I’m on vacation. The rest of this blog post is a rant of epic proportions. Best skip it.
“I’m on vacation” is the kind of thing that normally warrants an exclamation point. But seeing as how I’ve been starving myself for three days and then weighed in today 1.6 pounds heavier than last time I did, it kind of fucked up my day and I’m not so excited. It doesn’t help that I started watching the TV show Arrow, which btw is as good as everyone told me it was. But Arrow, like Supernatural, is made up of a cast of supernaturally hot people that seem to exist to make me feel bad about myself.
In fact when I started watching the show yesterday I was feeling bad, but then felt better when I remembered that I hadn’t ordered that pizza I wanted and I only had one potato skin for dinner. It was a very bad feeling this morning when I stepped on the scale.
I’m going to have a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza for lunch. Maybe I’ll go find a green bracelet so I can wear it and remind myself of my shame every time I look at my arm. It’ll go great next to the pile of clothes on my dresser that i no longer fit into and placed in a prime location so I can see them everyday when I wake up in the morning.
So at what point do I have a problem? I posted a few weeks ago concerns over my daughter’s mental health in the future. And I’ve gotten better at not crying in the morning when I try to get dressed and nothing fits right, but sometimes the sight is too sad to bear and she ends up having to leave the room because I can’t control myself enough to not break down in front of her.
I don’t want her to grow up with the same body issues I have, but I also know I’ve totally failed on that point. She’s been lucky enough so far to be naturally slim, and I try to be body positive about everyone and not refer to women as fat or say it’s bad. But I can’t apply the same lax standards to myself. That can’t be healthy for to be watching. Sure, I can just give up and go to the store and buy the next size up. I have, otherwise I’d have no clothes to wear, and that’s a pretty shitty feeling in itself.
The other day my mother was praising a friend for seeking help with a therapist. In fact, my mother recommended her friend see a therapist. I didn’t want to start a fight so I stayed quiet. She’ll admit she herself never went to a therapist, but was that because she has the same issues with the idea that I do? Is it okay for everyone to seek help if they need it except us. Because we have to be strong, a rock with a heavy foundation that must weather every storm. Hard and strong to its very core.
Am I wrong to think I’m skirting that edge of needing help and may have past it? Is this how everyone feels? Because I’ve always just sucked up every hurt and kept going. No one wants to hear your shitty problems, probably not even the therapist you are paying to hear your problems. They have their own shitty lives to get through. What could they possibly say except that I have to suck it up. What other choice is there? What makes my problems so special?
Nothing. Nothing at all.