My relationship with body positivity: part 3. Sort of.

It’s been a really shitty year. I mean really shitty. So shitty I would love to get hit over the head and forget it ever happened.

I knew it was bad but I don’t think I knew to what extent until I saw some photos of myself from a year ago. I can honestly say I didn’t recognize myself at all. I was happy. I was taking care of my mental health. I was a priority. I was THE priority. Which also means I could be a better person to everyone else.

Want to know what’s super shitty though. The only reason I can recognize these things is because for the first time I reallllly saw how much weight I have gained in the last year. I can happily say I am not mad because of the weight gain. I’m mad because I have lost control.

I had my eating disorder under control for a loooong time. There were days I didn’t even think about food! I just ate! That might sound so simple but when things are bad like they are now it’s all I think about. I can tell you about 5 hours of my day today alone has been spent thinking about food. What I already ate, what I am going to eat next, what time I am going to eat, what I am going to eat tomorrow. You get it. Am I well aware things are really bad and I need some serious help? Yes. I am fully aware what I need to do. But doing it? That takes strength and I am trying to find it right now.

I feel like I can go full therapy on my ass and I know it’s because I am a pile of garbage at dealing with feelings. I can take on everyone elses feelings no problem. It keeps me from dealing with mine! Which also means maybe I’m not as nice as I think I am and I’m actually just selfish but that’s for another day. I grew up not having an outlet for my own emotions. My dad has always been a mess of an addict and I was the oldest. You can add it up. I was the outlet and you can’t really do it for yourself. I’m not saying this to be a martyr or to paint a sob story fit for a reality tv singing competition. It’s just what happened. I had food. It was there for me and it made me feel better. Healthy? Obviously no. I went through some really low lows this year and slowly but surely my old habits came back to life.

So you would think as a full grown woman who sees the reality of her situation I would handle it. And I will. Hopefully sooner rather then later. But I need help. And getting help takes a lot of fucking strength. We obviously all know at this point that the smiling photos you see on instagram aren’t always reality. We know everyone goes through stuff. But we never get specific. And that’s ok! You don’t owe anyone your story. I don’t owe anyone an explanation as to why I have been a bipolar mess this year (I can say this because you know…clinically diagnosed and all). But this shit is super real. Life is really fucking real. And I am tired of playing pretend.