Geri Karlstrom Eating Disorder Recovery Story

Eating disorders have devastated my life since I went on my first diet at age nine. I believe that child abuse and trauma were partly the cause of my compulsive overeating, bulimia & anorexia and binge eating disorders. I hope by sharing my recovery story and music you will find a friend who understands and the courage to reach out for help. Hugs, Geri
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MY NAME'S GERI and I'm recovering from an eating disorder. I've been in recovery for over the past fifteen years and would like to share the story of my journey with you.

I'm the eldest of four children and was born on August 19, 1952 in BC, Canada. My father, a retired Baptist minister, is American and my mother, a homemaker, is Canadian. From the day I arrived into this world Mom dressed me up and showed me off with pride. The love of music was an important part of our family and at the age of four I was coaxed into singing in front of the congregation at dad's church. I was a little shy at first but enjoyed the attention. My parents were pleased to have their children perform. In retrospect I think they wished for perfect children and I was only too willing to do everything I could to attain their approval.

When I was five our family moved to Seattle, where my father completed his education. My parents were strict, old-fashioned disciplinarians and truly did their best to protect their children. Unfortunately, no parent can safeguard a child from all the traumatic things that children are exposed to. At eight years of age I believe I suffered a life-altering experience that scarred me emotionally and put me on the path toward my eating disorders.


ONE DAY AFTER SCHOOL my girlfriend Denise didn't meet me for our daily walk home. With good reason. She had been lured into a vacant garage by the local paperboy who attempted to rape her. He was armed with a knife and when she tried to stop him he retaliated by stabbing her over forty times. He then wrapped her lifeless body in old newspapers and set the garage ablaze. Overcome by guilt, he confessed the crime to his father that evening, a chaplain at the college where my Dad attended. The story of Denise's murder made headlines the next day in Seattle. But instead of discussing this incredibly disturbing event with me, my Mom simply handed me a clipping from the front page of the paper. Numb from the shock, I didn't know that it'd be okay for me to ask questions about something that distressed my parents so much. So I was left to myself to cope and comprehend the brutal horror of Denise's death and heal from the loss of a close friend. Needless to say, I didn't cope well and I certainly didn't comprehend. Sometimes the "no talk" rule translates to neglect and subtle child abuse.


MY PARENTS HAD ALWAYS made a big deal about appearances, applauding the thin and attractive, and shunning those with less than appealing features. In addition, the early messages I received concerning anything sexual being a dirty and disgraceful thing only added to my bewilderment. Had Denise been attacked because she was desirable? In my juvenile mind I reasoned that if I became unattractive by putting on weight I'd be able to protect myself from men and older boys, of whom I was now terrified. But the push-pull world of trying to look perfect to please my Mom and the fear of being noticed by men put me in a terrible state of confusion. At nine years of age I went on my first diet.

My family loved to celebrate with relatives and church friends. The major focal point of these social gatherings was based on food, as alcohol, drugs and gambling were unthinkable in our religious family. Playing cards weren't even allowed in our house. So food became my escape and sugar became my drug of choice to soothe the stress and pain I felt in childhood. I believe this is one of the many factors that contributed to my eating disorder. But all the calories began taking their toll. My folks sent me to various church summer camps over the years and I found it quite difficult to make new friends. After all, I was now the "pudgy kid" and somewhat of an outcast. The extra weight didn't enhance my natural clumsiness either and one summer I nearly fell into a snake pit in the woods at Black Lake Bible Camp. It wasn't long before I spent most of activity time hanging out at the snack shack. Then one year a wonderful thing happened. I was asked to sing with some other children at camp at Lake Sammamish, Washington. After we finished, kids came up and congratulated me on my performance. What a relief! Now I had a way to help me make friends and be liked.

Throughout my troubled childhood the one sustaining force in life had become my love of art and music. It was my dream to be a painter and I also studied piano, but all that changed when I saw The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I just had to have a guitar, even though "evil" rock 'n' roll music wasn't allowed in my parent's home. So I secretly hid one in the basement and began playing and writing songs. I soon realized that I was able to cathartically express my feelings and experiences in this way, and it became a wonderful time in my life. But I had no idea that my eating disorders would all but rob me of this gift in later years,

EIGHTEEN AND ILLEQUIPPED to make good decisions, I eloped with the first boy that I seriously liked. It was my way of escaping the dominance of my parents and their constant fear that I'd become a pregnant teen, which would've resulted in my father's dismissal from whatever church he was stationed at. But without knowing it I'd simply traded one controlling atmosphere for another. I had married an angry, violent man who ruled with various forms of abuse. When we had children I'd hoped that he would mellow but this was only a fantasy. In reality things only got much worse. Our two sons, the delights of my life, became his punching bags as well. After twelve years of suffering his words and bruises I finally mustered the courage to escape the hellish storm we called home. That day he had been in another rage and kicked our youngest (who was only five) across the living room floor.

So now I had no partner, no job or training, and two kids to provide for. But even though we were so poor I still found ways to medicate myself with inappropriate amounts of food. I was in need of comfort and I destructively found it there.

I HAD MADE an independent record album in 1980, Geri Baird - "Coolage"- three years prior to the breakup of my marriage. It wasn't very successful but it gave me the opportunity to work with a number of local musicians and be a part of various bands that were spawned from the project. So when I needed to supplement my "single Mom" income I decided to form a rock band, with the objective of playing downtown Vancouver night clubs. As much fun as it was being a singer/musician for a living, it was hardly lucrative. And the seamy world of early '80s lower class clubs and bars was anything but glamorous. I'd never seen things like illicit drugs and underage prostitutes before. But now I was drinking and experimenting with drugs and chatting between music sets with illegally hired 14 year-old strippers, who worked in another area of the club. Memories of singing in Daddy's church faded into a smoke-filled sunset.

I met my future husband, Ben Karlstrom at a rock concert in 1983. Our paths had crossed a few times before in musically related situations but we'd never really spoken to each other much before that night. He asked me out and on our first date we talked at great length about common experiences like our love of music and misadventures with drugs. He was younger than me, but our similarly abusive pasts and desire to make a better life for ourselves seemed to cement the relationship. I guess that's called, "I'm attracted to your dysfunction. I can relate. You're as screwed up as I am". But I was in love with him and still am. (We're coming up on our 22nd wedding anniversary!) He was there for me as I began rebuilding my life after I quit abusing drugs and alcohol. It's interesting to note that my physical sobriety concerning those substances slowly led me back onto the path of overeating. I had modified a few behaviors but the toxic emotional turmoil was still in my system. I simply hadn't addressed any of the issues that fed my destructive eating disorder.



WE BEGAN WRITING songs together and making demo recordings, but it took several more years before we got a distribution deal and released our CD "Karlstrom". Throughout that time I binged and purged, eating inappropriately to swallow my feelings of shame and using laxatives and diuretics in an attempt to get thin, especially for promotional photo shoots and concerts we played. I had no idea that I'd developed bulimia nervosa. The desired results didn't arrive though and I was overweight, dehydrated and severely depressed. My new husband was obviously aware that something was very wrong but the more involved he got with my eating disorder the worse my bulimia and binge eating disorder became. I stopped song writing, socializing and gave up hope.

THEN ONE DAY an interesting thing happened. My husband and I saw a rerun of John Bradshaw's "Bradshaw: On The Family" series on PBS. We were stunned to learn about family systems and how we were set up for certain destructive behaviors. It wasn't long before we began seeing therapists and started the painful process of inspecting our damaged psyches. It marked a new beginning, but things got worse before they got better. On July 4, 1995 I bottomed out. I simply could not stop or control my eating disorder. I felt like I was lost at sea emotionally, physically and spiritually. In the middle of the desperation and blackness of that day I somehow recalled John Bradshaw's story of how he had faced his alcoholism with the support of his friends at Alcoholics Anonymous. At that moment I knew that if I didn't go to a 12-step group for my eating disorders I'd lose everything I loved in life or maybe even take my own life. I chose to go to a 12-step group.

The first meeting I attended was terrifying but I sensed right away that I could get help there. All the methods that I'd tried to heal myself and keep myself safe hadn't worked. It was time to try something new. Amazingly, I felt like I had arrived home. A new place where I was loved and accepted unconditionally. I began to study, work and live the 12-step program and lost 35 pounds in two months. Sugar abstinence was of key importance in this progress. I knew I had a sensitivity to everything with sugar in it so I needed to take it out of my diet completely. I could never have been able to do this without my 12-step program.

I started to feel healthier. Every area of my life seemed to blossom. I began writing songs again and for the first time I was really expressing my deepest feelings in my music. Pain, depression, shame, isolation and despair were changing to happiness, hope, optimism (even during suffering) and a connectedness with others.

AND EVEN THOUGH I take an occasional step backward there have been so many forward steps that I'm feeling quite secure in this better quality of life. And I'm experiencing greatly improved relationships with my husband, sons and now my parents. The past few years have been an incredible time of healing between my folks and me. The obsession around food issues that has tortured my soul is subsiding and from this newfound peace I'm discovering a place where I'm getting a refreshing new view of the God of my understanding.

I've recorded a number of songs that I wrote over the past four years and compiled them on a CD called Soulful Journey. I feel compelled to give back to the program and people that have helped me so much, so I sing and share my recovery with others in this way. It also helps me in my continuing recovery from my eating disorder. Abstinence has become the most important thing in my life. It gives me back everything I almost lost plus allows me to live a far better quality of life. A world where I can take what I've learned so far and help others by sharing my experience, strength and hope. And that's music to the ears of this recovering food addict.


Love & Hugs,
Geri


As author of this article I give permission to copy and distribute this article. Please contact Geri here -- email Geri Karlstrom