I’ve been sitting on this talking point for quite a while and since I have a small victory under my belt, I’m going to for once divulge what’s rattling around in my Carb-addled brain. I’m staring at my white computer screen finding some difficulty stuck under my keys trying to put to words what has been plaguing me most of my life.
I’m going to share a few facts about myself that my reader doesn’t know about me.
– I sometimes have suicidal thoughts about once a month.
– I can’t stand to look at myself.
– I think everyone talks about me behind my back.
– I never thought I’d end up being 382 lbs… which by the way was my weight when I started all this mess.
– I have nightmares about taking my diabetic medication – bydurion (sp?)
– I get irrationally angry when I’m not allowed more carbs.
– I, despite what friends and family think, believe I am a disgusting, hideous creature that should just give up because it’s never going to work.
– I hate shopping, windowed or not. Nothing ever looks good on me and I can’t afford it anyways…
I hate these facts about myself. They are self-loathing and it undermines my progress to getting healthy. Here’s more secrets I bet you don’t know about me…:
1. I was able to exercise for a full 30 minutes without giving up.
2. I went shopping for the first time for myself and spent money on things I needed. I enjoyed it. really really enjoyed it. Almost better than sex enjoyed it.
3. I bought a bunch of somethings I wouldn’t have dared to… they were more form fitting. I tend to hide myself under layers of clothes. I look damn nice in leggings, a red sweater dress and heeled calve high boots. Down right sexy even.
4. So far, I’ve lost 16 lbs… it’s not a lot and to be honest, I’ve been too afraid to push myself harder. Yesterday’s 30 min workout proved to me I CAN do this.
5. My husband, the most brilliant, loving, patient and bravest man in my world adores me and isn’t going to give up on me… even when I do. Everyday, he reminds me of how lucky I am when he smiles at me because everything gets easier.
Life is a hard, complex struggle that we all have to get through. My struggles can’t be compared to your struggles just as yours can’t be compared to your neighbor’s. Life is hard from the teenage girl who has to wear boys clothes everyday, use the boy’s bathroom because she can’t go to the one she feels safe in, the gay college student who’s afraid to come out of the closet because they see hate messages everywhere they go, to the African American communities who get targeted unfairly merely because of a skin pigmentation to the elderly man or woman who can’t afford their heating and cooling bills so they can pay for their medicine.
Its hard for that little boy or girl who was called fat from the word go… not initially for their eating habits but because of their medical conditions. They fight the genetic bad luck as they continue to gain, they starve themselves and hate themselves until they get tired of fighting anymore. We get suicidal and it’s insidious. The method we chose to take us out of this world ends up the very thing that set us up to fail. We just stop caring for us like so many humans stop caring for each other’s hard. This became a rant because yesterday a dear friend of mine and I shared a conversation that opened my eyes.
She blames that person that’s gained the 200 lbs for their weight solely. Now, I agree, being lazy has a hand in it but it saddens me to think that she believes I’m still this way because she thinks I don’t want it hard enough. I want it so bad I’m in tears thinking about being slender. I’m still this way because somewhere down the road, I stopped caring about ME. I’m still this way because it seems so impossible to achieve most days. Losing mom is what got me out of the swirling whirlpool that was dooming me to a hospital bed. When I saw her in that bed, it was looking at me 20 years from now. I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE! I have to fight. I have to survive. If I had done this sooner, drug her with me kicking and screaming, my mother would likely still be alive today!! THAT is my fuel. THAT is my WHY. It wasn’t laziness that kept me from going walking. It was fear that it wouldn’t do any good to fight.
Mom, this is me fighting for you. This is me living for you. I’m going to live a long, healthy life….and we’re going to give you lots of sweet, rosy cheeked grand babies for you. These moments when I feel so strong, I miss you the most because I want to show you how far I’ve come. But I’m going to keep going because if I stop fighting I lose everything.