Just Weight

There's this conversation that plays in my head, not a perfect loop because it changes slightly with each iteration. The tone varies from mildly disappointed (a sort of "tsk-tsk") to aggressively condemning (this end of the spectrum is rather frightening). The content has been more or less unchanged for the past twenty-odd years. Yes, it occurs to me that that represents just over half of my lifetime.

A sample, at any given moment, might sound a bit like this:

You really shouldn't eat that [ hot dog / Dairy Queen Blizzard / cheese pizza ] because you've already had plenty of food today. There's no real reason why you should be hungry at all. If you have to eat something, it should really be a vegetable, but nothing too heavy. No pasta, no bread, no cookies. Really, you're a size what? And why haven't you been to the gym? If you really wanted to, you'd make time to get to the gym, at least several times a week for at least an hour or so each time. And you should always have all the laundry done so you won't ever need to scrounge for gym clothes. You used to be really fit when you were younger, what happened? The [ shirt / bra / jeans ] you're trying to squeeze into are going to show all of your fat rolls then no one will see anything but that, not listen to anything you have to say because they'll be gawking in horror at the rotund and obese monstrosity that stands before them masquerading as human. Perhaps it'd just be better if you hid somewhere, better than exposing yourself to other people. Why did you let it get this bad? What is wrong with you that you didn't fix this before now? You've been thin before, even if you didn't always know it; surely to goodness you can do it again.

So… I'd better stop there because it's only getting uglier by the second; I've already got a lump the size of a baby whale in my throat and tears threatening to spill. Something to know about me: I would never even entertain harsh thoughts like that about any other person. Sure, there might be a couple folks out there whose actions I find utterly reprehensible and disgusting, whose demise I certainly wouldn't mourn, but I wouldn't layer two decades worth of harsh, judgmental criticism and scathing hatred on them? Just, no.

I wouldn't pile the pyre that high then never set it alight, never set it free.

What is it in my psyche that clings to this? Why can I not seem to bring forgiveness to myself for this one aspect of my self? Why does every single food choice, each morsel that I lift to my mouth, have to come under scrutiny? Why have I equated the number on the scale or the size of my clothing to my value as a human, my worthiness of approval and love? How can I release the guilt, accept myself as I am in this moment, know that I will change when I put the effort into changing, and be okay with life as a process, not an end result?

I use this blog to explore those things which most challenge or inspire me and I understand that sometimes makes for morose reading. Strangely enough, many friends have equated me with sunshine, told me I'm someone who brightens their day, which is my way of sharing with readers that I'm not always a wound-up ball of self-despising panic. Just internally. Hahahahaha.

I am getting help to work on changing these mental patterns but the written word has long been so cathartic for me. It's my best refuge from the storms in my brain, the perfect safe harbor. From here I can explore the things I can't always speak out loud lest the tears fall and lay me bare to endure more hurt.

Oh, the psychology of it all… it's just weight, not who I AM.