I am absolutely, 100%, without a doubt, ashamed of myself.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always talked about wanting to be thinner, wanting to feel more confident in myself, wanting to be a better version of myself. I would tell myself that I could do so much more if I could just get skinny, if I could just be thinner. As I was growing up, I thought people were whispering behind my back, talking about me and my weight, making fun of me when they thought I wasn’t looking or listening. And as I got older, and I started packing the weight on more, I grew more paranoid. To this day, the first thought that runs through my mind is that someone’s talking about me or my weight whenever I see someone whispering. Realistically, I know that’s not true. Mentally, that was, and sometimes still is, the only truth. And all of this stems from the self-loathing that has just been bottled up inside of me, unable to come out. And so I ate. I ate to comfort myself. I ate to make the pain go away. I ate to forget. And what limited food I ate, I didn’t eat to live. I lived to eat. There were times when I all I could think about after just having ate a meal was when I would get to eat again and what it would be. It was like a never ending cycle of food. Still is, for the most part. And all I could think to myself was that everything would just get better if I somehow, miraculously, became skinny.
For years upon years, I have let myself down. I put off my skinniness to ‘tomorrow’ after ‘tomorrow’. I tried every diet and would fall off the wagon when things got tough in other aspects of my life. Let’s be real, though. There was a really good period – a period where I stuck to everything I said I wanted to do, and I did it. And that resulted in losing 80 pounds. But, like every other time, I fell apart, unglued at the hinges, and just wasted away. Thankfully, I’ve not gained that 80 pounds back. No, I’ve maintained in this area, feeling the repercussions of my start-again/stop-again focus towards accomplishing my ultimate goal – being thinner, healthier, better. But still, the ultimate let down is letting myself down by falling off the wagon again and again, time after time.
I met a man over four years ago, and, at first, I thought he was a creeper. I had just moved in to an apartment with my best friend and her boyfriend, and this guy came over to hang out with my BFF’s boyfriend. I came downstairs to grab my desk chair, and as I was talking to the guys for a moment, he caught my eye, smiled, and patted his lap, as if asking me to come sit down on it. I declined, grabbed my chair, and ran upstairs as fast as I possibly could, immediately sitting down and telling my online friends how absolutely weirded out I had been. The conversation died after some time and we moved on to other topics, but this guy never left my mind. His first impression was a bit of a doozy, for sure, and something I never expected.
But he kept coming over more often, hanging out with us and all of our craziness. We watched movies and had parties, like youngsters typically did, and he was there, mostly to spend time with me. His interest in me made me curious, and by February 7th, 2009, we started dating.
Fast forward to today, and we’re still together. We’ve had our share of ups and downs, highs and lows, just as every couple has. For the most part, we’ve been dating across a mild-distance of about 60-70 miles, and that in itself takes its toll on a person….
Recently, though… He proposed. In front of my parents and his, and a bit more of our families, he asked me to marry him, and I accepted. But, as each day passes and I grow more and more angry with myself for not sticking to my plans, not keeping my focus, I can’t help but ask myself the following: How can I fully dedicate myself to him when I can barely dedicate myself to myself? How can I love him when I don’t truly love myself.
The easy answer is one I’ve given often – I put others before myself, and I always will. My well-being is second rate to everyone else’s. I’m a people-pleaser.
The right answer, however, is simple: I don’t know.
And when I try to think of the answer, I come back to how often I’ve let myself fail. How often I’ve let myself down. I get emotional, I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. And I say I’m going to commit to myself, in order to make things better for my relationship.
That question is still something I need to answer before my trip down the aisle in February 2014.
I need to finish what I started. I need to get back on the wagon and never get off again. I need to realize that its okay to not have a great day, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to give up in every other aspect in my life. I need to learn how to get out and socialize without being paranoid. I need to learn how to just get out in general and go have some fun. I need to learn how to stick to my plan so I can accomplish my goals.
There’s a lot of stuff I need. But, most importantly, I need to remember why I am doing this. What is it that I want?
I want to be happy and healthy.
I want to live to be old.
I want to have kids and grandkids and great-grandkids.
I want to quit buying plus size clothes.
I want to love myself.
All of these will take time, and I fear that will be the hardest thing for me to overcome. But it is something I need to work on. So, I suppose this means I am officially back on the wagon. And let’s
try not fall off this time.