I have struggled for some time with my weight.
When I say "struggled for some time", I don't mean that I've spent the last couple of years 10 or 20 pounds overweight and constantly staring at myself in the mirror, frowning and poking at a comparatively minimal amount of "extra" while complaining about how unjust the world is. I mean that over the last five years I have successfully (if one can even call it a "success" without smirking) gained some 100 pounds, each of which have lumped another problem onto my body and my scale. Add to that an addictive personality and I'm practically set up for disaster from the get-go: I become too easily attached to people and things, I'm fairly disorganized, and I have a tendency to turn to food for companionship and ... Well, I've been down this road before on here. More than once. Probably more times than I'm honestly comfortable admitting. It's part of who I am, to hate what I am becoming, and it's something that I feel has been pushed into every ounce of my being.
I hate me.
And it's pretty tough, in all honesty, spending nearly three decades - okay, more like two and a half, given that I'm only 28 - in an extreme place of hatred and self-loathing. I doubt me. I dislike me. I seek attention in whatever ways I can find it (usually in the addition of piercings or using hair color) because I need people to notice me for SOMETHING other than the fact that I'm ugly or the fact that I am so ungodly huge. I guess I should have warned you at the get go, this is not a post about self-love and acceptance and positive body image. I don't have any of those things, though I've tried in the past to welcome the concepts into my life. So if you're looking for feel good, if you're looking to have a nice time with someone who is going to casually mention how lovely she feels about herself, you might want to look elsewhere. Unfortunately my page is not the place for that right now.
That being said, the above three word statement is very, very true. It sounds harsh to most - self-hatred is often associated with severe depression, anxiety, and a self-esteem that is so low it might as well be hanging out in the Mariana Trench. But it's the truth. I HAVE been depressed and struggled with severe anxiety and a few other issues most of my life, although I haven't told many people any of that, and I'm positive my weight has affected aforementioned problems. It's so ingrained in me now that I am a fat, unattractive person that even if I did lose the amount I needed to (over 200 lbs), I still wouldn't have any idea what to do with myself and would likely still hate how I look. Mind you, that doesn't mean I don't want to lose the weight. I know that my health and future depend upon my ability to become more healthy. I may not be able to undo the damage that has already been done, but I may well prevent more from happening, and some of my issues may well improve to some degree. Those things alone - never mind the smaller clothing sizes, the sheer decreased size, the ability to fit into spaces I couldn't before, the ability to keep up with my kids - should drive me to want to lose weight and gain the stamina and strength I don't have right now. It's hard, though, when your entire life revolves around the idea of taking comfort from food, to convince yourself that you can make a big enough difference to move forward with your journey.
So if you've learned anything, kids, learn to not eat yourself into feeling better.