Today I hate Marie. Me. I haven’t lost any weight in three days and I am disgusted with myself and how I look and everything about me. I have been going back to throwing up my food to help jump start the process of losing weight or to make up for any times that I go over my calorie limit.
But why do I feel this way? When I started this diet I was dozens of pounds heavier and I was actually happy with myself. I just wanted to be able to shop in the regular clothing departments. I was perfectly satisfied with Marie. I like her. But now I’m never satisfied, at least not lately. I’m always waiting to drop the next pound. And I don’t like myself and I’m unhappy until I do.
Sometimes though I have to ask myself why I don’t like me. Because sometimes I’m totally okay with me and I’m even quite a fan. As sad as that is. Sometimes I think it’s bipolar related. I don’t like to think that because I don’t like to think that my perception of reality is so heavily based on a mental illness, a chemical imbalance in my brain. I like to think that my perceptions belong to me and are perceived through a lens that is no more distorted than anyone else’s.
But I have to admit that if I hate myself for being fat, it doesn’t make sense that I hate myself more now that I’m down to about 160 than I did when I was over 200. So what has changed since then? I’ve taken up new hobbies and been reunited with my husband and I have been writing like crazy. So basically on the surface my life is just as good or better than it was a few months ago when I weighed over 200. One thing is different however. When I started this diet I was mentally stable. Completely stable, which felt amazing because I hadn’t been stable my entire adult life. Now I’m not stable. I’m having mood swings. My anxiety is high. I’m not balanced. I’m by no means the worst I’ve ever been. But I’m definitely not doing nearly as good as I was. And as my mood has started to deteriorate, I find that I no longer love myself.
I’m trying to convince me to love myself again and to assume or acknowledge that this is just a passing phase with an unstable mood. But yet I can’t quite seem to do that. Maybe I’ll come out the other side of this and be able to write a post that future me can use to get out of this obsessive and self-critical blues. I’m definitely going to try if I snap back out of this. And hopefully I will, since so much in my life is cyclical. But for now I know that there’s no winning. Or at least I can’t find a way to win. If I get up in the morning and get on the scale and I haven’t lost weight, or even if God forbid I have gained a little bit of weight, I will be miserable. If I have lost weight in the morning I will be dissatisfied. I will wish it was more and start planning and plotting for how I can change the numbers for the next morning. And either way I will not like Marie.