This week has been really hard, but something wonderful has come out of it.
Let’s just say that I reached a dead end again, combined with PMS or whatever it is…The week before, without doing anything, my weight dropped quite a bit and I saw a number on the scale that had evaded me for months. Of course, my sense of self-worth immediately grew and I was happy and confident. Always, always, moving towards my ideals fills me with this great hope and happiness. Maybe, a voice inside me seems to whisper, I can reach my ideal and then finally love myself and be at peace. It is fake happiness, but I fall for it every time. Naturally, it was just a fluctuation and the weight would go up again, but I had a mad hope that it wouldn’t. My body usually loses weight and then gains again during the natural cycle. My mood also usually drops a few days after the weight, which still comes with impulses to overeat. So I ate more and felt a little sad during the weekend. I had taken Monday off work but couldn’t enjoy the day because I felt depressed. Again, I ate more, but of course it doesn’t help at all. That’s the mean thing about it: overeating used to comfort me and numb my emotions, but it doesn’t work anymore. I still get the impulse (it’s a mechanism that is very deeply rooted) and eat, but get full very soon and then feel icky for hours, if not days. The only thing that comforts me now when I feel so bad is hugging Tom. I crave it in those moments like I used to crave food before, but it makes me feel weak and dependent, so I try to deny it.
I was very glad to have Tom there with me, though. I slept badly and when the alarm sounded on Tuesday morning, a wave of despair swept over me. I felt as if I couldn’t face life and go to work, like in earlier times, when it used to happen all the time. But then I had thought that I was finally over this and hadn’t stayed home for months… I clung to Tom desperately and fought with myself: should I tell him? What would he think about my weakness? Should I lie to him and say I was ill? I had sworn never to lie to him… And what would I tell the doctor? Tom sensed that I was unhappy and held me and stroked my hair in the dark. Then he said, ‚Is it so bad? Would you like to report sick?’ He just seemed to read my mind. This is the significant moment of the whole affair. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and love. Here was a man who not only understood me without words, but was on my side and didn’t seem to judge me for my ‚weakness’.
In the end, I reported sick because not only was I really depressed and tired, but I also felt quite ill. Tom and I tried to sleep a little longer, but we couldn’t, so we got up and had breakfast. Tom went to work and I slept for an hour, then went to the doctor’s, then again ate too much and tried to distract myself with reading and watching videos and a film. That day, I not only felt sad, but also weirdly impulsive and passionate. Tom and I spent a nice evening together and I held him very close and told him that I loved him. I must have told him every day this week, and I only say it when I really mean it in that moment. I really, really love him. No more doubts. He isn’t perfect and there are some things I that I wish were different, but he’s Tom, he’s my beloved, unique, special Tom. In some ways, he is almost too good to be true; he loves me in spite of my self-loathing, flabby skin, fatness and regular fits of despair. In moments when I can see nothing even remotely positive in myself, he is there and says he loves me, and shows it, too. Realising all this has brought me another big step nearer to Tom.
The next day was spent working and deeply hating myself and feeling envious of every other person who wasn’t fat and weak and stupid. I had to go to ballet class, which helped somewhat. Before class, however, I felt like I just had to visit Tom in his charming attic at his department. He was very affectionate and said he was glad to see me and gave me the strength to go to class. Yesterday, it was a little better and I had an appointment with Mrs. H. She said I shouldn’t wait to work on self-acceptance until I was down in the dumps. However, when I’m not suffering too much, I tend to push things aside and not address them because they are hard. I now notice when I chase ideals, sometimes sooner, sometimes later, and I know that these are dead ends and usually give them up. ‚Okay,’ I think, ‚I need to accept myself as I am’… and then I distract myself or leave it because I don’t know HOW. How can I see my worth when I think everything about me is bad? All my ‚objective’ accomplishments, degrees, praise from others seem empty to me in those moments. I convince myself that it was all just luck, coincidence, or that it doesn’t ‚count’.