Katie, 28, 2007
16 x 20 inch digital pigment print

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Katie, 28

My mother was abused as a child and has always struggled with low self-esteem and image issues. I grew up watching her and learned early on that I should never be proud of myself or my body, that to be a good person I also had to be self-loathing.

I knew on an intellectual level that I should learn to love myself, but a lifetime of self-destructive behavior is difficult to vanquish. After awhile it seems impossible and you stop trying. Whether I was starving, purging, or exercising excessively, I assumed I deserved to be unhappy; if I didn't punish myself, who would?

Last year I was sitting in a bar watching my husband's band. This guy came up and started grabbing my braids, telling me how they turned him on. He just wouldn't leave me alone. I ended up running back to our hotel room, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. My reaction was incredibly intense and I couldn't understand why. After hours of confusing and gut-wrenching sadness I began to recall traumatic events from long ago, little moments of clarity amidst the fogginess of childhood memories. I suddenly realized that I’d been abused as a girl and had blocked it out for years. I grew up painfully aware of my mother's past and was determined that I would not have the same fate; unfortunately I've discovered that was not to be.

I've spent a lot of my life curled up, trying to become invisible, hurting myself before anyone else could, to be in control of my pain. When I make myself sick I feel small and vulnerable, like a child. It brings me back to the origin of the disorder, to the time in my life when I was forever changed by those who violated my innocence. I believe it to be a sub-conscious effort to reclaim the past, to be in control of the source of my pain rather than allowing that power to be wielded by my abusers.