There Are Worse Things Than Being Alone
two, thirteen, sixteen
multiple variations of not feeling okay in my own skin
I feel like it's time to write something new.
The last thing I wrote was, admittedly, pretty heavy & self-revealing. Not that I regret that, but it tends to worry some people when they see me write things like that. Don't worry, my statements of 'I'm going to throw myself under a moving train' & the like are no indicative of any suicidiality.
I've been forced to look at myself pretty thoroughly lately, trying to decide whether or not to take medication for my supposed depressive disorder, which I feel is more closely related to my temperament + incidental issues.
I was looking at old pictures earlier. I do this occasionally, though these days, I don't cringe...as much.
It's taken me twenty-two years to even be okay with my body. Some days more than others, but it's been a grotesque journey. I can finally say that I can now eat & not feel like I have to 'balance' it in some way. For anyone who's had an eating disorder, you understand. I've not been too forthcoming with a lot of details about mine, but the more I see its effect on other people, the more I feel responsible for putting it out there.
So yeah. That's one huge facet of my life that's affected who I've become. For the longest time, I felt so awful all of the time. Overrun with self-consciousness, I isolated myself in whatever ways I could. I was successful, but miserable. I still have the inclination of isolation when things start getting unpredictable, but I realize how unhealthy that is.
I went swimming this morning. For the first time in my life since I started putting on weight, I had no qualms. Some people might not understand how important & indicative that is, but I have a feeling quite a few do. To realize that I'm just a person like everyone else, to realize that other people most likely don't even care at all, to realize that I deserve no judgment from anyone just like no one else deserves judgment, to realize that I'm the only one that has ever been critical of my body. Some people don't have the ability to say that: they may have been bullied, mistreated, abused, or rejected. I have not. What right do I have to allow a delusion to rule a huge part of my life?
Now I don't care. Anyone who does isn't anyone that I want to be associated with. I'm not saying I intend to let myself go; quite the opposite, as I'm very health-conscious. But on the other hand, I'm also not going to deny myself food, for instance, because I truly believe that one Skinny Cow bar is going to make my hips get any bigger. Sure, I've put on just a few pounds since I moved up to Alabama, but you know what, I'm finally okay with that. I don't feel the need to do intense workouts five times a week. I don't feel the need to restrict what I eat.
I didn't intend for this to become all about eating or the lack thereof, but I guess it's just an expression of one other neurosis I've gotten over. Confidence comes directly from acceptance of oneself, so I guess that's already creeping in. I'm going to need it in the Big Bad City of Chicago, I'm sure. That paired with the motivation I already have, things are looking up for me even more than before.
I'm finally okay. What's next?