First blog post in a long time blah blah blah, life blah blah. You guys get it.
We take care of the things we love.
Yesterday, I was driving and I realized I take the best care of the things I love. If I loved myself and my body more, I would take care of it better.
Sounds simple, right? Bullshit.
Let me tell you a story about last Tuesday.
Last Tuesday I saw my therapist and my shrink. I hadn’t been seeing my therapist like I should because I was too busy. I found out I’ve lost thirteen pounds in about 5 months. I was finally honest to my shrink about how badly things had been going and something need to change with my medicine. I had started water aerobics again. All good stuff, all hope.
The story lies in what lead me there.
I was in a bad, bad place. I hated my life. The only time I was happy was when I was with the Viking. Every morning I woke up wishing my day was over. Things would flash in my head that scared me. Part of me wanted to destroy everything including myself. If I had super powers, I would have become a super villain. I was angry and hurting and hopeless.
I was having panic attacks almost daily. One night, I woke up with a panic attack so bad I would have thought I was dying had I not know. This was at the Viking’s house, the place I feel the happiest and safest in the world. I had to crawl out from under the arm of the man who carries my heart to sit in his living room and work through feeling like I was going to die. I had several more panic in the middle of different nights, and they SUCK, but that one is the worst to me.
My medicine was not working. It hadn’t been for three or four months. I should have talked to my doctor. I didn’t. I thought it was just me and my life. It wasn’t worth the effort. I wasn’t worth the effort.
I take care of the things I love.
I’ve started and stopped attempts at more healthful living more times than I can count. I go strong for a little while then I falter and start to loathe myself. I start because I look at my body and hate it. I blame my body and myself for so many of my short comings. Me/body is too weak not to be crazy. Me/body lacks willpower. Me/body is not beautiful or worthy.
I’ve lost the most weight I have in years. I think that is because, while I still didn’t think me/body was worth much, the Viking does. He loves me and my body. I can see myself through his love and, more importantly to a woman who has always felt like no man would want her body, his desire, and me/body feels maybe I have more worth than I originally thought.
I’m back into water aerobics. I’m doing it because I feel better, stronger, and have more worth when I go. I’m doing it because the ladies there are awesome and socializing with others outside of my family helps me escape my head. These are the reasons I’m willing to admit readily to myself.
The Viking bought me a cruise. Seriously, he bought me a vacation for after he finishes his MBA. I feel like a wonderful princess, and it is far more than I deserve. A few days later, Mom told me I was going to feel awkward at the pool on the ship because I am so big. Yep. Awesome. If I’m completely honest, one of the reasons I’m at water aerobics is because I want to lose weight before the cruise. It is RIDICULOUS, because I have two months until the cruise. I wouldn’t lose any significant amount of weight before then, AND I don’t need to lose weight to enjoy myself. I’m working on turning that to wanting to be fitter so I can be more active and enjoy the cruise more.
I take care of the things I love. I need to love me, even me/body, to take care of it.
What would happen to our country if instead of fat shaming or pushes to fix our broken selves, we focused on learning to love ourselves/ our bodies and caring for them because they are precious to us?