t minus twenty
Gosh. Writing is hard and there is little to no reward outside of intrinsic value. That sucks.
I felt better today. I wonder if it is because I let myself feel upset last night. Could therapy actually work? Go figure.I don’t know if that light sarcasm qualifies as self-effacing. I’m going to let myself have it this time though.
Just this once.
I have been trying to honor my fullness signals. I’m trying not to roll my eyes as I type that. It is tough for me to take my disordered eating patterns seriously, but improving my body image is very important to me. I have been fixated on trying to rebel against judgement from others by eating things that I wasn’t previously allowed to eat.
This was great and fun for a long time, but now I mostly deal with stomach aches. I have been judged for my weight gain and it made me resentful and feel like I had something to prove. However, now, eating more than I want to prove a point feels self-destructive.
I felt embarrassed about talking about all of this in therapy, but now feel relieved that I did. I was reminded that I can be patient with myself. That’s a tough one for me even though I tend to demonstrate an often excessive degree of patience with others. Life is full of contradictions, I suppose.
Right now, I am very full because I returned to the kitchen after dinner to eat more. I was anxious about having to trust myself. My anxiety spiked. I ate some more and then worried that I would give myself another stomach ache. However, I decided to finish what I wanted and come back upstairs. I feel more full than I would like, but it is manageable now. My anxiety is spiking again as I write this though.
Learning to trust myself is hard work. So is writing this. I feel quite vulnerable. It is hard not to judge myself for (1) using a word like vulnerability - barf; (2) vulnerability itself; (3) admitting how hard vulnerability is for me. I suppose it is hard for everyone and that’s what unites us and blah, blah, blah. I just can’t stand those vulnerability spiels. Spare me!
Eek. Is that me avoiding it again? Not a rhetorical question. I genuinely cannot tell.
I wonder if I would read my own blog. Would I find any of this interesting if I read it in someone else’s voice? I’m not sure. I guess I shouldn’t judge myself so negatively. I’m learning how to write a blog. It’s self-education. The more mistakes the better, right?
Gosh. Learning from mistakes sounds a lot more interesting than it is in actuality. Mistakes suck. Judging myself for mistakes sucks too.
I feel curious about the world today. I don’t know how long it will last. I suppose that fearing that I will not feel curious soon is the fastest way to kill my own curiosity. Like, let a girl live, you know? I tend to jump to analyzing every thought in my head and every word I type like it is the scripture on Moses’ tablets.
I always think I’ll have so much to say and then I shrivel up once I sit here to write. I’m scared that I don’t know how to execute any of my ideas and that my self-judgement is right. I suppose I have to let it happen anyway. Trying sucks.
I’m tempted to check my phone to see if the twenty minutes are up. (Spoiler alert: it isn’t!) I’m trying to live in the moment, but you guessed it… Living in the moment sucks. Declaring that everything sucks also sucks. I’m trying to hold back on my hyper-self-aware statements about how I’m probably coming across right about now because I have no clue how I’m actually coming across right about now to a hypothetical reader I nicknamed Wishbone.
I guess that means that I’m not coming across any which way at all. I guess that means that whatever I feel writing this is what exists. No other reactions exist. Gosh. That doesn’t suck at all.