Let’s start out with a picture of myself immediately following an inexplicable weighing of myself at the END of the day. My daily weigh in is usually as soon as I get up and only then.
I’m uncomfortable showing this side of me because I see emotion as weakness. For me, to be perceived as having weakness is more embarrassing than being seen naked. I don’t want people to think they can hurt me and that’s how I prevent it. Something really upsetting must have happened. Someone must have said something really cruel that hit a nerve. It was me. My reaction upon seeing my weight on the scale, and I said it to myself quietly without thinking, was “You should just die.” Instantly, the tears flowed. I was unable to leave the room. I stepped into my closet and collapsed next to my clothes and just cried. Then, I decided I needed to capture that reaction; To pause that moment in time to analyze it later. I needed to pick it apart so I wouldn’t get emotional again.
I briefly spoke to my husband about why I was upset before laying down for the night. I asked him not to give me the usual “I think you’re great,” argument because this wasn’t about how I’m seen by anyone other than me and that I hated my body. I explained to him that this is the only thing I have control over in my life and I’m failing miserably. I woke up this morning, weighed again, cried again, and forced myself to go to the gym to work out. I was able to hold my composure for the workout and socialize a bit after. I searched around for someone I could talk to about feeling down, but I couldn’t even think about it without tears coming into my eyes. I started to feel like falling apart again, went out to break down in my car, and left. I got home and started to clean up and stepped on the scale again. I tried to reason with myself that it’s impossible to gain 6 lbs in a week, but the damage was done. My husband demanded I stop stepping on the scale to which I responded, “What if one time it isn’t bad?” I’ve mostly been okay since then, but I can’t stop thinking about it and I feel like I’m holding back a river of tears.
If I were really trying as hard as I thought, I’d have less fat and I’d have more muscle. I saw my body composition from last weekend and I’d gained fat and lost muscle. My bathroom scale says I weigh five more pounds than I did when I had that weight/composition. I weigh 10 pounds more than I did 3 weeks ago and I gained an inch each on my waist and hip measurements. It’s pretty obvious that even though I’m counting calories and rarely deviating to beer or an ice cream bar, I’m not working hard enough. I don’t deserve to enjoy deviations anyway. I must not be pushing myself enough at the gym because I’m not as strong as I used to be. I’m completely consumed by choosing food, ignoring hunger, hating my body, and wondering why I just can’t get it right. Why isn’t anything working?
This is not normal. This isn’t healthy. I’m so obsessed with my physical appearance that I don’t care about any of the things I can do. I don’t know what to do to make myself stop. I’ve been obsessed with being thin as long as I can remember and I’ve never been thin enough. I’ve tried to shift my mind to what I can do. That’s why I ran my first half marathon. It’s why I started doing crossfit. It’s why I still try. It always falls back to knowing that my body won’t look the way I want because I don’t work hard enough at it.
I’m not fishing for compliments or sympathy. I know this is mental illness. I know why I don’t do emotions. I know that this is all distorted thinking. I even have a set of worksheets to help me out of this. I just needed to say something and put it out there that I’m not always ok, but I’ll be ok; That sometimes, I’m my own worst critic even when I’m pouring my whole self into something.
Thanks for reading.