My brother came to visit today, he was kind enough to bring us two gorgeous dressers that he got from his father’s house as he was cleaning it out. Once I got the dressers upstairs I thought it only smart to not put the clothes in it that don’t fit me anymore….
That was a bad move. memories flooded back as I pulled each item out of my drawer. The 5K I ran in November 2013, best time I had was around 33 minutes. The classes I used to go to, and enjoyed. The things I could do without being winded. And instead of giving me motivation to do it again it made me feel worse about myself.
I was already having a bad day, for some unknown reason I had the compulsion for self harm, I wanted to feel the pain, so badly it was so hard to keep from doing it. So I asked hubby to talk to me, so that I could stop rationalizing, and well just being in close proximity to him would keep me from doing it. Then he had to leave for work…. the compulsion got stronger, so I had to figure out what to do. My bathrooms were a wreck so I decided to clean them both. If you have never seen someone compulsively clean- at least for me- is a frantic can’t do it fast enough clean like your life depends on it clean. I probably looked like a crazy lady. But I got both bathrooms clean, and then because of contamination I took my 2nd shower of the day. And by the time I got out my brother was here, so I couldn’t scratch.
That’s not to say I wasn’t thinking about it. I was- all day. Thinking about how much I wanted to run my nails, or my keys up and down my arms making my arms sting with pain. So instead I just ate all day. Nothing I ate filled me up, because the emptiness I was feeling wasn’t for food, and I knew that, but I didn’t care I still tried. Which of course made me feel worse, because I knew it would make the scale go up.
Back to the clothes. I also decided to empty my closet of the clothes that don’t fit too. Here are the results
Four full trash bags of the old me. The skinny me. The still unhappy me, but still the old me. The old me that was closer to happy because she wasn’t so lumpy and bumpy. People didn’t look at her like she was invisible. She was fit, she could run, she was a spinning class junkie, loved kickboxing, she was unstoppable. Until she wasn’t anymore.
I remember ordering this dress. It was a size large (that ran small), and it was too small when I got it, but then by the time my sister in law’s baby shower came around it fit perfectly. I looked great in it. I don’t think I could fit one arm into it now. It went into one of the trash bags.
I remember posting this on facebook. I was so proud of myself. I posted it on September 2nd 2013. Exactly 8 months after I started my journey… here’s what I said-
What a difference 8 months makes, 84.4 pounds lost, 28.75 inches lost, (4 inches this month), Picture on the left I was wearing a size 20 pants and 3X shirt pic on the right taken today I am wearing a size small shirt and size 4 pants. Only 15.6 pounds to goal.
I don’t have any pictures of me currently but it’s safe to say I am within a few pounds of where I was in the first picture. Which one is the real me? Am I supposed to be fat? Am I supposed to be thin? Am I both at the same time? I just don’t know. All I know is that I am so unhappy with the way I look, I am unhappy with the way most of my life is. I can’t think of much at all that makes me happy at all. There’s no activity, no food, no book, nothing online, nothing on TV. I am completely unhappy.
I know the weight it only a part of it, but it’s heavily on my mind today because of my clothing clean out. Knowing I can’t get a pair of size 16 pants on, knowing that I have to go out and get new clothes depresses me even more.
I want to scratch. I want to hurt myself. But instead I am going to go eat a big bowl of icecream because that’ll surely help the situation, right? *insert eyeroll*