I have been battling depression a lot lately. Mostly in silence. My blog has been ignored as my life whizzes by at a breakneck speed. I fill every waking hour with something to do trying to maintain some sort of purpose. I take on an ungodly amount of projects yet feel completely lost in them, like I wading in to too deep water and then getting pulled even further out by the riptide. The shore slips further from my view as I frantically swim harder towards it.
I work and work and work. I learned that from my dad. He was always working and had no time for us. My mom too, was a workaholic creating two latch-key kids. It was a free life without much supervision. I was always involved in some after school activity while my sister stirred up trouble. (Not to say she was always stirring up trouble, but it did seem like it.) I never liked having an authority figure in my life. My parents readily gave me my reigns at an early age and never looked back. I can see that in my eldest daughter. I guess being married has always made me feel like I handed over the reigns to someone who has no idea where they are going. So in lieu of sitting up there watching us pass the same mistakes and cross the same bridges I make myself busy. I hide and prepare. For what, I don’t know. The day I get off the wagon? The day I steal back the reigns? I still don’t like to have someone feel as if they have to be “the Man” in the house. If that entails taking out the trash and fixing the cars, then, by all means, you are “the Man.” But if it means that I am below you or who I am, how I feel, or what I’ve done has less value then you most certainly are not “the Man.” And neither am I.
I have been struggling with my weight ever since I graduated from college. I am currently the biggest I have ever been with the exception of my pregnancies. (That was really hard to type.) I have been brought up to believe that this “imperfection” makes me worth less as a woman. I have been feeding my depression as if it were some raging furnace, trying to satiate something inside. It doesn’t take much for me to gain weight, either. Honestly, I have a fat gene that snickers every time I put anything even remotely unhealthy into my body. The sad part is that my goal was to have my ring be able to slip off my fat finger and then I would deserve to be free. How fucked up is that? Like being skinny would give me a pass. That in that event I would now be ready for someone to like me or that I would be worthy of my own attractions towards women because now I looked the part? Cause you know, you can’t be anything but a hot femme, right? It’s the only acceptable alternative to a perfect housewife. Ugh. I disgust myself sometimes. Why do we put ourselves into these boxes that just shut us in?
My mom once went on a tangent about how “lucky we are” because our husbands somehow found us attractive, apparently overlooking our gigantic waistlines. That was sarcasm, cause I’m not huge by any means, but man it sure felt like it when she said that. At one point when I was a vegetarian and at a size 4, I commented on my own “thinness” and she retorted that I would never be thin, but I was skinnier than I used to be. That stuck to me too. I lost my appetite to try and gained one to not care that day. I’m trying to teach myself how much I deserve to be happy at whatever size I am. I can be unhappy with how I feel in the body that I have, but I must accept and love it as a friend and not bully myself. They all say you have to love yourself, and I thought I did. What I’ve realized that I’m loving the future me way more than who I am at this moment. I keep looking at what I might look like if I lost weight, or if I was single, or if I did everything my way. The problem is that tomorrow is over there and we are and will always be living in today. So now I gotta figure out how to love myself as i stand today, fat fingers and all. I have to come to terms with what I deserve, because it’s a lot more than what I was giving to myself. I don’t want to wait the rest of my life to begin because I’m not quite ready yet. We will never be ready, we just have to be present when it happens.
So here I am, finally trying to kill the fat gene with punctuated bouts of Yoga, Zumba, and juicing. Once in a while I’ll try to run a 5k but my motivation had waned so much it recently didn’t happen. Who cares, I’ll still try to run. I want to feel good and excercise does help. I try not to bully myself in the mirror. I desperately yearn to accept how I look at the moment. It is a struggle. I reassure myself that this is a loveable body. If someone doesn’t love it, it’s on them and not on me. I hope to one day find kindness in my heart and give myself a break. I want to be healthy and will always want to feel fit, but I don’t want to hold myself back for what I am not. We all need to find love for who we are in this very moment. Life is so fleeting and today will never be here again. So when we move from it, we all must move towards healing and acceptance. Courage is beauty in its purest form.