I spend too much time thinking, and I admit that. I can sit for hours and just ponder the yonder and the way things were and how I’d like them to be – but that usually just gets me thinking about why I’m thinking about the things I’m thinking about. It’s actually counterproductive, and I try to pass it off as philosophical babble. Truth be told, I’m just procrastinating doing things that I really should be doing like changing the sheets on the bed, proofreading my latest article on Roses or doing some exercise.
All of this “need to do” items are just kind of floating in a fantastic pile in front of me as I glaze over in a path of self destruction. I blame the whole #ThrowbackThursday business, I blame that evil social media, I blame culture, I blame everybody but me. Of course, that’s just kind of who I am, not taking blame for anything, pointing my finger at everybody else, taking no responsibility for my actions. Why I’m like this, I’m not sure, but where I am now is pretty dark – but only temporarily.
Research is a stupid thing, especially when I’m writing about something that I’m supposed to be an “expert about”. Search engines lead you down some freaky paths, and who would have thought looking up the proper spelling for a stupid disease carrying mite would send me on a sentimental journey of self reflection, loathing, and straight to the cereal cabinet. The title slapped me in the face then the image haunted me:
It wasn’t when I was 15 that I started, but it wasn’t too much longer after that – around the age of 19 actually. This isn’t really much of a secret to anybody really close to me, but the reason as to why it came along is. I’ll keep that to myself (it’s described in my book), and just say that it manifested itself into some ugly fucking forms. Not all my doing (again, not my fault) but finding out how to perfect an imperfect thought pattern.
The picture and caption haunted me for several reasons, most notable because yes, it is “Throwback Thursday” and yes, I can look back a few years ago and see an entirely different person. If I were to post pictures of my own personal “throwback” you’d probably puke. No, you’d probably starve yourself then puke.
No wait, that’s what I did. Scratch that. You’re probably a well adjusted adult (or whomever you are).
I destroyed the images of being incredibly sick, those haunting pictures of a skeleton of a person with no lines, only sagging skin where my curves used to be. A hollowed out carcass of a person with no depth, no life, and no hope. To “throwback” to my former self would be to throw me back into a very ugly place, a place I didn’t want to be and tried my hardest to make it worse. I can’t place the blame on anybody but myself for that one. I was weak minded and was under a strong influence of a manipulative person. I throwback to 2009, I get a little depressed.
But enough of that throwback nonsense. You’ll get no pictures of me while I was super sick, I’ll just share pictures of me being super happy. Those pictures are forever gone, but for those that were in my life at the time, they will haunt those people forever. I apologize to these people and for once turn the finger and point to myself and take the blame.
I’m sorry to my loved ones for what I have put you all through, the worry, the concern, the fear of me dying. It wasn’t until very recently a few people opened up to me after posting my “brave” article This Is The Face. There are more people out there like me than I care to think about, and the only way that I can try to make a difference is to move forward and not judge.
Please, help me start a body acceptance revolution. Be yourself, it’s the only person you’re supposed to be. I promise you that person isn’t supposed to hate.
Here is a great resource of information on how to move on with life and help those around you to stay strong. You don’t know who’s suffering around you, all you can do is help everybody and hope one of them is positively influenced by your love.