Monthly Archives: February 2013

Subtle words

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In November I was at my mother’s for Thanksgiving. Someone commented on my weight loss and I replied, “Thanks! I’m almost down the the size I was in high school.” I was so proud of myself.

Then my mother did a double take and said, “You didn’t seem that big in high school.”

Subtle words, but they packed a punch. See, I was this same size freshman year of high school. I was the same weight. I wore the same exact size jeans. I wore the same shirts. I was this exact size. My mother and other family members made comments about my weight back then. Not positive comments, like I’m getting these days. No, these were always about how I could stand to lose a few pounds, how I was going to eat them out of house and home, how I love food… so much teasing and bullying over my size.

I do love food. But I also love myself now, and back then I didn’t. Back then I hated that girl in the mirror. I hated her pudgy belly, her large thighs, her chubby cheeks. I hated the way she had to buy plus clothes, how she’d never be as small as her sister or mother. I thought I was much larger than I was. Much larger. I thought I was uglier. I thought that I needed fixed, as if I were somehow broken.

My mental state lead me to do myself harm as I started eating less and less food. And then all I heard was praise. I was beautiful. I was gorgeous. I was pretty. I was sexy. I looked awesome. I would look perfect if I lost 10 more pounds (well I guess it couldn’t all be praise, now could it?)

So, no, my mother doesn’t remember me being “this big” in high school. Probably because she chose to forget the first 3 years and focus solely on my last year- when I was mildly anorexic. The year when I was the thinnest.

This big. This big. I’ve lost 75lbs, but I’m still “this big” to her. Some things never change. It’s a good thing that my weight loss is for me and my health this time, that I’m in a good place, that I recognize her words for what they are: projections of her own body image issues onto me.

I only paused a moment before I repeated that I was this same size, and switched the conversation. They were such subtle words, but what a weight to them.

Slacking off

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I haven’t posted in awhile because, well, I haven’t had much to post. I haven’t been sleeping very well, my migraines have returned, my back issues are ongoing, my hormones are all over the place, I’ve been stressed out, and my depression is kicking my ass.

I’ve regained 3-5lbs.

I’m trying really hard to stay on top of my exercise, and I’ve been successful for the most part. I’m going to postpone my jog tonight until tomorrow and walk instead though, because this migraine is killing me. I need to stop “allowing” myself soda and other caffeinated beverages as a “treat”- I am almost certain they are the root cause of all these migraines. I’ve been struggling to remain on my diet, and the biggest issue for me is running errands and going to appointments, and lack of preparation. When I plan out all for meals/snacks for the day, I do alright. I know what I can have, and I can budget it accordingly. There’s no guesswork when I go to the fridge, no mindless eating, no unaccountable calories. I really need to get back on that.

I’ve been stressed out with my insurance changes, with going off birth control and jumping back into the infertility game of risk, with finances, with my son, with being a stay at home mother with limited adult company (We seriously need to start going to the library, something, ANYTHING- maybe I should get a YMCA membership again. I’m dying here.)

My depression came back with a vengeance. I’ve dealt with it since I was a child, it hit hard as a teenager, and then again in college. It comes and goes, some days it’s alright, then some days (or months) I’m just down- I don’t want to do anything. I try to make myself get into the groove of things, to stay active, to be positive, to be proactive in my life, find new things to do, get out of the house, but most of the time I don’t even want to get off the couch. When I say that I don’t want to do anything, I mean I don’t want to play games, I don’t want to read, I don’t want to watch anything, I don’t want to get online, I don’t want to clean, I don’t want to deal with life in general.

But I do it anyway.

Because I have to. Because that’s what you do. Because there’s no pause button for life. Because my husband and son need me. I would do anything for my son, and I totally do– I push myself and push myself, even if my body is so lethargic that I can’t find the energy to do diddly squat. It’s hard some days. And then, when all is said and done, I don’t feel like bothering with myself. But I need to. I need to remind myself of that sometimes.

I don’t want anyone to worry about me, I’m doing alright. I’ve dealt with this all my life so I know what works for me, and I know it’s not going anywhere. It comes in waves and goes as quickly, sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I’m low, and I always recognize the signs when it’s time to get help. Me being online and posting means I’m doing alright, for the most part. It’s when I withdraw from others completely, online and in real life, that I know it’s time to get help. We’re okay, it’s just… I could be better, you know?

I’m in a funk. I ache all over, I’m exhausted because we have some major toddler sleep regression going on here, my self esteem has plummeted… and I’m making excuses.

I’ve created a repetitive cycle of negativity in my own life- I don’t feel good, so I don’t treat myself well, which in turns makes me feel worse, so I’ve been treating myself worse (like this is what I deserve) and then I feel even worse.

I recognize the pattern and I KNOW what I need to do in order to stop it- I just need to find the energy to break the cycle.

I need a fresh start. I need to be kinder to myself. I need to stop saying that I can do this and actually believe it again.