Beating a dead horse

I know we’re all tired of hearing me whine. I’m tired of hearing me whine. But, here I go again.

Recently, I found out that all my siblings are on anti-depressants. That’s three out of four, for those keeping track. At least we can all mostly joke about it. When my brother told me he was on the happy pills, I joked “who would have ever guessed I’d be the least fucked up on of the bunch?” And now I’m wondering if I’m just better at denial. Yeah, mostly I’m fine. 80% of the time, I’m a happy person and can function normally and can see my own irrational thoughts for what they are.

But, then there’s the other 20%. That’s where I am now. And rather than disappearing and avoiding people, writing and all communication, I’m going to try to be honest about what’s going on in my head. If nothing else, I can use this as a guidepost; “at least I don’t feel like I did back in November ’06.”

I made a kind of off-hand comment to Xtian this weekend, and when he responded with horror, it occurred to me that maybe other people don’t feel the same way I do. I have a semi-formal company dinner in a couple of weeks, and I need some “semi-formal” clothing. Clothes shopping has never been a pleasant experience for me, regardless of size. Now, really, in retrospect it wasn’t a good day to shop. After my back injury I took two weeks off from running, and with the funk that’s been around me, I haven’t been taking care of myself food/activity-wise. And apparently two weeks are all I need to expand two dress sizes.

Jen recommended a store that had a handful of cute things in the ballpark of my size. So, I put a smile on, picked out a few things that looked cute. As soon as the zipper hit the top on the first one, I knew it was a mistake to go shopping. Fighting back tears I put the items back on the hanger, and left the store. Xtian tried to be supportive, but there’s nothing he can say. I felt absolutely disgusting, and disgusted with myself. I finally just picked out the largest sized clothing I’ve ever owned and went home. It was later, after having a few drinks and calming down that I was able to verbalize.

“Looking at myself in those clothes, all I want to do is take a knife and carve sections of my body out.” I thought that was a pretty standard thing to think. Hell, not a day goes by I don’t fantasize about that. Xtian’s obvious alarm made me think, perhaps that’s not a normal feeling. The only weight I’ve ever successfully lost and kept off for longer than a month was when I was 14 and just stopped eating. I lived on dry Cheerios and soda for 5 years.

As I stood in front of the mirror, I thought to myself “I’m so ashamed at having lost all that willpower. I used to be able to go for days on end without food. And look where eating daily has gotten me.” It was only the next day that I realized how fucked up that thinking is. Envying the girl I was, who didn’t think of anything except everything I wasn’t eating.

But, really, my doctor tested me last year for thyroid issues etc. So, the only thing wrong with me, is ME.

Sure, perhaps all this body hatred is a reaction to feeling out of control of my life and my body. My MIL is a horrible human who does everything in her power to hurt others to “make them pay,” I’m having a hard time getting pregnant, my cycle is so screwed up I don’t even know what to do with it. All things I really have no control over, and I find myself starting my old behaviors again. Anyone seeing a pattern?

And yet, I find that when people ask how I am, I have to play the “I’m great! Everything is chipper!” game when all I want to do is collapse in a heap and sob. Even with my closest friends I feel like I don’t have any right to tell them “I’m having a hard time lately. But thank you for asking.” I try to talk to Xtian about all this, but he has no idea what to do or say, and it just upsets him. So, instead the Internet gets all my mental garbage. Enjoy.