I Don’t Know What to Do

There have been times in the last few weeks where I badly wanted to write, where I had something to get off my chest or share or just put down to order my thoughts. What kept me from writing was my old friend Trying-to-please-everybody. I know a few of my followers and therefore imagine how they might react to my posts. I want to write things everybody will like, and that doesn’t work. I started this blog to put myself ‚out there’ a little, not to purposely entertain. So, to stay true to myself I have to silence the voice inside my head telling me I write only about myself, that ‚I’ is the word I use most, that my English is horrible, that I’m selfish and superficial and boring. I need to tell myself that I’m ALLOWED to be all that if I want. I need to write more for myself.

So. The most pressing matter first. My sister found my blog AGAIN. I overheard her say something about it to our mother. She also said she didn’t read it anymore, which would be a good thing. The statistics and search terms didn’t show many hits from my country, so I assumed they were my own views, but I might have missed hers. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to write with my sister in mind. I would write FOR her, more than for any of my other followers. I know her better, and I want to explain myself to her more. We can’t talk. We used to, and sometimes we have arguments that end in confidential talks, but they are rare. I really don’t want to move my blog again and lose the great features of WordPress, my lovely blog title and the little group of fellow bloggers I have come to know. All I can do is hope my sister really doesn’t read this blog anymore. She said it was too upsetting, if I heard it right.

Since the Great Argument (my sisters found my blog, where I posted an unkind rant about them. I posted no real names or anything, I must say to my defence.), well, since this argument last October, when they were both very angry with me and I with them, my sister Dinah has become progressively more hostile towards me. It began with not wanting to hear about weight loss or calories and has gone so far that she can’t be in the same room with me or even, I think, hear my voice. As far as I know, everything about me makes her miserable. She is struggling with depression and very low self-esteem. She used to struggle with eating disorders, and believed that she had overcome them. She is thin but healthy and has been eating intuitively for the last few years, that is eating what she wants when she’s hungry and stopping when she’s satisfied. It works for her. It didn’t work for me; something in the back of my mind was still nagging me about ‘unhealthy’ food, and I was eating emotionally. That is why I changed my approach, gradually, to my current way of eating. In Dinah’s eyes, this was a regression. She thinks I am ‘on a diet’ and betraying my natural instincts about food. And I agree, in a way. But I am eating according to my ingrained beliefs about what is healthy and will help me lose weight, and I have never eaten with so little tension before as when I eat a yummy, balanced, healthy meal of whole foods. It works for me at the moment. But it makes Dinah think her old thoughts about what is ‘good’ or ‘bad’, all she has fought so hard to let go. She says (never to me, but Mother tells me) that seeing me weigh or prepare food, write things down, even just eat what I eat, makes her unable to listen to her body. She says she imagines me looking at her food and judging her for her choices. To her, I am a walking eating disorder. And I DO understand that. After all, hearing my father talk about calories when I was fighting to listen to my own body during my instinctive eating phase used to ruin everything for me, too. I understand. And I’m sorry my behaviour is having this effect on her, and I told her that. I agreed (and am trying hard) not to mention calories or points or nutrients or weight loss or changes in my body or exercise or, well, ANYTHING to do with food or weight loss at all. But that is all I can do. I can’t go back to the way I used to eat just to help my sister. I can’t gain weight back or stop losing for her. I’m doing what I can (of course I’m not perfect, but who is?) and the rest is her problem.

Well, no. It is my problem, too. I work all day and then take class most nights, coming home late. On Saturday, I am away almost all day. This helps, but being home is so stressful now. I can’t be in the same room with Dinah anymore. She either leaves or tells me to leave. I can’t enjoy eating with the family anymore. She doesn’t want to eat with us if I do. She will sit there, not speak, and look miserable. My parents are unhappy about this, obviously. Dinah also closes every door so she won’t see me. She said that even knowing I was home in my own bedroom made her think those thoughts she hates. I don’t know what to do. I feel like an outcast. She mostly doesn’t look at me or speak to me,
except to snap at me. As a consequence, I am hyper-aware of her, too. It’s horribly uncomfortable. I feel like I can’t relax anymore except when she is at the other end of the flat behind closed doors, out of earshot. I can’t enjoy my food anymore because I always think about what she thinks about me. When I weigh something, I worry about her hearing the sound the food makes on the scale. When I walk past her, I worry that she can see I lost weight and what she might think.  I am afraid to eat veggies or salad at the table, and sometimes choose something ‘unhealthy’ just to soothe her. It is a great strain. And as I said, I don’t know what else I could do. I could move out, but I live very close to my workplace, and I can’t afford my own flat, so I’d have to share. I love my family and our dog, and they said I could stay at home. So I stayed. But now… But do I really want to be driven out of the house by my sister? I can’t talk to her about this, it makes everything worse. She has some help, and can sometimes talk to my mother. I’m trying to avoid her and do nothing to make it worse, but hell, it HURTS. It hurts to have doors closed in your face, to see resentment or annoyance in her eyes, to be treated as if I had the plague, to imagine what I am to her: a annoying presence, a disorder, a big fat negative. Sometimes I get very sad or angry. But I can’t hurt her, I can’t get back at her by doing what she doesn’t want me to do, because then she would feel much worse and only hate me more. I don’t know what to do.

Later: I just checked my stats and there are lots of hits from my country, yesterday, on the sister post and others. She must have read my blog again. Dammit, can’t she leave me ALONE? Now I can imagine what it feels like having a stalker.

I want to be able to share some thoughts with others, but NOT with my family. But it seems this is impossible. I feel betrayed and helpless and stifled.

About annalienor

Lover of beauty, adult ballet student, deliberate creator wannabe.
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