So this one is not about recipes or exercise or even my injury.  This one goes deeper.  I’ve spent the last hour doing two things.  Putting clothes away, which forced me to go through my drawers and get rid of or donate things that just don’t fit anymore (or I wouldn’t wear if they did) and doing some self-evaluation.

Now, I did a ton of laundry today and I was putting it all away and while doing that I experienced something I’ve become somewhat accustomed to…pain.  Pain in my lower back because not only do I have no core, I have a gut that hangs well over my waist band of my pants.  Trying to hold that guy up while I work is a feat all in itself.  My lower back just writhes in pain.  I wince.  I try to engage my core, but there’s just no muscle strength there.  And then there’s the being winded.  No joke.  When you are at this weight, putting away clothes can act as a high intensity activity.  It’s both ridiculous and sad.

I am fully aware of how I got here, and I am fully aware that the choices I made put me here.  With that said, it’s painful.  I don’t like how I look, I don’t like trying on or wearing clothes.  I don’t enjoy eating because it’s the culprit.  I am disappointed in myself.  And that’s painful, too.  This is not a pity-party, it’s just a place for me to capture the entire journey.

I spend a lot of time analyzing other people.  How they look.  Do I look like that person?  Or that person?  Or that one?  And then I realize, generally, I’m the biggest girl in the room.  I’ve seen proof in pictures.  Now, I’m not hung up on things like “am I loveable?”  I generally think I’m a good person.  Inside.  Some days I even feel pretty, attractive, beautiful.  But those days are not very often.  It’s my own private jail.  And it hurts.

I know this is all temporary, and changeable.  I know six months from now I may feel very different, but the truth is, I may not.  I am a believer in body dismorphic syndrome.  I have lost weight before and have not seen my body as different.  Because on the inside, most days when I’m not busy focusing on my size, I feel pretty much like I always have.  Like a fit person.  I’m a bit delusional…but it’s true.  And so I’m not sure I feel a lot different emotionally when I lose weight, and it’s a problem.  Physically I feel much different.  I can move and breath much easier.  Clearly I know there’s a difference.  But emotionally, and what I see in the mirror is super slow to change.  My brain takes much longer to catch up. I’m pretty sure I’ll need to seek therapy to overcome it.  I don’t want this to be “this time.”  I want this to be THE time.  The LAST time.  And I’m willing to be uncomfortable to make that happen.  To do things I haven’t done before.  And that’s willingly seek therapy, as an adult, for the facets of my eating disorder.

Anyway — these are just my thoughts and my feelings tonight.  My self-analysis. I thought I’d not only record it for the future me, but share it with those that have never struggled with this.  I don’t mean struggled with 20, 30 or even 50 pounds…I mean really struggled with an eating disorder.  Where up is down and down is up.  And you feel like you’re along for the ride.  It’s a lonely place to be…and well…it hurts.

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