigma from getting treatment for mental dis-ease.
Thank you again!
Your mother is lucky to have a daughter like you who sees her strength, and celebrates it.
And thank you so much for your kind words. (-:
I loved this painfully stunning post at The Momalog, an amazing blog I just discovered. Please read her beautiful… http://t.co/emAR1zA4
So elequently written. All of your feelings of helplessness, love and heartbreak and shine through your words. Xo Megan
xo Megan (-:
My sister-in-law recently committed suicide, after a long road of abusing many substances and people. Thank you for sharing this, it helped to remind me, through the anger, that she was just struggling with the terrible monster of pain. You words have the bravery and empathy I hope to find someday in this sea of darkness. Thank you.
Alicia, I’m so sorry that you lost your sister-in-law to suicide. I’m glad maybe this post helped in some miniscule way. Suicide doesn’t just end the pain for the one who is suffering – it burdens those left behind with all kinds of what-ifs and sadness. I’ve always thought that alcoholism and anorexia are also methods of suicide – much slower suicide, but suicide nevertheless – because in the end, those people have in effect killed themselves. So sorry for your loss.
My Mother’s Body http://t.co/dRJrYUPd Beautifully done, @AdoTheMomalog
Thanks to The Leaky Boob & others, over 4,000 people have read this post in the last day: http://t.co/vUvy3LQu
#alcoholism #anorexia
Moving piece from @AdoTheMomalog about her mother’s struggles with undiagnosed mental illness: My Mother’s Body http://t.co/saziF7F1
This is heartbreaking — there was so little understanding of mental illness in your mother’s day. What a difference the right mental health treatment might have made in her life, and in your family’s.
Oh Ado, your writing just left me breathless… Thank you for sharing this with us with so much honestly and sincerity. You wouldn’t imagine how much of your mother’s story resonated in my own life and in my experiences with my own mother.
Alcoholism, eating disorders and depression do not discriminate. They do happen to the best of us. And how well they could be hidden.
Such an honest and heart breaking post. So sad that the brilliant and beautiful woman your mother was could be so tortured. Good for you for taking a different path.
MOst of my life choices stem from beating the mistakes my mother and grandmother made. So beautifully written my friend.
Oh, my. I’m glad you learned the lessons your mother never did. I’m so sorry that you both suffered.
I haven’t the words sitting in front of such a powerful story, except to say thank you. I was one of the lucky kids…but I appreciate your courage in hitting the “post” button – and the chance to help someone else who reads this. You are amazing!
We read this & can’t stop thinking about it. How does your relationship w/ your mom influence your breastfeeding goals? http://t.co/KyvJbm7o
This is gripping, brave, heartbreaking—–>My Mother’s Body http://t.co/9ExyzPLp
Thank you for so bravely sharing your story. I am moved and inspired by your strength.
Thank you for posting this. It is a wonderful, terrible story, and it emphasizes how important our mothers are, even when they are fragile. I guess because a terrible world couldn’t be controlled, and because anxiety and grief became too big, your mother tried to control herself–to death. I miss my mother so, so, so, so much. You must as well.
I’m still reeling and should probably process before I try to comment, but I wanted to say thank you.
I lost my mom almost 3 years ago, and like yours she was way too young. She also had her flaws, a deep depression she never addressed, and a lot of hurts. I’ve found it difficult to write about her and how much she meant to me, because speaking of her shortcomings feels like a betrayal. This piece just so beautifully captures the whole woman your mother was, and in reading this I find it comforting that tribute doesn’t mean denying the darker spots. I hope I can get it out eventually too;)
Thanks again for this beautiful piece.
Hit me like a ton of bricks–a beautiful read: My Mother’s Body http://t.co/AcA2lPVU via @AdoTheMomalog (thanks for linking, @jlweinberg)
Thanks for your heartfelt comment, Julie. I know just what you mean about how talking about their dark side can feel like a betrayal. Let me know, if ever you do write about it. I would live to read it.
I don’t ever really know how to comment on things like this except to say it’s well written, and it made me feel, and that I’m sorry your mom couldn’t make peace with herself, and that I’m happy you’ve made peace with her despite it.
Another amazing post @AdoTheMomalog: my mother’s body http://t.co/noVMrhod #lovelinks
Wow. Your Mom was a strong woman (if she had only been able to see it/give herself credit for it). I don’t know you but I know she would be SO very proud. Thanks for sharing this beautiful, honest post.
This post is haunting and raw.
It speaks to the reality of mental illness and really effected me.
I live with depression and mood disorder every single day and I know how easy it is to slip into substance abuse rather than deal with your problems.
But that is no life either.
I am so sorry that you endure this.
That your mother endure it.
But this sorry?
It will help others.
Thank you so very much for writing it.
I’ve read your posts on some of these topics Leighann and they are always very moving and heartfelt.
Thanks for giving us an emotional glimpse into your mothers struggles and your life. I read this and loved this when you posted it… and still feel the same visiting it through LoveLinks…
Well this was just beautiful and haunting and lovely and so sad. You’ve really captured the complexity of her life and her struggles. We all have a story, no matter how we appear on the outside. Thank you for telling hers.
…and so often the person’s story and who they appear to be are just hugely different. I always find that fascinating.
Thank you for sharing your truth and heartbreak with us. It was a bold, beautiful and sad tribute. My heart goes out to you.
Wow, Ado. I think you know exactly who your mother was and I think that’s amazing. I’m still trying to figure mine out. These things are very complex. This was a very moving piece.
Just read http://t.co/kjeUFr5B as part of #lovelinks and now I just can’t read any more @freefringes @AdoTheMomalog
Wow. I’m speechless. This is haunting and amazingly written. I’m glad you took the lesson of what not to do out of all this.
This post was amazing. It reminded me so much of my own grandmother and made me tear up. You put things into words that I had not been able to and the phrases so perfectly described the feelings. Thank you so much for sharing this.
You’re welcome.
Wow, Ado. This post is amazing, and your mother sounds amazing in so many ways. How sad that she died young. I’m so sorry.
Three things struck me because I always manage to relate your amazing writing to something in my life:
1) My husband is an alcoholic (sober for almost 3 years now). And he’s not stupid. It IS a disease, and I hope my girls learn from him like you did from your mother that it is a particular problem for our family and never go down that path.
2) He was also anorexic (strange as that may seem) when he was younger. I hope my girls never feel that way either, but it’s so hard for me to realize how weight-conscious they can be already at only 10 and 8. It’s scary, and I just want to protect them.
3) My mother-in-law died two years ago at the age of 59, and this post really made me think of her. Her husband (my husband’s dad) died when she was 43, and she was left to raise 4 kids on her own. And she never got over it and never knew how to handle it. She made a lot of mistakes, but we still loved her. And it’s still a bit sad.
Wow Katie – a lot of similarities in your family and mine. I don’t think it’s that rare that men have anorexia – I have known one, possibly two men who had their own struggles with it. One friend came from a family of obese people – and his response was anorexia. It’s not nearly as common as with women but it is out there. And your MIL – my heart goes out to her. I don’t know what I would do in her shoes, in that time, either – you know? And w. your husband – the kids learn so much from 12-step parents, including sometimes what not to do. So glad he is sober and has you there to cheer him on. (-:
I don’t know what to say. This is heart wrenching to say the least. I am so sorry this happened. I am so sorry your mother harbored so many demons, demons that are inside many of us, needing to be cured or dealt with. This is a very powerful story. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for your comment Laura. (-:
What a whirl, Ado. It always amazes me of those who survive. From what you have disclosed, you have done more then survived your mother’s abuses and misuses, you have thrived.
Thank you for sharing, for your openness and your words.
Speechless. And I’m NEVER quiet.
Thanks Kim. (-:
What a touching and powerful tribute. Though my mother passed away from a totally different type of illness after a different type of difficult life, it was still so hard to watch knowing there was nothing I could do to help. She started chemo the day after she turned 65. She didn’t make it to 66.
I’m so sorry for your sad loss. 65 is way, way too young.
Vivid. emotionally harrowing. powerful. so much family history, so much insight and perspective. So grateful that you wrote this out and hit publish. *HUG*
Hey Frelle well you were the trailblazer on pushing the Publish button bravely, so thank you. (-:
I actually read this post a few days ago and days later it is still with me. I admire your courage to write with both honesty and compassion about what clearly is a very personal issue for you and your family. There is obviously a great need for helping folks find a voice around such very hard issues. While I had stepparents who were alcoholics and friends with severe eating disorders I cannot imagine if all of this were wrapped up in my mom. Such s moving post…
Thank you – and I just cannot believe the number of comments here and the number of people who have read this post. I think that the interest in it is a testament to the power of honesty. This topic is something I have kept hidden for most of my life – and the flood of people who were touched by it and so kind when I wrote it – just…wow.
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Oh my heart. It’s sitting heavy in my chest with the weight of these words. And the incredible lightness of them.
I can imagine the burden. Burdens. The ones she carried and the ones you have carried before sharing this.
I’m glad you shared it. The words are beautiful and the sentiment is without compare. Thank you.
A truly honest text. Thanks you for sharing your personal inner emotions. I really feel sorry about your mother, it must had been a hard thing while you were a teenager. But I glad about that it didn’t break you.
You bring so much beauty out of so much sadness.
You had me in tears. I’m so sorry your Mom, Grandpa and you had to endure so much in your life.
I’m also glad you found the courage to write about this and to share it with so many others out there who are probably dealing with similar things.
Like Lady Jennie said above me, you brought so much beauty (and love) out of so much sadness.
*Hugs* to you.
I have tears running down my face sitting in Starbucks. I admire and am jealous of your sharing. I felt the prick of the phrase “needing to turn the volume down.” I think you just gave me a way to describe my father beyond the label bipolar.
Your writing is beautiful and meaningful. Thank you. Ellen
Thank you so much Ellen. PS: Sorry for the Starbucks tears. (-:
What a powerful post. I can be liberating, can’t it? I am glad you wrote it. I found myself nodding a few times while I was reading, like when you said that alcoholism is a disease – which it is, and that she died from grief – too many people don’t understand what a burden it really is for the people going through it.
Cry.
She seemed like a very powerful woman, and this is a beautiful tribute to her.
Thank you.
You’ve captured a sense of your mother and your relationship in a way that it felt like poetry. So beautiful yet so bittersweet. Behind every dis-ease is a pain we cannot even imagine. Of this I am sure.
Very powerful piece about your mom, so brave of you to put it out there! (I so enjoy reading all your writing!)
I had a different experience with my dad, later in life, but also related to alcohol and pills, you can read it here when you have time: http://shoulderstothetrees.blogspot.com (Would love to hear your thoughts.)
Oh my gosh. Bless your heart. And your mom’s, too.
Thanks Janet.
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I have to wonder how different the lives of our troubled mothers would have been if they had found each other and shared and learned they way we do. This internet thing is a blessing in my life.
Such a great point. Maybe they would have found it to be less isolating, and they could have found more information and connection.
My post about why I don’t diet turned out to be my most popular one. My Mother’s Body http://t.co/3rKAnwYPAn #anorexia #dieting #parenting
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I don’t really read blogs & I have never posted on any that I have read. But I was struggling with my mothers alcoholic ways this evening and stumbled upon this and some of the words you chose really touched my heart. Thank you for sharing such beautiful yet personal things about you. I wish my mother could read this and get it. But she never will.
Hi Stephanie, Thanks for stopping by. I’m so sorry about your mom. That kind of pain for a daughter – it’s the worst. xo