My obesity is a mental disease. (MINE..I am owning this not casting dispersions to yours or some random person you know)
Shocking? Not to me. Everything I have ever done to get to my original 308lbs was done out of hurt, fear, and rebellion. Every last pound was owned by some "thing" that happened in my life. Some experience that forever changed my personality make-up, and damaged me psychologically and emotionally. Some way that I was deficient. I may not have ever been deficient. It was/has been just my perception of my deficiency. Like...why can't I do what they can do? Why can't I have what they have? Why can't people love and honor me the way other people love and honor Joe Schmo? I have never hidden that I am broken. I got too tired of trying to paint the picture and convince people that I was just fine not being able to do the things they were doing. I wasn't interested in your hiking, boating, camping excursion. Yes....I wanted to go. I always wanted to go, but I didn't want to hold anyone back because I would be the dead weight. Then everyone would talk about me (in my mind) or make exceptions/exemptions for me and I would feel inadequate.
Always with the inadequate.
I turned to food. Because potato chips and cottage cheese made me feel secure like it did when I sat and ate it with my grandma at her kitchen table. Because I just wanted someone to stand up for me at some point and not let random people treat me like shit. No one ever made me feel like I was worth fighting for, but when I would have a down moment in my life...I could sit down and put something in my mouth. Have you ever tried to cry while eating? Doesn't last. You will choke. It's comforting. It's calming. My life has NEVER been calm, so go figure that I would attach myself to something that is calming.
I have sooooo been trying to course correct. I have been working very hard. Even when I fail, falter, or cheat...I just haven't gotten strong enough to win in those moments, but I am getting there.
Why am I having my pity party on a day that I can report a loss? (Especially when I just recently told a friend that "pity parties suck because there are no guests and the hostess is a drag") Because my entire journey is a balancing act. I get a good couple of steps in and I am rockin' and rollin'. The Greatest American Hero theme song is blasting in my ears. (Dating myself again) "Believe it or not, I'm walkin on air, I never thought I could feel so free-e-eeee, flying away on a wing and a prayer. Who could it be? Believe it or not, it's just me"
It's just me? Me? Alone? Well, crap. When am I gonna fall? If it's just me...how am I gonna do it? (SOOO STUPID)
Today, it hit me in a string of conversation that was not intended as a jab at me, but because of another unfortunate outside and completely RANDOM comment, I felt like the butt of a private joke and that was not okay with me. But what's a girl to do? Lay down and die. Wait for someone to stand up for me. No. I addressed it, then felt stupid, because I was being overly sensitive.
I then turned to my "old faithful"....well...my NEW "old faithful", my recumbent bike. 30 minutes. Then the tears fell. Not because of the comments. I had worked through all of that already. They fell at the overwhelming thought of how fragile I really am.
People always say..."you are so strong" "Look at all that's happened and you made it through" "I am amazed at how much you can handle", but deep inside I am still that little girl who needs to know that she is loved and that no matter what happens...everything is going to be ok. Sometimes...I just need for someone to step in and say..."you know what? All that stuff you are carrying...seems a little heavy for you right now, let me help you." Sometimes...I just need to break down and that's what I did right after 30 minutes on the recumbent bike.
Sorry for the downer post...it's just on my heart right now.