At some point through my long-winded childhood, I distinctly remember asking my mother, “Why did the rabbit say he loved his son more than himself?”. Being at a young age I was perplexed about the idea of a person loving oneself, don’t you just love other people? So it was obvious that when during story time Mr. Bunny Rabbit declared his infinite love for Baby Bunny, that I would meet the concept with some confusion. I remember my mother answering, “We all love ourselves in some way or another. Some of us love ourselves more that we love anyone else”. I remember gazing at her, my brain trying to understand the concept. Finally I said sincerely, “I don’t, I will aways love other people more”. If then had I realised that such a promise could impact my life so much, I might never have made it.
Since that age I have grown up. Not just in height and in stature but as the doctors have told me, my brain and my ability to make appropriate decisions have developed aswell. But has it really? Do I still put others needs before myself? Have I really changed my morals and values from my 4 year old self who sat in bed in her Wiggles pyjamas, pondering the concept of valuing yourself above others? Some how I think not. I am immersed in a world where self indulgence is labelled as ‘stuck-up’, whilst any expression of self hate is referred to as ‘attention seeking’. We hardly get any indication on what is appropriate level of respect for yourself. Somewhere half-way would be considered as adequate in some minds, however many of us find it much harder to manage than others.
I have found my self in the lower region of self worth. Where I respect myself little more than that annoying piece of dirt under your nail. I live in fear of being called ‘attention seeking’ and looked upon as seeking sympathy and comfort from others about my own lack of self values. That is the last thing I want. I deem my self unworthy to both of those things, and hate the idea of people wasting their time on me. Instead I keep quite about it, and let the hate linger inside me until it explodes out. I’m not sure if anyone else would ever feel this way aswell. But I just think before you describe someone as ‘attention seeking’ whether their feelings might be genuine, because trust me they can.
My exams are finally over. To be honest i couldn’t be more relieved. Maybe I haven’t done myself justice for all the work I did over this semester but at least I’ve got a whole week before I have to look at those dreaded results. However, as I sit here, exhausted from countless nights leaning over text books way past midnight whether all the emotions I am experiencing right now are all relief. I most certainly detect some apprehension. Where it is coming from I’m not quite sure. Perhaps it’s because now exams are over, the doctors will finally have a chance to push that dreaded weight gain. Or perhaps it’s because I know that when I get my results, I know it will never be a mark that is ‘good enough’. Maybe I was so caught up in the moments of working my butt off to achieve those high scores that I forgot to cherish the days. It seems that I am spending most of my life looking forward to the day being over. Then I wake up and the cycle is repeated only this time I and more depressed, more wearisome of the everlasting process. Sure my life is possibly more fulfilling than it was before. Those long hospital admissions that took away months of my teenage years. Yet I feel that even though I am in the outside world ‘experiencing life’, I am yet to enjoy it.
It’s amazing that it took me a whole paragraph to explain the obvious. If I asked myself now whether I liked my life the answer was easy. “No” of course I don’t. I’m exhausted from the constant hatred the quickens my pulse as I glance down at my repulsive body. I’m tired of the perfectionistic side of me nagging that nothing is ever good enough. I hate that I feel like my life is stationery whilst everyone else life rushes by. Yet until this moment, I don’t think I have ever fully appreciated how important it is that I look past these faults. I’m not sure if my life will ever get better. It’s sad but true. People keep saying, “It will get better” or “you’ll recover”, but the truth is that there is no way people can possibly know that. So whilst I can, I need to try and enjoy my life for as long as I have. With my eating disorder or not. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to conquer this monster. But even if I don’t, I would like to think that the time I had on the earth was pleasant.
wheres the hannah montana wig when you need it
Today I came across a blog. I have no idea who the owner is, and my hunch could be completely wrong. But whether it is who I think it is or not, just by reading it, I felt the sudden urge to return to writing. That’s not to say I don’t write at all, nor am I going to fill up this blog with all my whimsical stories that pop into my head. I simply think it’s time for me to relearn how to open up to others. Whether this blog is read or not, I honestly don’t mind. But I feel it is important for me to release some of these feelings that I have built up inside me for the last 2 years.
To be honest it’s worked rather well. Not contemplating or considering how I’m feeling has managed to push me into a place of happiness that 3 years ago, I never dreamed I’d be alive to achieve. However, it came at a price. By not considering my emotions I have possibly have developed a fear of letting on to anyone how I am actually feeling. I have gone to crying often during my Psych appointments as he always wants to talk about my eating disorder. A devil I never acknowledge even exists. Just to contemplate the terror that my illness unleashes inside me, brings hot tears to my eyes and I can hardly speak. So for once I think it’s important I re-enter the so called ‘eating-disorder’ or ‘recovery’ world, just to spend a moment to contemplate how I feel. Whether it’s good or complete shit, I think it’s important that I take just a second to consider myself as a person with feelings, and not the working, constantly studying robot I have become.
I hoped that it would defy my feelings. That somehow they were just figments of my imagination and that they weren’t really happening but they’re not.
The last few days… actually more like week I have been feeling unbelievably fat. For a while I actually felt like I was losing weight but I suddenly feel like I’m piling it all back on. Sorry not feeling.. I know that I am. I don’t know why and I don’t know what to do because my eating hasn’t changed or anything. I can barely look at myself at the moment and I am in a state of jitters. I’m huge and ugly and I don’t look sick anymore. I thought I was for a while and I had gone so long without having these thoughts but they are back in full blast. When I say I wasn’t having these thoughts it doesn’t mean that I wasn’t worried about my weight and such but that I wasn’t constantly worrying that I’ve gained weight. And now it’s back. Ever since I told someone that my thoughts were ok they become stronger. So I’m back.. and I’ll be posting more. I honestly can’t believe this is happening again…