"Tomorrow is my 24th birthday. If anyone has had a worse case of the blahs, I'd like to know. I don't think my blah's have anything to do with my birthday. Actually, my birthday is something I have been looking forward to. I think my blah's are something I have been trying to fight off. My blah's are trying very hard to dive into a depression. I seem to only be able to maintain "happy" for a handful of weeks at a time before returning to this serious case of the blues. Even though I feel like I have taken some baby steps to improve my life I have this nagging critic inside telling me it's not enough. I have a hard time understanding why I can't just be happy, but I don't think depression listens to reason.
My body image is a big part of my unhappiness. I hate my body. I mean, I HATE it. I feel myself slipping back into the disgusted mind set. I don't want to look at myself naked and I certainly don't want Jeremy seeing me naked. I hate the way all my clothes fit me.
When did this happen to me?
When did I become this disgusting fat frump?
I am 24. I should be able to wear all those cute styles and cute shoes and look and feel sexy. You would think my self-loathing would be enough to drive me to do something about my body, but no. I can't even work up the drive or self-restraint it takes to diet and exercise. So I'm fat and lazy and pathetic and disgusting. I wish I didn't feel this way. I wish I could be easier on myself, but I can't keep candy coating it.
I am fat and I keep getting fatter.
I don't want to be the fat girl. I want clothes to fit me. I don't want to see my fat rolls all the time. I want to be able to walk with my head up, but right now I am just too ashamed of how I have let myself go."
I found this in a journal stuffed inside my nightstand drawer. Did you cringe reading it? Because I did. A lot of self-hate going on. It took two more years before I was ready to actually do something, really do something about how I felt about my body. And it took me three more years of slowly changing my lifestyle, of gaining ground only ounces at a time, to finally reach my goal weight. Seven years, seven whole years. I wish I could go back and tell myself how much happier I was going to be once I got to the other side of this journey. Maybe it would have happened sooner if I could.
But it makes me think about all the other people out there that are struggling with their self-image. Maybe they are, at this very moment, in the same place I was when I wrote that journal entry. So, I can't go back and tell myself anything but I can tell you...this is not the end of your story. There are many, many more chapters. Its ok if it takes you some time to get through THIS chapter, just know..that you WILL get through it. Can't wait to see you on the other side of YOUR journey..no matter how long it takes you to get there.