This is a story about fear of death…
I grew up terrified of everything. Electricity, dogs, mealtimes, fairground rides… wait, what? Mealtimes?!?!
Yes, mealtimes were very stressful when I was a little boy. My parents had been to India and they thought it would be cool to give me very spicy food. It didn’t taste that spicy to them because – I might have mentioned this – but they were my parents and they had been to India. If you are an adult, in India, eating spicy food, you get used to it.
Also, if you are parents, and you have been to India, that means you are past puberty, hopefully past teenage years, hopefully past school, hopefully you’ve been working, plus 9 months, plus 3 or so years for your son to start eating solid food. All that time, you are losing your taste buds… your mouth is getting less sensitive to capscicum, which means it hurts less when you eat it.
If you force feed chilli to a young child, they will be pretty anxious about meal times.
I ended up vomiting before every meal, because of anxiety.
I remember waking up in hospital, malnourished. I got to eat cornflakes, not chilli. Eating cornflakes is nice. Eating chilli isn’t. They even had milk on them. Normally I wasn’t allowed liquids with my meal. Milk is quite a nice thing to have if your mouth is burning hot from chilli. I wonder if that’s why I wasn’t allowed to drink it with my meal?
Anyway, I’m sure my parents meant well. I mean, they gave me food after all. It’s not like I starved. Except when I did. Yes, there was that time that I ended up in hospital, because I was starving. We all make mistakes I guess. Like starving our children. Oops.
Guess I’m just a fussy eater.
Well, just about the only things I don’t eat today are sprouts and grapefruit. I’ve had a test and apparently I’m a supertaster, which means I’m picky, but not fussy. I can force myself to eat almost anything now… I was well trained as a child. I have even learned to like the taste of some things I used to find revolting, like Badoit mineral water, Indian Tonic water and olives.
I’m trying my best to forgive, forget and move on. If this blog is getting a bit dark and bitter, I’m sorry.
It’s also a bit weird, doing my private journal/diary in public. Weird, yes. I’m owning that as part of my identity. It’s been a term that has been thrown at me abusively in the past. I own it now. It’s mine. I’m weird. Yes me, I’m a weirdo, hello!
An anagram of weird is wired. I guess I’m just wired a little differently. I can taste things that other people can’t. I don’t see dead people, but perhaps I see things from a different perspective from you. Perhaps I see things from an equally valid, but distinct and unique perspective. Would that be possible? I hope so, because I like being me. I have tried to be the version of a person that somebody else imagines is possible to exist. It lands me in hospital every time. I’m not doing it again.
I refuse to be anybody other than me. No. I’m not doing it again. Go to hell. I’ve been there and I don’t like it. It’s your turn to go to hell.
Eternal damnation? Hell no, I won’t go.
I fed Frankie the cat even when I was starving to death. Animals and children are innocent victims sometimes. We need to use our adult brains and protect them (October 2013)
Tags: #childhood #parents #weird #privacy
Comments
4 responses to “Publish or Perish”
Wow, that’s poor parenting. How old were your parents when you were born? You make them sound very young. Mine were pretty old – both nearly 40 when I was born. They travelled a fair bit before settling down but luckily they didn’t try to force foods on me when I was young. My sister was more fussy than I was and she still won’t eat anything remotely spicy. When I was 13, I got recurrent tonsillitis and the antibiotics and infections weakened me. I got a virus that made me sick after eating and then after that the physical symptoms merged with an intense anxiety around eating. If I tried to eat in the middle of the day, or with other people around, I got anxious and felt sick and feverish and had to go outside. It was treated by my parents and the doctor as a purely physical problem, whereas I suspect it was largely psychological. I got to a point where all I would eat was weetabix first thing in the morning and then some boiled sweets because I felt sick if I even thought about eating anything else and the lack of nutrition made me more ill. I was prescribed anti-sickness medication (and more antibiotics). It gradually got better and about 6 months later I had my tonsils out which improved my overall health. I learned to distract myself by watching TV and then eating while I wasn’t aware of it. I avoided eating out for years because of anxiety but gradually got used to pubs and casual restaurants. I still get anxious if I go to proper restaurants with table service or if I’m with people I don’t know well. So I know how anxiety can have really powerful physical symptoms.
Go ahead and be yourself. I don’t think it’s possible to stay mentally well while living the way you think other people want you to be.
I really worry that people aren’t joining up the dots. In my mind, there are clear links between pressure, stress, anxiety, depression, suicide and a whole host of mental health issues that spring from being isolated. If we don’t accept that people are different, and stop shoehorning them into convenient boxes, we will be making millions and billions of lives pure misery. I’m trying to be myself now… it’s a new experience for me.
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