the why...

I know why, on a physical level, why I'm fat. I eat too much. I eat too much carbs, not enough veggies. I don't drink water. I don't exercise. I'm a lousy eater with no physical movements.

But I think there's more to that story.

I get very nervous when I think about blogging about this, but I think it's something that should be said. It's about being honest and I need to face this in connection to my over-eating.

I was sexually abused as a child.

...

Yeah, that's a hard sentence to write.

Now, I have come out with this to my parents and family and spouse. They know. They knew when I was twelve and told, finally. We have dealt with it as a family.

But I haven't dealt with it enough, it seems. I don't see how an emotionally stable person can gain 150 lbs in 3 years. I don't see how that is "okay" or "normal" or even acceptable.

I don't know how this affects me on an everyday level. I do know when I go home and see him (he's a cousin) at a family gathering, I feel sick. I don't talk to him. I ignore him. And he is never invited to my parent's house, at all. But I only go home maybe two or three times a year.

My eating habits are a mess, I do know that. I don't think I'm an emotional eater. I don't see food as my "friend" who comforts me. It's a fuel. But I do eat out of boredom. That mindless eating thing. I do that, when I'm watching a movie or reading. I don't really have triggers but I do eat food like sweets and chocolates when I'm on my rag. I get cravings really bad around then.

I don't know. I'm thinking of seeing a councilor lately. To help me see the connection between the abuse and my current weight problems, IF there are any.

I think that I worked so hard at not showing this as a weakness in my relationships that I placed this darkness somewhere else. But even that seems vague and far-fetched.

So that's where I am right now. Trying to be more honest with myself, no matter how scary my truths.

still ill

Man, oh man.

Yesterday was insanely bad. Today, I'm not even gonna talk to anyone. Why? Because I think I may just lose my voice. No talkie. Only writey.

This means takeout. This means babying. This means cough medicine and ginger tea and sweating it out.

chesty cough

I'm ill. No jokes. And it bites. Bites the big one.

This means I'm actually going to go to bed at a normal hour. Rub some vick's on my chest. Take some cough medicine. And just die.

I hate being sick.

I'm actually drinking water too, as my body is craving liquids. Water is delicious. Amazing. I now love and savour my water.

We'll see how long this lasts.

the steps just about won

I thought this was funny. I went to Wreck Beach yesterday for the first time and I managed to climb back up the 400 steps.

It hurts, I'm not going to lie.

ETA:

So Wreck Beach. It's about 400 steps, from what I was told, and I can tell you this: those stairs are evil. No lie. Evil. I rested so I wouldn't pass out and watched these people just cruise by me. They were BOUNDING, like gazelle, up the steps. I felt like tripping them. Like pushing them down and cackling with glee as the bounded... bounced down the steps.

Maybe I'm the evil one.

hey you, i remember you

I'm not exactly back and on track or anything like that, but neither am I gone. I'm going through some mmmmaajjaaah emotional problems with my fiance. It's wreaking havoc on me and my weight and it's just another excuse that I'm using to eat whatever the fuck I want. I recognize that but I'm not ready to change that just yet.

In other news, good or bad, I've gotta keep writing. Keep being honest. I think that's what I need. It's a huge step for me. To say that I am FAT and it is ALL MY FAULT, if one must assign blame. This is key. ONLY I CAN CHANGE THIS. I am responsible for my body and what I put into it and how much I exercise it.

Wowza.

Lay the smack down, girl.

While this is not yet a turn or a corner or a step forward, it is an awakening. My awakening.

I am responsible for me.

I am responsible for this body.

I am responsible for the situation my body is in.

I am.