anger, plain and simple.

this will probably be the most difficult entry i've written thus far.
i cried, and sobbed, and sniffled my way through this ten minute segment of oprah last night. it was late, i had just gotten out of the shower, and was checking channel 5 one last time for school closing updates - and certainly wasn't expecting to watch an intervention. i wish i could find the actual video for you to watch. i wish you could see the raw emotion in these teenagers' words and cries. because i see so much of myself in their stories. from first grade through this morning, pieces of my struggle are echoed in theirs.
as a part of the obesity intervention being conducted with a group of teenagers and their parents, the kids were asked to come to the middle of the circle and complete this statement: "i'm angry that..." you cannot imagine what poured out of them from there. i wept for their sorrow, i wept for how liberated they must have felt as they let these things escape their lips for the first time. i wept for their parents who were stunned and heartbroken. "i'm angry that i had to ask someone to prom." "i'm angry that my mom is my best friend, my only best friend." "i'm angry that my dad left on my birthday." "i'm angry that when i see pictures of myself i just want to rip them up." "i'm angry that i'd rather be dead than overweight."
i crawled in bed after having seen enough, and couldn't doze off until i rolled through my own mini mental list. please don't misunderstand me: i know as one who is free in Christ that anger should not rule my heart, and i assure you it no longer does. but i'm still scarred by instances in the past, and i absolutely feel that a stage of anger is necessary to heal and move forward. in order to know me authentically, you must understand where i have been. if you're ready for that, then the following list may give you a glimpse. and who knows, it may even free you up to vocalize your own. :] 'cause believe me, it feels good.
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i'm angry that there are no pictures of me smiling during my middle school years. i'm angry that there are barely any pictures of me from then at all. i'm angry that my mom had to cut out the tags of my t-shirts to stop the girls at school from reaching in to proclaim my size to everyone. i'm angry that i had to ask someone to prom too. i'm angry that when my co-workers begin talking about looks and what it means to be attractive, that i shrink in my chair and shut my mouth for fear they're all thinking the same thing: taylor wouldn't know anything about that. i'm angry that i fear my husband will take one look at me on our wedding night and change his mind. i'm angry that i constantly fear i'll never even get married at all. i'm angry that i gave in because i thought that was the best it would ever be for me. i'm angry that i loathe shopping for clothes because nothing ever looks good in the dressing room mirror. i'm angry that i lost thirty-five pounds my senior year of high school but still haven't met my goal weight. i'm angry that i have the tools and knowledge to change that, and yet i don't. i'm angry that i allowed comments and torments from kids at school to influence my opinion of myself. i'm angry that i never feel full. i'm angry that i gave up basketball because of the things people said to me during practice. i'm angry that my gorgeous senior photos were taken before my weight loss - making them not so gorgeous to me sometimes. i'm angry that i assumed being thin meant being happy. i'm angry that i feel out of place in most of my classes. i'm angry that i rarely left my house on friday nights. i'm angry that the people who were so mean to me in school would pretend to be my friends when they wanted something. i'm angry that i let them. i'm angry that i make jokes about my weight for fear i might not beat someone else to it. i'm angry that i rely on others for affirmation. i'm angry that i wasn't a star athlete like the rest of my family. i'm angry that the only think i'm good at is making great grades. i'm angry that even today, kids i serve at church tell me i'm fat. i'm angry that i've wasted so much time thinking about my weight.