Yesterday I wrote "Being fat is what I know. Being thin was the anomaly."
I've been noodling that thought in my head ever since.
When I lost weight and was thin, I thought at the time that I felt more like myself than I ever had for all those years I was fat. I felt like I'd finally been freed from the demons of being overweight, and I was then free to be the real me, instead of the me hiding under layers of fat.
Now I just don't know. I think "being fat is what I know" is a cop out. I think it's more of what Geneen Roth says about being fat and being obsessed with diets and food. It's a cover for what's really going on inside me. If I'm occupied with this body stuff, then I don't have to look at and examine the real issues.
Not that the weight isn't a real issue. Clearly, it is. It affects every single aspect of my life.
But I didn't regain weight because food tastes good. I use food like a drug; I'm self soothing, self medicating, and self sabotaging.
As I thought yesterday about the benefits I experienced from being thin beyond the clothes and how I looked in the mirror and in pictures--it has to be about more than just looks, right?--I realized that what I miss most about that time in my life is running and exercising regularly. I spent a good deal of time taking care of myself, of announcing to myself and to the world that "I'm worth it!"
I lost that when my dad got sick in late 2009, and especially in 2010, when so much of my "free" time was spent taking care of him and his concerns. But dad's been gone for over six months. I gained 10 pounds while he was sick; I gained 20 pounds after he died. I didn't go back to taking care of myself when I didn't have to take care of him anymore.
So what's holding me back now? Why can't I make the time to take care of myself? Do I feel like I don't deserve the care and attention? Why did I feel like I deserved it in 2007-2009, but I don't now?
I have no idea. More to explore. This stuff is hard.