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October 7, 2003
The Precipice
I'm hovering on the edge of a decision, and can feel myself about to fall over a precipice that will change my life forever. I'm scared and I feel like a failure.
I've tried for nearly 30 years to lose weight. I've failed. I've only managed to get bigger and bigger despite what seemed to be my best efforts. Why? I'm not sure, really. Childhood trauma? I just love food? Insecurity? Fat is a security blanket? All of the above? Probably.
I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting myself every minute of every day. I'm tired of beating myself up over repeated failures. I'm tired of hearing my mental tape recorder repeating over and over what a waste of humanity I am. I'm tired of being constantly belittled and put down...and most of it being done by my own thoughts.
I want to do things. I want to go places. I want to be proud of myself and my accomplishments instead of just wondering if everything I've done right is a fluke or if whatever praise I get is just pity praise.
I want to believe in myself.
I can't believe in myself.
I'm lucky if I can find five minutes in the day when I don't actively HATE myself, much less believe in myself. And I don't even really know what I did to make myself earn my own enmity. All that I know is that I say things to and about myself that I would immediately smack someone for saying about anyone else I cared about.
Will getting my insides moved around help with this? I don't know. I'll always have to live with the knowledge that I was too weak and pathetic to do it on my own, that I had to have an operation to achieve what other people seem to manage all of the time. You see it all over the place, success stories about people who have lost hundreds of pounds, people who say "I just decided one day that I had to do it...and I did!". I've decided a hundred times that I just have to do it, but still I fail over and over. What reserves of willpower, or whatever you want to call it, do they have that I don't? Why don't I?
My Inner Child wants to whine and scream and kick and yell about how it's not fair, but I'm an adult. I know that life isn't fair. But shouldn't it be? Just once in a while? Is having an operation to lose weight a way of evening out the playing field? Or is it a way of saying that I can't do it any other way because I'm too much of a sad excuse for a person? People have real problems and overcome them all of the time. I eat too much...and I can't seem to stop.
Oink oink... that's what I think about myself most of the time. Pig, cow, porker...undisciplined, fat, ugly, pathetic, hopeless...
Why bother? I'll probably just get this wrong too. Eat too much and stretch my stomach back out, then balloon out to 500 pounds this time.
I'm grasping at straws to keep from sliding into the abyss, and the straws are beginning to weaken.
To operate or not to operate, that is the question.
*sigh*
Did I mention that I'm tired?
Posted by Lys on October 7, 2003 10:30 AM
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