body image is an interesting thing. the view i have of my body is fairly accurate, i believe. i find myself to be disgusting and hideous in every way. i have small, lopsided breasts. i have fat on my stomach. i have fat on my armpits. i have fat on my thighs. there are layers of fat on my hips. when i sit down, there are rolls that form. when i bend over or lay on my side, my fat flops to the side. i detest being touched anywhere on my body that i feel hatred towards - at this point, it's mostly everywhere. i hide all these feelings deep inside. frankly, i do not feel proud of how i look or find beauty in myself in any way.
i have lost some significant weight in my life. i once weighed near 190lbs. i then dropped down to 155, the lowest in my entire life, over a process of starvation, low carbing, and working out. i honestly couldn't tell you what helped more. the starving, i think. i was miserable in a relationship, and starving myself felt like the perfect combination of punishment and weight loss effort. it's so easy. it's still the thing i want to turn to when i get frustrated. i've been doing it almost my whole life. i remember when i first started - barely 13. i discovered the beauty of being able to control things by simply eliminating feeding myself. i finally had control over my weight, over my body, over my unhappiness. 13 is about when my bpd first started showing up, although it didn't get ugly till about 18.
now, i am trying to do things the right way. i have some stability in my life. i have a man who loves me and cares for me and wants the best for me, who truly worries when i don't eat, who gets upset when i allow my insanity to rule my judgment. i am weighing in at around 172lbs. just reading/acknowledging that is triggering for me, and i have to work hard to not let myself slip. it's terrible. i feel like a failure of a human being, one that is too disgusting to live. and although this man is wonderful and loves me truly, he has slipped and said things in anger that showed me his true feelings about my looks and my body. i cannot blame him, and yet i hate him for it as well. i think about his words quite often, and they do effect me. they hurt me. but yet, why should they? he was truthful. he said things that i am aware of. he did not lie, or tell me anything that i did not already feel.
perhaps it is difficult to know that other people feel the disgust towards you, that you feel for yourself. it's maybe one thing to feel it inside and voice it in your own head, and another to have someone else voice it to you. he is not the only person whom i have loved, that has made comments about my body. each man i have seriously loved and dated has said it to me. after a certain point, it's not someone being cruel. it's the truth. i cannot blame any of them. i truly despise this body that i have been given, that i want to destroy in every sense. i despise a lot of things about this life that i have been granted.
how strange, that i can feel life is a gift for others. how bizarre that when it comes to myself, i feel i should have never been brought into existence. my entire life has been a struggle and nothing comes easily. after a certain point, it's exhausting, and i stop wanting to do the work.
i am a difficult person to love and cherish because of many things, all of which stem from the fact that i was broken as a child. i have never quite managed to repair myself, and i probably will never achieve that. it is only within the past 2 years that i have come to terms with the fact that i am a child sexual and emotional abuse survivor. even typing that out makes me feel like i am "being dramatic", which is a remnant of these things. my everyday life consisted of yelling, being locked in closets, throwing of belongings, berating, ignoring, kidnapping, brainwashing, insults, and much more. i was not allowed to have feelings or opinions. i was not allowed to be a child in the real sense of the word. i spent much of my time alone because i was not allowed to have friends that were not approved of, and very few were. my father is an alcoholic, and much worse than that. he is a woman and child beater. he is a narcissist. i have only recently come to terms with that, as well.
i was taught to feel this way. i was taught to systematically despise myself and not care for myself, because that is what i was shown as a child. these realizations have come through therapy, and i am thankful for them, as painful as they are. although my basic needs were taken care of, and perhaps i was even truly loved at certain points, i was not cared for. i was often treated as an inconvenience, as a possession, and as a pawn. i was cast aside if i would not perform as expected, insulted if i deviated from the course. i was not shown a lick of respect throughout my entire childhood. it is very hard for me to come to terms with this, and i often want to downplay the truth because of that. i did not always have the brutal abuse of other children, but what happened to me is abuse nonetheless.
i am uncertain what i wanted to accomplish by writing these things down, but it was cathartic in any case. i need to heal from all of this and i'm trying so fucking hard. it's really overwhelming sometimes. a lot of the times. but i really owe it to myself to not hate myself anymore. i think i deserve more than that, although it's hard for me to truly feel that way. i think it's difficult for normal people to understand also. it's a huge mind fuck and i'm doing my best to navigate it.
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