As most of you well know I have been lacking in the writing department. For no other reason that I am just lazy and it is winter. I thought I had it this year, that the unforgiving sadness and grief had let go finally until I realized that it had me just in a different way. Instead of giving into the sad and darkness I "fought" may way through it again with food and wine. I have consumed every emotion I have felt in the last 6 months and if you combine that with the fact that my feet have not allowed me to run or zumba what you end up with is a really fat sad person who really doesn't know how to ensure she gets out of this. It feels hopeless. How many times must I go down this road. The weight it goes up .. it goes a little down... it goes UP.. it goes a little down.. it goes UP!!! It is a journey I am utter sick of but have no control it seems. I keep searching for the "this makes me feel better" I have not found it.
Please do not get me wrong.. I have a wonderful life, full of wonderful things and family and friends all of which I could not have made it this far without. I love my jobs and they provide for myself and my family. The puppies I get to love on a daily basis are sweet little blessings. I have a boyfriend who loves the ground I walk on (yes we all know). Parents who have stood beside me. Friends who love me regardless. And one trainer who has tried for years to make me hear him.
I wonder if he knows some times that it isn't that I don't hear him, or that I don't listen, it's that the monster that lives inside of me takes over and none of it matters. It's an emptiness that is so relentless that you just try to fill it with anything you can get your hands on. For me.. that is food and booze. I thank God it has never been drugs because there is no doubt I would be dead by now but none the less this is slowly killing me. Partially physically partially emotionally.
Let's talk about dying for a minute. If I by chance woke up tomorrow dead, I would be ok with that. My job here would have been done and hopefully I would finally be at peace. That in no way means that right this minute I want to die, yet I feel like I am not living again. Maybe it takes me having crazy goals like Spartans and Marathons to make me feel alive and like I am not missing out on life. Right now, with this body I feel like I am in a coma at a juncture where I have to decide to grab life or let go. I have to get to a place that I can run again, where I can get over a 8 foot wall without the fear of crushing a team mate if I fall on them, where I can do a sit up and the fat doesn't smoosh me to the point I can't breathe. In short this is fucking ridiculous.
If you think that I just happily go about my day chowing down on goodies with no remorse, regret, or feelings of self hatred boy are you wrong. I wonder am I that person that people shake their heads at when they see in a restaurant ordering food? Am I just a few downward spirals from My 600 Lb life and riding a scooter through the grocery store filling my cart with cakes and cookies? Am I a year away from wiping my own ass with a toilet brush?? (you're welcome Dinks). Am I really the fat kid that people made fun of in school? I tipped the scales at about 125 then and yet the taunting happened anyway because I wasn't size 2. Am I a wart hog? I wonder does he still call me that in his head at family dinners because I still hear it in mine. I wonder why I am in this class with these amazingly fit women, do people watch the videos and think WTF is she doing there? Do they look at me waitressing and wonder if I ate half the menu before shift? You would think that these thoughts alone would make me stop eating and trying to drown my own sickening thoughts with wine, but nope. It is always hey.. look at that bowl of risotto I bet that would be amazing and for 2 minutes while I scarf that down all is ok with the world but then it is on to maybe a glass of wine will make me feel a little better while I discuss in my own head how terrible of a human I am for eating the risotto and deciding yes.. in fact I am a wart hog and disgusting, but wait, I didn't have dessert, screw it already had wine and risotto, chocolate will be great with the rest of this bottle. Then you go to bed and you say tomorrow will be different or you will be at peace, neither of which happens.
I considered surgery, but there is a fear there that I can't get past and the simple fact that cutting me open won't fix my head and heart. So here I sit wondering if this time I will get to my goals. Wondering if this time I take my life back from the monster. Wondering what you really see when you look at me, do you even see how broken I have to be inside to have become this on the outside? Wondering if the only way to find peace and to live again is to just die. Wondering what you are going to name this post because I just don't have it. Wondering if it is ok to stop typing now even though there is no wrap up because I just have no more energy....
Love and Peace