Mirror, Mirror

I don’t understand. I really don’t. How so many people can see so many things in me that I just can’t.

I am part of an all female group on Facebook. It’s lead by a photographer that idolizes all body types, and does boudoir photo shoots, among other things. So I decided that it might be a good idea to have a shoot with this photographer. She’s so sweet, and uplifting, and so very inspirational.

I got to set on the scheduled Saturday, after my boyfriend practically pushed my stalling ass out of the house. This was waaaay out of my comfort zone. But, this photographer and her group is what inspired me to finally seek help for my… eating habits. So I took a deep breath, and excitedly entered the studio. The photographer was having ‘a day’. The hair and makeup artist was warm and welcoming… but you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

The photographer was having a relapse, and the other woman there knew that. So she says, “So let’s talk about eating disorders for a moment.” The photographer hadn’t eaten in 6 days, was being forced to drink a protein shake by her friend doing my hair and makeup, and wanted me to just be the person who understood without really having to say anything. And oh, do I ever.

The rest of the hair and makeup time was spent talking about how hard it is for her to raise up all of these beautiful women, and be inspirational for all of them, while feeling so incredibly horrible about herself. She felt the hypocrisy I’ve so often babbled on about in this blog. And I selfishly hated being a part of that conversation. I had paid to be there, and be pampered, and feel good about myself… and here, the whole ugly eating disorder issue was rearing it’s ugly head right in front of me.

The shoot itself felt like it went extremely well. I was in my element. I had modeled for a bit about 13 years ago… but nothing like this. I felt great. She kept telling me that everything was great, I was doing so well, that I was nailing every shot. And I felt good about that! I was impressed with myself.

Today, I got the sneak peek. A collage by the photographer of 4 photos. And reality crashed around me. I don’t look sexy. I look like me. And it made me cry. Here, I had been anticipating these incredible photos of me outside of my element, being sexy, and all made up… but it was still just me. I immediately started tearing myself apart. And I still am. My boyfriend, obviously, loves the pictures. I had one of my group friends directly message me telling me how incredible I looked.

All I can see are all of the things makeup and cameras can’t hide. My mouth with the down-turned corners. My front teeth that are slightly bigger making me look like a rat. My back that doesn’t arch properly when I try to ‘arch’ it. My thighs looking like sausage links.

I just wish I could see what other people do. I want to be able to find myself attractive without feeling completely empty. At the very least, it would be great to just not hate myself.

Lost Cause

I had an appointment with my therapist yesterday. She mentioned to me that body image and eating habits could take a lifetime to change, and she wants to give me the tools necessary to be my own therapist. She wants to make our meetings less frequent soon, and then just do follow-up appointments every once in a while following that.

I feel like she is breaking up with me. Like my problems can’t be that bad if she doesn’t think I need to meet with her. Which takes me right back to the place of “I’m making this into more than it really needs to be”. When I mentioned this thought to one of my best friends, he said, “Well don’t you think you might be?”.

I want to give up. I want to ignore that anything is even happening. I want to go back to the place where I didn’t talk about anything that was going on with me, and pretend like everything is okay like I’ve done for my entire life. This hasn’t been a problem until now. . .why make it into more than it is?

I feel like I just need to put my big girl pants back on, turn around, and forget that I ever entertained this idea.

But I’m not a quitter. I need to just put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving.

The Little Things

I’ve noticed that a lot of my posts are quite negative. Even when I am trying to do my best to encourage myself, mostly around the end, that I’m doing alright.

This morning, I had a particularly difficult time with the dress I had picked out to wear. I even have three outfits still laying on my bed as alternatives, because I really was not feeling my outfit for the day at all. To be honest, I’m still really not feeling it.

I asked my boyfriend if my dress looked weird, as it hangs differently at certain parts that I’m really not used to clothes bunching. He assured me, more than once, that the dress is indeed cut weirdly, and it has a few bunching issues. He also said I looked fantastic, and that it wasn’t me – it’s the dress. Now, that didn’t fully reassure me, and I’m still having some issues with the way I feel in this dress. But I will say, it made me feel better to hear him say that. The fact that it wasn’t all in my head was a great relief.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that there is no possible way to explain to him the way I feel about my body and the way I look. There is no way for me to expect him to understand. But I have noticed that he really seems to be trying to reassure me when I need him to. He believes me when I tell him how poorly I feel. And that wouldn’t be the case if I didn’t come out and tell him that sometimes, I need a little extra encouragement. He’s always thought that I’m just really hard on myself. But now that I’m opening up to him about my therapy, and some of the issues that I’ve kept locked away, I think that he’s really trying to understand and take it seriously – take me seriously. And that is a really important aspect of our relationship.

So. The last few weeks have been a little difficult. I’ve slipped up a little, and maybe moved in the wrong direction. But – and this time I really mean it – that doesn’t mean that I can’t move in the right direction. Maybe I do need to be a little less hard on myself. It may not be the only way to rectify my situation, but accepting that it’s okay to default as long as I don’t get stuck there is a big deal.

I know that right now, it feels like a never-ending battle. It feels like I’m treading water, not making any progress. Like any time I do move, it’s backwards. But I’ve taken some huge steps. There are a lot of things that I’m taking on, and I’m not failing at all of them. And that, in my book, is enough of a victory for now. It’s the little things in life that really make a difference. and each little baby step that I take toward changing and being healthy is actually a huge step toward accomplishing that goal.

Struggles

This weekend was a nice balance of hanging out, working hard, and having fun. It was not, however, conducive to my progress.

I had a great night Saturday. I had a nice little tuna cake burrito. It was fab. I snacked on some carrot sticks with peanut butter and ranch after the kids went to bed. It was wonderful and delicious, and I didn’t feel horrible afterwards.

Then there was yesterday. I was doing a bit of early summer cleaning, organizing, getting rid of things. Then I took the kiddos to the mall for a bit, had some fun. We went out to eat lunch, and I had some coffee, thinking “I’m not hungry yet, but I’ll eat a good dinner”. Then there was more cleaning to do when I got home, and getting dinner ready for the kids, and getting them ready for bed, then my shower… then it was 10 o’clock and by boyfriend was home.

I feel like I’ve taken a full step back. And I find that disappointing. But now all I need to do is take two steps forward, right? Get back on track. That can’t be too hard. I just have to keep my head up, and one foot in front of the other. Easy peasy….

If you couldn’t tell by now, a lot of this blog is me trying to implement the old tried and true method of – “if I talk like I mean it, some day it will be true”. Let me tell you what. I talk a big talk. I always have. I’m very good at convincing people to love themselves the way they are, and that they are beautiful just the way they are. And I’m great at saying that I’m perfectly fine, and people believe me. But not one time have I convinced myself that I’m telling the truth. I used to say “Fake it ’till you make it, and one day, you won’t have to fake it anymore”. I’m not so sure I agree with that anymore.

But here I am, trying to convince myself that I’m strong, that I can do this. That I’m capable of letting go of this crutch that has carried me through my life. But am I really? Or am I just faking it again, and this time I’m actually trying to believe my own lies. I’m not quite sure yet. But I don’t have much of a choice right now but to at least try.

Slippery Slope

This is a wonderful, glorious weekend where I have nothing to do except for spend time hanging out with the kids and relax. My boyfriend is at his home this weekend with his son, so it’s just me and the kiddos.

There’s only one problem. I was so excited to have an evening with just the kids last night, and they had eaten dinner before I picked them up. So aside from the three bites of my work snack before deciding the cheese had warmed up too much to be good and ditching it back in the refrigerator, I didn’t eat anything yesterday.

Now I’m at a point where I so easily find myself. I’m not hungry. Nothing sounds good. And I have no motivation to eat. Here I am, trying to get better, trying to become healthy, and I have one day where I don’t eat… and I feel like I’m right back at square one. If anything, this just makes me want to work out. I love the feeling of my muscles working off the excess weight I’ve been carrying around the last week on an empty stomach. Nothing else to weigh me down.

I’ve recognized this as dangerous territory. This is where, in the past, I would just go with it, and not really worry about the fact that my body had absolutely nothing to fuel it but caffeine and nicotine. I would just embrace it as starting my new cycle. But because I’m trying to break that cycle, I recognize that I need to eat something. I need to eat something before I become terrified to put anything into my body again…which happens at an alarming rate.

I also recognize that it would be so easy to just… not. That, I think is one of the hardest and scariest parts of all this. I know that I would be completely fine going another two days without eating, and everything would be hunky dory. But I’m not trying to get better because it’s easy. And I made a commitment to myself when I started being open about this and going to therapy. I am NOT a quitter. And I don’t take the easy way out. So damnit, I’m going to find something, anything, that I will eat for dinner tonight. Even if it’s something small. Before I slide all the way down that hill.

Back-Track

This past week, I’ve been trying to push myself. I ate more than I wanted to Saturday, didn’t log on Sunday – having 3 plates of food at a buffet, no less! – and I’ve been trying to keep my dinners above 500 calories.

My brain is telling me that I need to simmer down with all of this change. I’m gaining weight back. I’m becoming ‘large’. My body is jiggling in places I’d rather it not. I look disgusting, and my fat is bulging everywhere. I’m not exercising, and it’s starting to show. I can’t find any clothes that look right on me. This is not progress. I am effectively “letting myself go”.

I talked to my boyfriend about this. About feeling like all of this is more hurtful to me than helpful. That I feel so gross and unattractive. He does not think I look any different now than I did before I gained 5 pounds. In his mind, 5 pounds will melt off in a day. I do not measure any larger than I did – with the exception of on the scale. And when he looks at me, I can tell that he’s attracted to me. He has a certain way of making me feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet when he looks at me in a certain way. But then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror… and I wonder… how? How can he make me feel this way when I look like that?

This next week, I may have to backtrack a little in order to find a bit of balance. My self-esteem this past week has been critical to say the least, and I have an event next weekend that will either boost it… or crush me entirely. I feel like if I take a few steps to make myself feel better… even if it’s just adding exercise to my extra caloric intake, or taking my dinners down a step… I think that would ensure that next weekend won’t be a catastrophe.

I need to find myself again. The person I was before I allowed this… mindset… to entirely take over who I am. I wish I could just enjoy life again, and not be in perpetual worry that whatever I’m doing is going to result in me blowing up like a balloon. And I may need to take a step back from my “progress” every once in a while to cope with certain things. But that does not mean that I will not get back on track. And I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am NOT alone.

The Week That Never Ends

This is one of those weeks that feels like it is just never going to end. But then I realized… This week is just a continuation of all the same issues from last week, which had bled over from the week before.

Usually, especially where work is involved, if I have a problem, I take care of it, it’s done. I don’t see the name again for a few weeks. The last two weeks, I’ve been trying to solve two specific cases where the people with whom I’m working either aren’t listening to what I’m saying, or they think they know the situation better than I do. Now I’ll be the first to tell you, I’m still learning. I do not know everything. But if I am working on something, actively, for a long period of time, you can bet your ass, I’m going to know everything of which I’m capable related to the issue at hand.

On top of all that frustration, I’ve been not doing very well with my homework from my therapist. Actually, with the exception of not taking tape measurements over the weekend, and – okay – I did manage to go a whole day without tracking my calories on Sunday. Those are both victories.

*Breathe*

Okay. I’ve been doing a decent job of following my homework. And while I recognize that, it just doesn’t really seem to be helping my thinking process, or the way I’ve felt about myself. Boy, I wouldn’t say half the things that have gone through my head about my worst enemy. So why do I think them about myself? Why is it so hard to just love myself? Or, at the very least, tolerate me.

Tomorrow is Friday. And then I get to have a wonderful weekend with my wonderful babies. And I will re-find my center. This is good. It will end.

Mental Dumping Ground

I have been in a very bad place in my head the last few days. It’s hard for me to look at any part of my body without feeling the need to literally cry – and I’m not a crier.

I know that I am so much more than how I look. I’m pretty funny. I’m really quite smart. My children adore me, and think I’m the best mom in the world. But I look down at myself, and there is nothing good I see.

My boyfriend has this idea in his head that I have plenty of self-esteem. That I just need to be more comfortable with showing my body in certain ways. Let me tell you something… my self-esteem, though I talk a big talk, is damn near non-existent. I don’t feel like right now, I can realistically show any part of my body without making other people totally disgusted.

I’ve been working on wearing clothes that don’t completely cover my entire shape. I know that there are certain things my boyfriend likes seeing me wear, and so I try to wear them to avoid looking like a complete blob any time I’m around him. Yesterday, it was booty shorts.

I sat down in our outside chairs for a smoke, and I looked at my thighs – and almost gagged. I made it 45 minutes before changing back into my sweat pants and sweater.

Sometimes I feel bad for my boyfriend. He didn’t sign up for all this. He didn’t sign up for a woman who’s so ashamed of her body that she hardly lets him see it. I have been trying so hard to look at myself the same way he sees me… and all I see is how I don’t look as attractive as any of the other girls he looks at.

I know that at the moment, I’m trying to get “better”, but all I can think about is if I get better, then I’m just going to get really big, and lose all the progress I’ve made. For me right now, “better” is 20 pounds lighter than I am, working out and paying attention to what I eat. But realistically, I know that’s not right. I know that “paying attention to what I eat” should really be “making sure my body has the nutrients it needs”, and “working out” … well I could probably stand to work out a little more.

I will say. This blog, as much as it is a mental dumping ground for me, really helps. Every like I get, every new person who follows me makes me feel… less alone? Like there’s someone out there rooting for me. Or learning from me. It makes me feel oddly… purposeful? At this point, I just really appreciate the fact that I have a place I can just vent. And like my profile says… if I’m not helping anyone else, at least I’m trying to help myself.

But if you’re reading this, I want you to know I really appreciate you using your time to get to know me. Thank you.

Everything Sucks

Today is a bitch day. Where I just NEED to get everything out of my system.

I. Feel. Disgusting. In every facet of the word. I feel sick to my stomach. I feel like my entire body looks like misshapen pizza dough. And now that I think of it, I’ve felt that way pretty much all weekend. I don’t remember what my weight was this morning… and THAT terrifies me. Last night I was up a bit, and it would have maybe calmed me at least knowing what my weight is.

My boyfriend pointed out a woman at the park during my lunch break. I told him she looks tiny, to which he replied, “That is what you look like.” I didn’t believe him. Today, I feel particularly large. I almost felt like he was trying to prank me… but I think even he knows better than that.

It has just been a particularly rough day. Work is going well. Life in general is pretty fantastic… I just don’t have the energy to deal with my brain at the moment. I can’t look at myself without being disgusted at what I’m seeing.

If I had one wish, and I truly mean this, I would wish that no one would ever have to feel the way I feel about myself, about themselves. I know that I’m not the only person out there that has to constantly battle the thoughts in their head – far from it – but I really wish no one would ever have to feel that way. It’s really not a great feeling. I want to crawl in a whole, lie in a ball, and go to sleep. Just hibernate.

Here’s To Trying

I was at work on Friday, and my boyfriend was anticipating father’s day weekend with me and his son when he messaged me, “bring a swimsuit”.

Last year, we went to Ocean City, and I had purchased 2 new bikinis in anticipation for that trip. And I had gotten small in anticipation for that trip. I am not quite as small now, so the mere thought of myself wearing those instantly drove my anxiety through the roof.

Something that I find particularly bothersome in society right now is the “body positivity” movement. The main pain point for me there is that everyone is telling everyone else that it’s okay to look this way or that way…. But I was raised to believe that the only opinion that really matters is your own. And in my opinion, I should not be wearing a swimsuit – let alone a bikini.

I packed the damn thing anyway. And not my high-waisted one. (My boyfriend thinks it covers too much of my body and I don’t need to) Either luckily for me, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, the weather was not cooperative for such ventures.

However, now that summer is here and swimsuit season is actually upon us… I feel the need to pay more attention to junk I put in my body. It’s been through some junk this weekend, for sure. Ugh. Trying to find a balance…. That’s the difficult part. Here’s to trying.