Weight

Good morning reader.

I hate that word. Weight. Such a simple word. Too much importance in our society is put behind this word. Weight.

Weight.

I obsess about my weight. It’s one of the serious problems I have and it’s exhausting. Honestly sometimes I tell myself I should just eat what I want, get fat, and give up. Yet I know my eating disorder would never let me do something like that. It would destroy me. If eating something small like an orange that isn’t on my daily tracker sends me into a hysterical meltdown I highly doubt I will be changing lifestyles that drastically anytime soon.

I used to weigh myself on a daily basis. It was all consuming. If my weight fluctuated even just a little bit I would cry and scream and call myself a fat cow. That’s one of the more common names I have given myself.

For the past few months I haven’t been weighing myself. It’s a sickening feeling when I think about not knowing what I weigh. But i know myself. If I were to weigh myself and have gained a decimal of weight since the last time – I would lose it. It would set me back months on the progress I have made toward not caring about the number. Because I do. It’s sickening.

Weight. When I see or think of that word I think of a scale. Another simple word.

I bought a scale while still living with my parents. I weighed more then. I think. I don’t know – remember I haven’t weighed myself in months. Anyway, I obsessed about the number. My fiance got sick of my behavior. Started hiding the scale where even if I found it, I wouldn’t be able to reach. I’m only 5 ft tall so it’s not hard. Eventually he got rid of it as I would find ways to get the scale. Weigh in. And cry until I made myself sick.

I’m glad that hasn’t happened for awhile. It was exhausting.

I don’t think I would be able to weight myself today even if I wanted to. The nerves alone just thinking about it makes me sick. What if I’ve gained a lot of weight? How do I know if that’s muscle or fat?

I realize that someone could tell me I look great. I have definitely lost weight. Beautiful even. And if the scale has gone up those comments don’t matter. I don’t know how many times I have told Sam that nothing he could say will matter. Because he will love me no matter what. What happens now?

As I am sitting here I am feeling ill and am thinking about all the things I did today that have probably set back my weightloss goal. Sometimes I feel crazy. Like there is another person inside me that comes out when I go to this dark place. Like I am being smothered by another me. Weird. Scary. Makes me think that that other person will never go away. Not unless I lose the weight. Not unless I SEE the me I want to be staring back at me in the mirror. I have a feeling though that I will never get there. Not that I won’t get to the weight or physical ideal I have set for myself. But that my brain will always want to do better. That I will always have that sense of failure. No matter what.

Wow that was heavy. And yet I don’t feel better. I feel worse. Maybe I should try and write about the topics that are my achilles heal when I am in an upswing. Just a thought.

Keeping this short as my mood has shifted drastically. Hearing those cruel phrases in my mind as I type this. I will leave you with this: It’s ok to be sad but something I have actively been working on is not taking out all the scary, angry emotions about myself on my best friend/my partner in life. I know that every day is hard and I struggle even on a small level every day with those thoughts running through my head. But I can see the toll it is taking on Sam. He can only take so much on top of his own day to day issues and feelings. It’s an uphill battle that I am working on every day. Some days are better than others. But that’s what healing is all about. Making mistakes and learning. And I plan on making many mistakes if that means I get closer to my goal.

Not my weight goal.

The happiness goal.

Until tomorrow.

Obsessed

Featured Stephanie2 Comments

Good morning readers. Or reader. Or just myself. I wanted to talk about obsession. It’s a word I use a lot when describing myself. “I’m obsessed with counting calories. I’m obsessed with what my body looks like.” My mother and boyfriend use it sometimes but more when they’re at the end of their patience and I won’t shut up about food or dieting or exercise.

I haven’t always been like this. It sort of crept up on me til one day I realized I couldn’t eat anything out of the “safe zone” without feeling immense guilt which on occasion lead to intense breakdowns with full blown crying at screaming. Not a good look. And not a healthy regular occurance for my now fiance to deal with. I feel very lucky to call him that considering all the rollercoaster of emotions he has had to deal with over the past 5 years.

Looking back I can’t actually pinpoint the moment when my hobby turned into an obsession. I went to college as such a happy young woman who was nervous about going away to school without any of my friends. Didn’t take long for me to make a few and I can only think of a handful of memories that weren’t full of laughter and poor (stupidly fun) decisions. Which I am sure will come up later in this blog if I manage to remember through all the other things on my mind I want to write down.

Like I said I can’t remember what happened to me. In this moment I think it might have been when I came back from school for some break and was told I looked amazing. Like I had lost some weight. That compliment alone is such an amazing thing to hear but life altering in the worst way at the same time. I started craving that recognition of my family and friends. I liked being known as the girl in my friend group who was athletic and fit. I had always been on the muscular size and decent at sports without trying, I just had quite a bit of fat covering it all up. Once I started to shed some weight and get noticed, without me knowing it things started to take a really dark turn. It was a subtle shift and wouldn’t make itself known until my last quarter in my senior year of college. Until then I would happily play the role of “curvy” athletic girl who went to the gym daily but still knew how to eat carbs, alcohol and every once in awhile order pizza late at night with her roommate without worrying about how many calories I was eating and not burning.

I wish I could go back to my freshman year self and tell her you are beautiful just the way you are. You are going to meet someone in 2 years who is going to love you for you. Your friends could care less if you weighed 90 pounds or 160 pounds. But 20/20 hindsight right? I can’t go back and the damage has already been done. The hope I have is that this thing, this obsession with my body image is going to get better. This blog is the last attempt I have at trying to help myself. I want to be able to look back on these last few years in my life knowing that I was the one who fixed it. That sounds pretty unlikely and I will probably eventually get outside help. But for now, this is what i’ve got.

I will leave you (whomever might be reading this) with this: You aren’t alone in obsessing about your body or what you look like. It may feel that way because people are afraid to tell their stories. To share what they’re going through. If one person can relate to this then that’s better than what I was expecting.

Until tomorrow.

Ugly Words

Featured StephanieLeave a comment

I wanted to start writing a blog to see if this would help me. I have been struggling with something for a long time but I don’t I haven’t aknowledged what it was until just a few weeks ago. I still feel so weird just typing the words. Eating Disorder.

Wow. Feels like such ugly words. Eating Disorder. When I see those words I see failure. But probably not in the way that you might think. I have failed because I need help, because I have let myself get to such a scary place, and I feel like the biggest failure because I’m not even skinny.

There is one of the biggest misconceptions I will be dealing with over the course of my life. Why do I feel like I try so hard, workout, eat right, and yet still be big. Yes I have an eating disorder. But I am not what someone automatically thinks when they image those words in their mind. I am not this stick thin, ill looking woman who you think needs to eat more. People tell me I am fine, beautiful even just the way I am. Yet all I see is the failure to be that skinny girl that everyone envys.

I am sure this blogging will get easier with time but for the most part it feels like a whining, rambling mess. Maybe the next one will be better.

I will leave you (if “you” is actually anyone but me) with this. I have reached the end of my rope and am desperate for anything to help me feel better. I am hoping that by writing every day about my goals, struggles, aspirations and life events it will help me achieve my goal, obviously related to weight, in a healthy way. But let’s take things one baby step at a time shall we?

To everyone who has been told their ideas about how they think or feel about themselves that it is all in your head, you are not alone.

Until tomorrow.