First things first, I do have new writing and it will be going up here…just not today. I’m in the midst of editing so once that’s done I’ll have some new stuff up. Lots of new stuff actually, some nonfiction a bit of fiction and of course some more poetry.
In the meantime I’ve got this:
A year ago I weighed 270 pounds, yes I’m really putting that up here. I weighed myself 3 days ago and I weigh 215, that’s 55 pounds of difference. It’s also about 6 inches off my waist and nearly 6 clothing sizes smaller. I should be proud of myself, right? Happy I’ve manged to do what I wanted to do, happy that in April (the deadline I set for myself) I will have (more than likely) reached my goal of losing 70 pounds in a year.
I suppose in some way I am proud of myself, I can look at the numbers and see the difference, however when I look at myself I don’t see the difference. I have a terrible body image and pretty shitty self esteem. I know it’s this way of thinking that causes me to flirt with eating disorders, it’s also a main factor in my problem with cutting, as well as a prominent factor with my depression. I see in myself the same obsessiveness I’ve seen in anorexic women, that same quest for perfection and that same feeling of crushing defeat when I realize I have not and probably will not achieve it.
I look at my body and all I see are flaws, the things I want gone and I assume that these flaws are all anyone else can see. I assume everyone looks at me the same way I look at myself, which is through a lens of hatred. I thought losing the weight I disliked would help me, it hasn’t. I can still pinpoint every tiny, insignificant thing I dislike about myself.
I see myself inching closer and closer to some very dangerous territory, the kind of territory I was in during the summer (collapse at work because I hadn’t eaten in three days). I pulled myself out of it then mostly out of neccesity, I had to work and my job was physical which meant I had to eat. But I see myself heading right back for it. It’s a frightening prospect because I don’t know if I can stop myself again, I don’t have a catalyst like I did over the summer. I’d like to say my own safety would be a catalyst but it isn’t, and that’s part of the problem.
What I want is to be happy with myself and I don’t know how to do that. How do I stop that voice in my head who tells me everything that is wrong with me, how do I see past the flaws and things I don’t like? How do I stop equating my worth as a person with my weight? How do I stop looking at food as the enemy and feeling guilty when I eat?
I know I’ve made progress, I’ve almost reached a goal I deemed impossible. I ought to be proud of myself. Reading over this made me sad for myself, I feel like there is a switch in my brain that is broken or a line that needs to be re-wired. I don’t want to be this way, but I don’t know how to change my thought process.