Moving to Plymouth wasn’t quite the new life I had hoped it would be. In fact it couldn’t be further than what I wanted. I finally felt I was settling down, but the reality was I was isolated and unsupported. I was now living 4.5 hours away from my family and it was clear from the start G’s family weren’t interested in bringing me into the fold. I remember inviting them over for dinner, trying to make the effort to embrace them into my new life and in response getting mostly disinterest or silence. G and I were together for around 2.5 years, and I remember going to his family for dinners even after 2 years and them make comments about if ‘I was still vegetarian’ and that they only had ‘normal gravy’ and that they could put a vegetable oxo cube in water for me as a vegetarian option, I felt alone and unwanted.
Moving to a new city was daunting and it took me a while to get work, so I spent large pieces of time at home on my own feeling very low in myself and just wanting to comfort myself – often with food. I took whatever temp work I could get as I felt guilty for G needing to pay most of the bills and my self-worth just plummeted. This wasn’t the new life I had hoped for.
There are so many factors in this relationship and my isolation that really started eating away at myself self-esteem, G became a fitness fanatic and I remember just feeling bigger and bigger and heavier and heavier as he became more and more interested in his fitness. He was going to the gym 2x a day and spending hours on the turbo trainer in the lounge. By this time I was working in a job doing shifts leading to me getting more and more tired and unmotivated. It was clear G was also quite insecure about how he looked as he always wore clothes, there was no walking round the house naked being comfortable with his and my body. Even after sex it would be underwear back on as quickly as possible and soon, alongside my unhappiness I started feeling more insecure about my body and if he found me attractive.
I remember one day him coming home and me having made the effort to get dressed up. Sexy basque stockings, heels, the lot, he opened the door took one look at me and said ‘oh… what’s for dinner’. I felt so exposed and ashamed for having put myself in that position, that after that I just switched off. I then just began to eat my feelings. By now I was 23, sad, unhappy and slowly ballooning up to an 18.5 stone size 22.
There were no photos of me, I couldn’t bear to have people see me eat and I didn’t want to leave the house. Oddly as I felt my body swelling in size, I felt like I was disappearing. I only have 1 photo of me that size, for two years it is like I didn’t exist… the disappearing fat girl.
Then one day I remember thinking that I just didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to have to fight with myself and food. I didn’t want to look in the mirror. I didn’t want there to be no pictures of me between now and 30. I remember thinking I would rather be dead.
The thought terrified me. That I could hate myself so much that I could wish my life away, and I knew I just couldn’t continue. For me it was make or break… So I did the right thing anyone should do when they feel like that, I picked up the phone and started to talk.