Alone, Scared and Hungry

As a young child, I was very protected by my parents.  I was sheltered. I was happy in that shelter, oblivious to the cruel world happening around me. 

I was a Brownie and my mom was an assistant troop leader.  I had friends with me and the comfort of my mom always close by.  It was perfect.  I loved that part of my life. But as I aged out of the Brownies, I was forced into Girl Scouts.  

For me, this was a lonely time.  I had no friends there and many of the other girls were much older.  To make matters worse those weekly meetings which I hated took a turn for the even worse when I was forced to attend a camping weekend. 

Camping was way out of my wheelhouse.  It was the most uncomfortable experience I could imagine.  I remember arriving and realizing we were sleeping on wood planks raised up over the forest floor in a giant pavilion-type setting.  Snakes. Spiders. Dirt. Outhouses. I was not a fan.  But that trip was about to take a turn even I didn’t imagine in my worst nightmares. 

My mother in her haste to pack my things for the trip missed a few items on their list.  I arrived with no bowl, spoon or fork. Only a small collapsible cup for water.  I realized this as we were all making our way to the tent for dinner that first night.  I immediately told my troop leader, half in tears, that I had no bowl or utensils. She promptly and harshly told me that I would be given no food as a result and as an additional punishment for coming unprepared I would be made to stand in the food line with the rest of the girls but would need to tell everyone I was not allowed to have any food.  In addition, it was ice cream night which was literally the only selling point for this entire awful experience.  I would be forced to sit and watch the other girls eat and enjoy their ice cream while I would be allowed none.

This humiliation coupled with the fact that I was going to starve out there in the wilderness as some sort of messed up punishment created a panic inside of me.  I still recall standing in that line and as we inched closer to the front, I became more and more panicked.  I could see an entire table full of food that I was not allowed to indulge in. After not eating and then being subjected to the absolute mockery of the other girls I eventually broke down crying.  I asked for my mom but was denied access to her.  (She was with her Brownie troop in another part of the camp). 

At one point I was inconsolable, and I remember someone took pity on me and offered me a sip of melted ice cream that was leftover from the bottom of their metal bowl.  Nothing more than a spoonful, I drank it from the side of the bowl lapping it up like a dog in front of all the girls using their proper spoons. That small sip was the only thing I “ate” that entire night.

I was also denied breakfast in the morning but by then I was so weak and exhausted from crying all night and laying awake fearing snakes getting into my sleeping bag, that I simply got into my parent’s car and told them I would never again return to the Girl Scouts. 

Despite quitting the troop, I was irreparably damaged from that weekend.  I think I decided 2 things on that night crying myself to sleep in a cold sleeping bag. Well, maybe 3.  One - I would never involve myself in anything remotely called “camping” ever again.  2 – that I would never be unprepared for anything or trust others to prepare for me. And 3 – that I would never be denied food again, especially dessert.

After that, I became the person who was always prepared for everything.  My high school locker, my car, my college dorm room, even my desk at work.  I was prepared for everything and anything always.  Bowls and utensils included.  I made lists, accommodations, reviewed all possible needs constantly and made sure they were met by me.  It was actually always kind of the joke too.  If anyone needed anything for any reason the reply would be, “Ask Holly.  She’s got everything.” Damn right I did. 

I guess I was supposed to learn basic survival from the Girl Scouts and I sure as hell did that.  But not really in the way they intended.  I learned to survive out of absolute brokenness.

After that, I started to eat.  A lot.  I made sure that I always had food in my stomach “just in case” something happened and I was unable to get food.  When I started doing live TV it enhanced that irrational fear I had since I knew if I was in a show, I would be unable to eat.  So I would over eat as if to store up food for later.  Obviously, at 300 pounds I could have gone days without food and been better off but mentally I was panicked at the thought of not eating.  I still am. 

Even when I was losing the 100 pounds, I would pack my desk drawers full of snacks.  They were so full I added a refrigerator and an entire box with soup cans etc. (and lots of extra bowls and utensils!) in the work storage closet just in case the apocalypse happened while I was at work, I guess.  Who knows what I was thinking.  I wouldn’t eat the food.  It just had to be there “just in case”.  I am still to this day obsessed with preparation and overstocking. 

We are all broken.  Some of us by one big thing.  Some of us by many smaller things over many years breaking us again and again.  This incident was by far not the only contributor to my weight, but it was a major catalyst occurring in the years when I was forming very crucial coping mechanisms.  It affected me so deeply that 40 years later I will sob uncontrollably just to remember it.  I remember being alone and scared and hungry.  And despite all of my advanced adult attempts at never being so again, I fear that I could be.  And that is keeping me in a cycle where somewhere in my mixed-up brain, I am always alone and scared and hungry.