“It’s always darkest before the dawn…”

The above is from “Shake It Out” by Florence and the Machine, although it’s an idiom that has been around for a very long time, well before Florence.

My anxiety has been slowly getting better, but it’s an up and down process. Most mornings I no longer wake up with a sense of dread, but these days it seems that my anxiety has been replaced with sadness or, some days, numbness.

All I want, at this point in my life, is a baby. I have baby fever, constantly, because I am terrified that I will never have one. All of my romantic pursuits thus far have either fizzled or imploded in spectacular fashion and it rather dampens one’s spirit. Yes, there is still the guy that I currently have romantic feelings for, but his behaviour thus far suggests that he doesn’t have any romantic interest in me. I don’t know, since I haven’t asked him, but I’m frankly tired of having my heart broken, so the idea of pouring my heart out to yet another person who doesn’t love me back is almost as unappealing as plucking out all of my eyelashes, one by one.

I deleted my Facebook a few weeks ago. I tell most people that it’s because it’s a time-waster (which it is) but mostly it’s because I cannot stand that all of my friends are getting engaged or married or having babies. Three are pregnant as we speak, one just had a baby girl last week, six had babies last year, three got married last year, five are going to be married in 2017 and two will be married in 2018 (so far!).

I feel like I’m not a real adult. I spent most of my twenties either travelling or doing temp jobs, meaning that my resume is full of gaps. I don’t own a car, I don’t own property, I’m not in a relationship (nor have I ever been in one), I live with my parents, and the pitiful sum of money in my bank account is set aside for tuition for next year. I’m hoping to get scholarships for this next year, but if I don’t, then I will graduate with approximately $0 to my name at 29 years old.

I look at the people that I grew up with and it seems like everyone else has their lives at least somewhat together. Most are in careers by this point, not jobs. Most are married, or at least dating. Many have children. Most own their own property. All of them have lived away from home at least once, for a decent amount of time. I don’t have any of those things, not to mention that I am a) overweight and in a perpetual cycle of self-loathing because of it and b) am a disorganized mess, but every time I look at all of the stuff I have to do, I get anxious and overwhelmed.

I feel like I’ve failed. That I have slipped up somewhere along the way, and that my punishment is that I won’t be able to live a normal life, to get married, and to have kids. I thought, when I was younger, that I wanted to be a nomad and live in exotic places, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that really, all I want is the house in the suburbs (or the country, even better) with a picket fence and a big yard and four children and dogs and cats and maybe some chickens. I don’t want to be a housewife, per se, as I do very much love the career that I am pursuing, but if I had to pick between my career or children, I would pick the kids every single time.

I am afraid of the future, that I won’t get what I so desperately want. I think that’s the root of my anxiety, to be truthful, or at least it plays a huge factor: I am terrified of being alone. The thought of living on my own is appealing, but it also brings about crippling anxiety. The idea of never getting married and never having children is one that makes me cry almost every time it crosses my mind and these days, it seems like I can’t escape it.

I’m seeing my therapist on Thursday, so I’m hoping he can help me work through this, but right now the world feels really dark and lonely. Here’s to waiting for the dawn.

 

Progress Update – as of March 5, 2016

Height: 5’7″
Current Weight: 314.6 lbs
Gain: 2.0 lbs
Current BMI: 49.3
Gain: 0.3
Bust: 53 inches
Gain: 1.0 inches
Waist: 56 inches
Loss: 1.5 inches
Hips: 56 inches

I feel like I’m living on a roller coaster, emotionally and physically. I’m up in pounds, but down in measurements, apparently. Although I generally take the measurements with a grain of salt, since I can never be sure if I’m measuring in the exact same spot every single time.

I am feeling really depressed and I can’t seem to snap out of it. I think I know why, though. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Here we go…

When I was 20, I was sexually assaulted at a party by someone that I knew, someone that I thought was my friend. It wasn’t rape, but there are other things you can do to someone. I was so shocked and scared that I didn’t know what to do, so as soon as he was done I just left the party and got in my car and cried.

I never told anyone. Not for 6 whole years. I pretended like it never happened. I blamed myself. “I shouldn’t have been alone with him. I should have been more clear that I didn’t want it. I should…I should…I should…” So many excuses. I made excuses for him: he didn’t know what he was doing, he must have thought I wanted it, he was really drunk. But it was not my fault. I did nothing to make him believe that I wanted his sexual attention and being drunk is not an excuse to take advantage of someone, especially when that person is clearly trying to get away from you.

I saw him, for the first time in 6 years, last August. I had succeeded in putting it out of my brain, for the most part (although my relationships with men have always been awful, which should have been a clue) but when I saw him, it all came flooding back. I started having nightmares and crying all the time and I think now I’m realizing that most of my weirdness has to do with the fact that I’ve never properly dealt with it.

Being assaulted made my body my enemy. I was overweight before this happened, but between then and now, I have gained 100 lbs. I have never let a man touch me since then. And I grew to hate my body, which is so incredibly sad.

This whole process has made me realize why I am the way I am and how I could get to this weight. I take responsibility for where I am, physically, I know that nobody forced me to eat the way I have, but there is a reason why I did and I think that I probably cannot get into a healthy mindset permanently until I deal with underlying issues.

The moral of the story? Talk about stuff. Don’t hold things inside. Get help.

Cheers, happy losing!

 

Time’s Fun When You’re Having Flies

Happy Birthday to PFG, happy birthday to PFG, happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to PFG!

WordPress has kindly informed me that today marks two years since I started my blog. That’s both good and bad. Good because I’m still keeping up with it, it isn’t collecting dust like so many other projects in my life. Bad because, even though I’ve been doing this sort of regularly for two years, I haven’t made any actual progress.

Hands up, who here is an emotional eater? Me me me me me.

I love food. Who doesn’t? But food, to me, has always been more than just nourishment, more than just something yummy. It’s been a friend. A comfort. A soothing ointment for my wounds. Some people turn to drugs or alcohol to dull the pain of their lives, to fill the holes, to make them forget their misery; I used food. It’s easy to get, much easier for a young bullied kid to get than alcohol or drugs. It’s not suspicious. It’s not illegal. It’s much cheaper. And it’s everywhere, we are bombarded with it.

After he stops drinking, an alcoholic never has to go into a liquor store again. A ex-smoker doesn’t have to see cigarettes. A recovering drug addict can’t walk into a convenience store and buy cocaine or heroin or methamphetamines. But my drug is everywhere.

I can’t watch television without seeing advertisements for it. I can’t drive through town without seeing flashing signs trying to lure me. I can’t buy groceries without being bombarded with cookies, chips, ice cream and every sort of junk food imaginable. I’ve heard lots of people say “Just put down the fork” or equally rude things, but what they don’t understand is that food is something you can never escape from. I believe, wholeheartedly, that food addiction is a real addiction. Recovering addicts never have to smoke or drink or do drugs again. But I have to eat to stay alive, I have to go to grocery stores. I can never get away.

I ate a lot as an unhappy teenager because food never judged. It was always there, it made me happy and┬ánever betrayed me or made me feel embarrassed. I have found myself craving very bad things lately, trying to deal with depression and anxiety and I haven’t been eating as well as I should have. But I’m trying, that’s what matters.

Progress Update – as of November 29, 2015

Height: 5’7″
Current Weight: 301.2 lbs
Loss: 7.0 lbs
Current BMI: 47.2
Loss: 1.1

So, we’re down again! However, this wasn’t really my doing. I got very, very sick this week (tonsillitis!) and I didn’t eat anything but chicken noodle soup for almost 5 days. So, while it’s nice to see the loss, I know that it’s mostly just water.

Obviously, I didn’t work out while I was ill, but now that I am (mostly) better I am hoping to rectify that very soon, because I just moved again and there is an excellent recreation centre very close to my house with very reasonable monthly rates.

While my anxiety and depression is still bothering me, I have made a decision to move out of my apartment and back home with my family. I think that I’ll be able to deal with my struggles in a better way, because when I’m home I’m happy.

It makes me feel like a bit of a loser though, if I’m being honest. I only know a couple of people my age who still live with their parents. I know that it’s really not a big deal, I’m only 26 and it’s not like my mom makes my lunch and does my laundry or whatever, but it still makes me feel like I’m failing as an adult, in a way. BUT, I went to my therapy appointment last week and she tried to help me realize that just because it’s uncommon in North American culture, it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong. It works for me and my family, so it doesn’t matter that it’s a bit unconventional. My parents have an enormous house (we live in the country) so it’s not like we’re all on top of each other, and they trust me enough to let me do my own thing. I have my own money and my own car, so if I come home at 2:00 am it’s not like they’re texting me all night, demanding that I come home. I have security and freedom.

I’m also planning to go back to school in September 2016. Tuition is very expensive these days, and not having to pay rent takes a load off. I do still pay for groceries and utilities and car insurance and all of that, of course, but not paying rent saves me a few hundred dollars a month.

I am trying not to feel stupid or embarrassed about it. I’m struggling with mental illness right now and having the safety of my family is going to help me. I just wish that people didn’t stigmatize it so much, I’m afraid of what my friends will think.

Anyway, cheers, stay well!

Life is a Highway

Life is a highway, I’m gonna ride it all night long…

The above quote is a song lyric from “Life is a Highway” by Tom Cochrane. I feel like that lately, not so much that life is a highway, but that it’s a rollercoaster.

My mood is so unpredictable these days, it’s really very frustrating. Some days I feel great, I feel hopefully, I feel happy. Other days I feel hopeless, that life isn’t worth living, that the future is bleak and I all want to do is lay in bed and cry. Those days are really hard.

I’m trying. I’m trying very hard to stay positive and keep my head above water, but when it’s so unpredictable it’s hard to keep that up day to day. I tend to be a planner, so just taking it day by day is really a difficult concept for me.

We’ll see. I’m hoping that I can make it work.