I'm a disaster. Let me explain. (Although that opening sentence is rather hilarious considering where I'm going with this. So, I'm on a tropical island. As in, one of the most beautiful places on the planet and I have still managed to judge myself daily, from appearance to how I spend my time here. It's a gift, really, this ability to degrade myself in any possible situation.
The funny thing is that I sort of pride myself on not judging others. And, as a parent, although I know I will inevitably screw up my children, I do think my number one priority is raising them to NOT be judgemental assholes. However, in my constant quest for reserving judgement of others, I forgot someone. And that someone is arguably the most important someone...me.
The weather is beautiful here. And when I say "beautiful" I feel that I've failed to do it justice. I could say "exquisite", "superb", "magnificent" and still, all words would fall short of describing the innate beauty of this island. And yet, despite my surroundings, I'm still me, stuck in my never-ending loop of self-depreciation. So....I'm anorexic. I know what you're thinking, "well that's funny, because usually people who are anorexic aren't upwards of 50 pounds over their goal weight." (Or maybe I'm just thinking that and am putting words into your mouth. I'm apparently pretty good at that.) By saying I'm anorexic, I don't mean that it manifests in a physical way, but emotionally and mentally. I judge myself on how I look, what goes in and what physical effort I put forth at a constant rate. And maybe I'm using the word wrong, but it's my blog, so I can. I doubt it will bother the 10 or so people who are actually bored enough to read my thoughts.
But I digress. You see, I was walking along this incredible beach today and had plenty of time to ponder my life (dangerous pasttime, I know). I was thinking about how amazing it is that in everything I've ever written/complained about/discussed in my blogs, they always seem to be these external issues. Warranted, sure, but the truth is that my inner struggle existed much earlier than anything external that I can remember. And if we're talking honesty, this is as honest as I can get.
Back to being "anorexic" (There. Do the quotation marks make you feel better about a fat person claiming to be anorexic? Yes, Sara, I know...I'm my own worst critic and was probably the only one bothered by that in the first place). Anyway, I did actually try the whole "not eating" thing in high school. And admittedly, it screwed me up in ways I didn't even see at the time. It's the reason I don't own a scale, and also the reason I avoid mirrors. I didn't realize this last part until my therapist brought it up in a session recently. I thought about her statement and was shocked at how accurate it was. How sad is that? I don't even look at myself. (And this is absolutely not a plea for platitudes about my looks. Believe me, this has nothing to do with anyone but myself.) So, here, I've had to look at myself and I realized that in my quest to avoid looking in the mirror, I've somehow gotten to be this person I don't even recognize.
I'm a person who truly does love physical activity. Weird, I know. I mean everyone feels good afterward, right? But it's the true creepos who enjoy the "during" part of pushing your body past its natural limits. And yet, I don't do that anymore. I truly feel that sometimes I can't. Whether grief, or depression, or depression brought on by grief, or survivor's guilt, whatever it is, it makes it incredibly difficult to move. So I don't. Not unless I have to, that is. I move to go to work. I move to attend my children's activities. I move for all kinds of reasons that affect the lives of other people, but I SUCK at moving for me. (See how I did that? Judged myself for judging myself?? I'm telling you guys, if this were and Olympic sport, I'd nail it.)
So out here on this island, I just move. I can, so I do. Now why can I? Because I typically have enough energy to do only a few things each day. And those are the good days. Out here, I have no other obligations. Nothing to MAKE me move, except for me. So I move for me. It's an incredible feeling to be spending an entire day/week doing things to take care of yourself. I feel like mothers in general are particularly bad at this. But, I'm not naive enough to believe that this is real life. I know that when I return to my family (whom I love more than life), that I will use up what little life power I've got left each day on just surviving. I spend so much of my energy on grief, ptsd, and judging myself for doing that, that I'm left exhausted at the end of each day, when some days all I've physically done is moved my arm three inches to the right.
The isolation on this island is magnificent. I'm free to walk around in a bathing suit all day and not give it a second thought when it comes to wondering if others are judging me. That was, until today. I jumped into the ocean today to cool off and then, as always, as I made my way back to my lounge chair to lie in the sun, I made a mental note of how awful my shadow looked. Because that's helpful. I dismissed it quickly, because again, no one is around and also because constantly evaluating your body is exhausting. However, I opened my eyes for a second to make sure I was fully facing the sun, and I saw a crab standing right in front of me. She just stopped there, staring at me. I assume she was staring, because honestly it's hard to know where their eyes are. And I assume she was female because, you know, we're best at judging our own...
Anyway, I could tell she was judging me. She knew I looked horrible in that bathing suit, and she was judging the fact that I'd been smug enough to assume that no one else was being affected by such a hideous creature, simply because no other humans were around. I also believe she was judging the few times in my life that I've attempted a "crab walk." Because as she sauntered effortlessly, from side to side, I noticed her backward glance at the large lady in the lounge chair, right before she added a bit of a graceful glide to her movements. She did this, as if to say, "not only are you overweight and out of shape, but you have also never correctly walked like a crab. And it's insulting." And with that, she scurried along the shoreline until the waves overtook her little body (skinny bitch) and she buried herself in the sand. (Come to think of it, I may have more problems than made-up, fat person anorexia...)
Anyway, all of this rambling does have something resembling a point. As I was lying there, getting tan, listening to the ocean, and getting judged by bitchy crabs, I was also thinking about how useless it is to continue putting myself down in this way. Has it ever served me? Has it ever motivated me to do more? Has it ever done anything but cut down an already fragile self-esteem? And the answer, of course, is no. So, I'm tired of diets. I'm tired of specific exercise regimens with a specific "goal date" in mind. I've decided that instead of trying to lose pounds of weight, I'm going to try to lose pounds of self-judgement (a word? Maybe not, but again, my blog). And since I've made this incredible discovery for myself and made up words to prove my point, I'm officially awarding myself with 50 pounds worth of self-judgement lost. I'm feeling lighter already.
And while this is clearly a much more healthy way to think, I know that I will have days where this whole concept is more than I can handle and I'll revert back to my old habits. But even those days are going to have the possibility of "pounds" lost, because the acknowledgement that I'm human, and allowed my ups and downs, is a pretty important step too. Don't get me wrong, I'm still gonna screw this up, because I've said, and the bitchy crab also pointed out...I am a giant disaster. :)
