Life was supposed to be easier or at least that’s what I thought some 100 pounds ago. I remember as if it was yesterday when I started actively losing weight and getting in shape. Granted, I’m still not what I would call “in shape” but I’m fit and don’t have any aspirations of body building. Also it might take a lot more time for my skin to grow back if it ever does.
One thing I do know, easier it is not!
Pick any day in the period of roughly June to December of 2013 and you’d find me in the gym of my apartment building in Oakland. I would be there, working away on the elliptical for at least an hour a day. Every decent looking girl walking by would remind me why I was there.
While I would love to tell you how I have at least 5 other reasons to get in shape, let’s be honest for a second. The only reason I needed was love. And I would tell myself, how can you expect someone else to love you if you don’t even love yourself?
But the thiner I got the harder it became. Why? Because I started to work on myself. I started to figure out that I’m more screwed up than originally thought. It’s not that I don’t love myself. Sometimes I might even love myself too much. Like the times when I hear myself talking and think “how amazing am I”. Or when I build something and get so excited about the stroke of genius thinking everyone will be in complete and utter awe of it, just as I am.
So if it’s not self-love, believe me I love myself plenty, what else could it be? One common theme I touch on a lot with my psychiatrist is “connection”. And how I feel I can’t connect with other people. At first I thought I’m just to self-centered and not interested in the lives of other people. But that can’t be it as I do have buddy’s at work and I’m very interested in their lives.
Disinterest is not the issue either. Maybe it’s me not letting anybody else in? Ever since I was little I always felt like I was alone in this world. People I loved left, people I trusted used that to hurt me. Being called “bomb” might be considered a compliment in some situations, it wasn’t when they said it to me. Other words come to mind like “fat pig”. Thinking about these times in my life feels like opening a flood gate I had closed and forgotten about a long time ago.
This is not supposed to be a pity-piece, everyone has their own package to carry but I’m finally ready to open up the bags and find out what I carry around with me.
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