DEAR DIARY,
It’s been a while. I think the last time you and I talked, I was about 18 years old. I’m so sorry for not speaking to you for so long, but hormones hit and life all of the sudden got really complicated (but we’ll get to that later). Now, here we are, eons later, and I find myself needing to have someone to confide in, once more. You were always may non-judgmental rock. It felt so good to pour my heart out to you and not have to hear the phrase “well, you know what I would do, if I were you.” GOD! That pisses me off! I always feel like screaming, “Well your not me and you have no idea what I’m feeling right now, so shove your advice straight up your ass!” You, Dear Diary, don’t give me advice. You just listen, and for that I’m eternally grateful.
Oh! Bye the way… what do you think of your new digital make over?! It took some doing to get you all dolled up like this, but it was worth it. What? What was that? Oh, yeah, I know that lots of people can read what we talk about, but that’s ok. What I need to talk to you about, is something that lots and lots of other people struggle with. Not everybody has as good a friend as you. So, I thought we could share what we talk about so they could benefit from your stoic, nonjudgemental and response-less wisdom, too.
Anyway… before I go any further, it’s important for me to let you know that my life (right now) is the best its ever been. I have an awesome family that loves me. I am successful in my career and finally making the money I deserve. The love in my life is pure and supportive. For all intents and purposes, I couldn’t ask for a better place to be in.
The ONLY part of my life that is an issue, is my weight. I feel, if I don’t do something about this one negative thing, it could undo all of the good I have finally been able to create. You see, being as heavy as I am, makes me so unhappy, that I go to dark and miserable places inside of myself. Sometimes, I think about ending it all or leaving it all behind and disappearing because I can be such an unbearable asshole when I get into those places. I don’t want the people I love to suffer through it with me.
Yes…I know you won’t say it, Dear Diary, so I will…that’s ridiculous. They love me regardless. You’re the one that has the problem. Not them. But, Dear Diary, it still hurts me to think about how I let my weight have that control of my soul. It scares me too.
You know, I hear it all the time when I try to talk about it with others, ”Well, you know what I would do if I was you, I’d just suck it up and deal with it. Just lose weight and you won’t feel that way…” No shit world! You don’t think I fucking thought of that. That pisses me off too!
Trust me! I’ve tried many times to get a handle on it. I make progress and start to feel like things are goin my way, then it all comes crashing down around me. I feel like I’m the Greek King Sisyphus, who was punished by the gods for being a dick. He was forced to roll a boulder up to the top of a mountain, only for it to roll back down, causing him to have to start over again. The shitty thing is… I’m not a dick. I am a good person. I’m caring, kind, loving and have a heart bigger than the boulder that asshole pushed up his eternal hill. So, why do I feel like I’m being punished to this mythological proportion? Am I a good person after-all? Is there something I have done in my life or some trauma I have experienced that is causing me to constantly revisit this place of starting over? What lesson am I supposed to learn from all of this?
So, Dear Diary, I brought you out of retirement because I just can’t do it anymore. I just can’t suffer through everyday being unhappy with myself. The weight I have gained since we last talked is frankly disgusting and not healthy at all. It has also caused me to wait on making my best possible life and doing the things I have always wanted to do, like travel. Planes, right now, are my biggest nemesis. But we’ll get to that.
Look, you know I was always a slightly chubby kid (at least up until puberty and the hormones fixed that) but this goes beyond normal fluctuational overweight kind of stuff. I am what the medical community deems “Morbidly Obese.”
What the fuck?! What a terrible way to refer to someone. Certainly doesn’t help my self-esteem quotient. Do they think that by calling me something as fucked up as that, that it will inspire me to change. I kind of feel like the complete opposite has happened. It’s like I am gaining the weight out of spite and contempt for that monicker! They tell me to lose weight and shove pamphlets in my face then send me on my merry way. Then they only offer judgment when I come in for my next appointment and have only moved the scale by a paltry couple of pounds.
Hey, Doc! I did what you told me to do! I ate like I was told! Food pyramid perfect, with my calories in range with moderate exercise! I did what you asked and it just wasn’t moving the needle! It was difficult and frustrating, and just feels like a generalized approach to a more serious problem. It doesn’t make sense, Doc. It can’t just boil down to calories in, calories out. There has to be more to this whole thing. Wait…what? You are not clinically trained in nutrition and can only speak to it in generalities? (Smacks forehead with palm.)
Well, I guess that’s why we’re here. Isn’t it? It’s time to take my full and true happiness off pause and get this journey underway. Take things into my own hands. It’s time to find out for myself how things need to be done for me. To get to the bottom of what really causes me to gain weight and prevents it from leaving my aching frame.
I’m glad you’re here to go through it with me, Dear Diary. With your help, I may just get that boulder up and over the hill this time around!
Until next time,