Tag Archives: panic

Insecurity

Tiring.

Exhausting.

What’s real?

What isn’t?

Whats he think?

Whats she saying?

What are they looking at?

Not good enough.

Not pretty enough.

Too loud.

Too quiet.

I’ve heard them both.

Too kind.

Too gentle.

Too caring.

Too compassionate.

Too aggressive.

Too loud.

I’ve heard it all.

Too ugly.

Too fat.

Too tall.

Too “boyish”.

Too dramatic.

Talks too much.

Laughs too loud.

Loves too hard.

Too faithful.

Too loyal.

Cries too much.

Know it all.

User.

Loser.

Fatty.

Bitch.

Spoiled.

Brat.

Worthless.

No good.

Ditzy.

Dumb.

Blonde.

What happened to my name?

I’m certain they forgot it.

I love you.

Buy me this.

I love you.

Do this.

No!

Fine you don’t love me.

Their voices.

Their words.

My head.

Freedom of Speech?

It’s simply amazing to me what things we are “allowed” to protest in this country.

A group of heavily armed white men can storm the state house of Michigan, spit in the faces of police officers and threaten the lives of the lawmakers working there, and everyone else for that matter, in protest of a global health emergency, just because they want to not stay home. No one bats an eye though.

These heavily armed really angry white people get by with threatening and intimidating the lives of people and no one cared. Said it was their “second amendment right” to act like this. Did you see a SWAT team and riot gear? Did you see tear gas being thrown? Did you see people being pushed by law enforcers? Did you see anything you see now?

No, you didn’t.

We show up with Black Lives Matter or the last words of a man, “I can’t breathe”, and suddenly out comes the cops, dogs, police looking for a fight, riot gear, rubber bullets, tactical units, tear gas, white men toting their guns threatening to shoot people. Cops pushing old men down leaving them to bleed with a crack skull on the ground, and when protestors try to come to his aide, boom nightsticks across the chest.

If you can’t see how cops silencing you’re first amendment right to peacefully protest by showing up and shutting you up anyway possible whenever you try to exercise that right, unless you’re protesting the “right” thing you’re not allowed to.

In all the videos I’ve watched shot on cell phones live compared to mainstream media and some not mainstream media sources show you is appalling. You want the real footage go to tiktok, or reddit, or anywhere you can watch live video. You’ll see that all these protests start completely peaceful until there are snipers on the, SWAT in your face, and tear gas has been deployed.

Honestly I didn’t think at that point I could control my anger or myself either. I think I’d be like, “oh yeah! Silence me! Fuck you!” And I’d be making sure they heard me. I don’t like violence. I don’t like theft. But most of all I don’t like watching a man be murdered on live video, by an egotistical angry hate monster even more!

The Scale Won Today

I thought I would be writing a victory blog tonight about how I didn’t weigh myself today.

Well I can’t do that now.

My anxiety about my weight won, obviously. It’s such a subconscious thing for me. I used to never consider owning a scale because of this problem of always watching the numbers.

I don’t think it helps me to know how many ounces I gained or lost in the last 24 hours. I think it only drives my eating disorders further.

Today I blew it by going into our master bath to use the bathroom in the middle of the day. That’s the bathroom with the scale. I stepped on it to see that I gained weight, then went about my day.

As I’m writing about my struggle with the scale I realize that almost every time I use our master bathroom I step on that scale. I’m not sure what it is my brain is doing here, but I know it’s time for it to learn a new behavior. A new way of thinking.

I’m sure this “need” to weigh myself frequently is stemming from the fact that I’ve gained weight since having my gastric bypass reversed in December. I know it is a much needed weight gain, consciously, but I don’t think the subconscious has gotten the message.

I’m sure the fact that I was bullied not only at school, but at home as well for my weight. The same people who would tell that my bullies were wrong, or that I was wrong when I called myself names were in fact calling me names too.

One can only take being called “fat” so many times. One can only take being told, “I know how you can loose 10 ugly pounds…cut your head off.” So many times. I guess those things no matter how much you work through them just are deep rooted and stay that way.

4 years of CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) and I’m still uncovering things I have to work on. Clearly this is another part of my subconscious that I have to correct. It isn’t easy.

Alot of the times, like just now, I have to talk through something to figure out where to begin the healing journey. While writing this blog I figured out one thing that probably is fueling my need to weigh myself.

I’m not certain where to begin. I’m positive I’ll figure it out though. I know not having access to a scale will cause me anxiety and panic, so removing it from the house is not an acceptable answer. Constantly obsessing about my changes in weight is not an acceptable answer either.

Now if I could just figure out the whole eating disorder recovery thing I’d be extremely happy!

11 Word Note to Myself

Remember the struggle is real, but your “reality” may not be.