Trigger Unhappy: Weight

Today I made the decision to weigh myself. I knew that the news wouldn't be good - just after Christmas is always a damage limitation zone. I also knew that I wasn't being a very good friend to myself because I knew how it would make me feel. If there is one thing that can bring my mood crashing right down it's knowing that I weigh more. I did it anyway. I suppose it's partly because I felt I had to know, partly because it's what I have always done and partly to give own self a scolding.

Rationally I don't know why I place such meaning on the flickering number on the scales - when other people gain weight I almost never think they look bad. That said, I always notice. I used to be obsessed with watching other people eat. I still parallel the people I'm with, berating myself if I eat more than they do, stiff with sadness if I have to make up excuses as to why I'm not hungry.

After everything I've been through there are some things I know. Firstly I know that this is a learned behaviour from a long time ago, when I learnt thin = good. I was a twelve year old writing in my diary about how I needed to lose weight. When you do people tell you look great. 'You've lost weight', unless you are suffering from an illness, seems always to be a compliment. The same magazines that tell you to be proud of your figure advocate weight loss and dieting. I stopped reading them along time ago, but the message rolls around at the back of you. Thin = good, not thin = not good.

I weigh more than I did and I am not happy about it. If I hadn't been through almost two decades of this, if I hadn't gotten help, I know what I would believe. I am not thin (although it must be said no matter how much I weight I lost I never felt content and never believed I was thin) therefore I am not good. That's what I would be thinking right now. It would curl up in my stomach and purr cruelly at me every time I even thought about eating. The thing is now I don't feel like it matters so much. And I'm not sure how I feel about feeling that.  I'm not driven to hurt myself the way I used to, because my depression is under control. Mostly. It makes me nervous knowing that some of the habits I had then, when I spoke to myself in riddles of hatred, I might have to use now. Dieting after having an eating disorder is like walking on the side of a bridge, praying that you fall inside it - not off it- if you stumble.

"What a strange illusion it is, that beauty is goodness."

Miss D x

I hope

Today has gone quickly. 

I hope you have experienced some glimmers of joy this Christmas 

I hope they continue

I hope that you feel a little positive about the world 

I hope that you enjoy listening to this song as much as I do

Merry Christmas 

Miss D x

I want to be a writer

"I want to be a writer". This thought has been in my head since I started reading books. I loved reading, I loved writing. Then I got older. I started using words to hurt myself. To write about how much I wasn't. And I lost faith. 

It went something like this:

The world: Everyone wants to be a writer

Me: You're not special, you're not talented, you'll never make it.

The world: Filled with literary genius, people who can create 

Me: Still scrawling how much I hate myself on to a page 

The world: There will always been someone better

Me: You're not good enough. Never will be 

The thing that I have only just come to realise is this: I am a writer. I have written for as long as I can remember and no-one can take that away from me. Now those words, ones I wrote in the midst of an ill-understood pain, help me realise how much I hated myself, how not ok it was and how far I have come. The help me to understand I wasn't just a moody teenager. I didn't just eat too much or not eat at all. I wasn't unattractive and horrible. I was just extremely good at pushing everything good away. 

I am a writer.