So I started talking to kires about baby stuff, which deserves and will get its own post. And then I slid into body stuff. Weight stuff, to be exact. Body image stuff.
Stuff that I will do anything to avoid calling eating-disorder stuff, it seems.
When I was in middle school, I didn't eat lunch. I rarely ate breakfast, didn't eat much dinner. I wasn't a classic anorexic, because I never thought I was fat. I was just going through a lot of traumatic stuff that was completely beyond my control. And the only thing that it seemed I could control was my food intake. So I did.
This changed. I've had body image issues since, but nothing having to do with eating or not-eating. Believe me when I say that this is not stuff that has troubled me; this is stuff that was classified under "control issues" and mostly forgotten.
I gained weight when I had Miss Kid, but not too much. Still okay with my weight. Then I gained weight when I moved to Atlanta, and I wasn't so happy with that - too much! I didn't feel like me. Major depression. I felt very out of control.
Then I got put on Lamictal, and I dropped 30 pounds in three months, and kept dropping, for a total of 45 pounds over the past almost-two years.
My entire body has gone haywire. I am in control of absolutely nothing.
I could be in control of the one thing that I was in control of when I was 12, 13.
I can lose more weight.
This is the battle I have every day now.
I look at myself and I KNOW that my body is not healthy at this weight. But I see the little roll of a belly and think "If I skip lunches this week..."
"If you skip lunches this week, you'll be what, 87?"
"But I won't have any fat anymore."
"You're supposed to have fat."
"I can make it go away."
"But I can, and there's so little that I CAN DO..."
I eat my three meals a day, and dessert whenever I'm not too nauseous. docorion sends chocolates, and I eat them. And I don't have this battle every day, but when I do, it's horrible. When I do, I panic, I want to cry, I'm desperate to not have to choke down that burger - every bite an act of unwilling surrender, another wave of nausea.
I have not succumbed to this. I am a tough chick.
It's hard. I have to hold these two things in my head at the same time all day every day. The knowledge that I am unhealthily thin - and the image in the mirror that tells me that I have that fat still on me. The voice that tells me that my body is crashing, and the voice that tells me that a few more pounds won't make a damn bit of difference.
It. Is. Hard.
And there you have it. I am done writing about it for now.