Sometimes when you suffer from something, even if it’s something that you don’t understand, you find yourself in pretty ugly states of mind. People that suffer with addictions, heartbreak, esteem problems, just about anything can find some days harder than other and the only thing to do is cope, try to keep your chin up and cope. All things are temporary, all things are shifting, in the grand spectrum of the world all things are just grains of sand on the beach. Why, please explain, do somethings feel like boulders as opposed to the tiny grains they really are? Is it an illusion, is it imaginations, is it reality?
The truth of the matter is that I’m having a bad week, again. There isn’t an apparent reason, except for the fact that I’m extremely uncomfortable with my current state of body. I’m just stuck in this cycle, it hurts, but I have this notion that everything is going to get better, everything is already better, just by admitting that I’m having a tough time. I struggle sometimes, for no apparent reason, but then again, we all have our own internal struggles that perhaps we don’t understand. Why am I this way, why do I do that one thing that I don’t want to do, why am I such a failure (it seems) at life.
It’s a confusing rabbit hole to fall down, especially for those of us with a deeper realm of reality. I can’t just look over and say, “oh hey look, there is a pizza there, I might have a slice”, for me it’s a ridiculously alluring temptation – like a drug – that floods my brain with ridiculous juices of urges, desires and hate. I love the things that I hate, and I hate the things that I love. Beer, french fries, ice cream, you name it, I love all of those things because they make me feel better, at the same time I hate them because they make me feel worse. I sit here right now and am hating myself because my pants are tight. I can’t focus on anything but the waistline embedding itself into by gut. Fucking gut, fucking beer belly, why can’t I have a bikini body, why oh why?
At the same time, I can look down and see a happy girl that is finally doing what she really wants with life. Instead of being pushed around to live under other peoples thumb and ideals, she’s pushing forward and being who she really wants to be. It’s uncomfortable to identify this person with myself, but I suppose “she” is really “me”, and “I” am really “her”. With this mentality, however, a confusing identity crisis ensues. The “she” is the person that wants to be happy, love unconditionally, and be love, the “me” is the person that feels bitter and afraid of being judged and hurt. The “I” is really the girl that hates every single bit of her body, especially her gut, but the “her” is the one that enjoys having a good time and laughing at silly things. In a constant tug-of-war with yourself it’s almost understandable that the brain wants to seek some sort of respite, comfort, peace, someplace, even if that place causes one half of the entity to be miserable.
Take for instance my enjoyment of Old Chub Scotch Ale, I used to enjoy it to the max. I’d be able to have one, enjoy the complexity of taste and bubbles and be happy. Now all I see is calories and the fact that it gives me a beer belly. Of course everybody says, “well, just have one”. It’s difficult though, when you find something that makes you feel better you don’t want the good feeling to stop. It’s a conundrum, and nine times out of ten the good feeling takes over and you’re left with the regret afterwards. Kind of like a really bad relationship that you choose to stay in because you like companionship, you just don’t like the particular company, but you decide to stay in it because you’re afraid to be alone.
I’m looking at my day, and venting here to try to help me understand things better, knowing that my brain wants to feel better. My brain wants to let the eating disorder come in and make me feel better.
As for me, I think I’d rather suffer. I’m scared going into this day, but just like any other thing, it’s just temporary. Tomorrow will come soon.