Sticks and stones may break my bones…

I went home recently.

It was a last-minute decision of packing an overnight back. Driving 6 plus hours one day, just to turn back around the next.

Going home means mixed emotions. Some nostalgia and some anxiety.

I knew my weight would come up in discussion. Whether I'm what my parents consider slim or could shed a few pounds. There's always something to say.

It could be — you look good.

Or side eye with subtle jokes about my weight gain that mean no harm but deep down they do something.

In the past years, I have been struggling with binge eating and gaining back pounds that I lost after my divorce. It's something I've become more open about in my writing lately.

I'm striving to move past this.

I know my mom wants me to get over it too.

She's told me I need to lose weight first before I start dating. She's asked me what I'm eating if she hears me snacking while I'm on the phone.

She even made a comment when I told her I celebrated my ex-husband's birthday with the blended family. His best friend ended up being there as a surprise.

This best friend of his was a guy that showed interest in me first, but I couldn't return the feelings. Not long after, my now ex-husband and I tied the knot.

When I told my mom that I saw his friend, but we didn't say hi or acknowledge each other, she replied — Oh my god, I hope he wasn't wondering ew, what happened to her?

That's when I lost it. I felt every inch of my body tense up and wanted to scream. Sticks and stones may break my bones and what she said definitely hurt me.

My daughter was with me in the car as my mom's words spewed out through the speakers. From anger, tears welled up in my eyes and I told my mom I don't care what he thinks or what anyone has to say for that matter.

He didn't age that well anyway.

She didn't know I was crying. But she could tell by my tone I was not ok with the remark.

I've heard every opinion and comment about my body my whole adult life.

My auntie, when I lost all the weight hugged me and said — oh you're so skinny!

But when the weight started to come back on years later, and I approached her in a restaurant during a visit she joked — is that you?

I'm reminded of my ex-husband and his passive-aggressive comments when I struggled with my weight. Striving for perfection so he'd be proud. But I was never a gym buff like he was.

I'm reminded of the internal struggle with my own self-worth as I've seen the scale go up and back down. Packing away my clothes that became too small, trying them on as I'd lose the weight once again, and feeling victorious.

Holding onto my bigger clothes just in case.

So going home, knowing the subject of my weight would come up, I had to brace myself.

I thought I'd get it over with and play it off as soon as I arrived. To address the elephant in the room.

Yeah, yeah. I know I haven't lost much weight since you saw me at Christmas.

Instead I leave it be. Making my way into the house, my parents' dog was overjoyed and excited. Jumping around me, my mom laughs and says she's so happy to see you.

And then… I knew it was coming…

She says — Bella, take her outside in the yard and you guys can run around. Just one pound, ok… one pound.

She's looking at the dog holding up one finger, smiling because she's joking but deep down I know she's serious. She's suggesting that by running around with the dog I'll at least lose one pound.

I laugh it off and ignore the comment.

Later my daughter expressed how shocked she was to hear Grandma say that.

Eh, I'm used to it.

And I am. But after the words sink in, it stings. Just a little.

My dad, who has also struggled with his weight his whole life, has been diligent to shed some pounds. I complimented him on his success so far. And took his new fancy treadmill for a test run.

While I'm walking he says to my daughter — Look, your mom's exercising!

Damn.

I felt like I was some circus freak on display, I told my brother on the phone during my drive back home.

My brother laughs but then acknowledges my feelings. He shares his own take on mom and dad. We have our closet of secrets about how we really feel about things.

The thing about it is I have learned to tune out my parent's take on life sometimes because it's not helpful. And they have no idea about the internal struggles I face.

While I can share the latest news of my life, when it comes to personal demons, that's a conversation I can't have.

Just talking about depression and seeing a therapist sends my mom into a tizzy.

Regardless, I separate what's theirs from mine. And I know they know what they don't know. And I'm doing my best with what I do.

And anytime I go home I have to prepare myself for the mixed emotions of longing for my childhood and wanting to erase the b.s. in between.

Don't go yet…

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Thank you for being here. I hope you stay for a while.