Four years. One month. Eleven days. Post injury. Post going back to work, changing jobs a few times and still feeling uncontrolled anxiety at the thought of gaining weight. Still inexplicable anger at the thought of not being able to lose weight. It took two years to get back on the bike and two more to finally hit that 20 mile mark.
The ankle still hurts every now and again, stiff cramping pain to remind me that I once was and still am broken. Am I destined to feel awful for always?
People of the void; if you had my body and my life would you be able to love it better? I hate everything about myself from the physical to the the emotional. From the acne to the weight to the injury that lingers to the job I hate.
I don’t want to tell this story to anyone that I know, in person, because it will be met with eye rolls and questions about the truthfulness of my story. I don’t have the energy for that. So, I’ll write it into the void.
I’ve always been overweight. I recall when I was in sixth grade being 5’4, 150. I’m now . obese. I’ve never not been at least a little overweight. Today a lady congratulated me for choosing lentil soup. She said it looked like I needed to start making healthy choices. Look, I get it. I’m fat. Does that give a , stranger the righty to police my food choices? I shouldn’t have to justify why I should be allowed to eat as a fat person, not whatever I want, I mean eating in general. Truth be told I hate being fat so much so that I fanticize about cutting it off. I walk on my lunch break, do squats and jumping jacks at work whenever I have to pee. This is on top of 2-3 hours of kick boxing a week, 30+ miles of cycling, various gym sessions and other walks. I make the conscious decision to work out at least 10 hours a week and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I’m still fat. I don’t understand why. It is eating me alive.
LOA stands for leave of absense in case you didn’t know. It describes the period which I was out of work for my broken ankle. I go back tomorrow, 9 am sharp and I am petrified. It isn’t funny, I feel so sick over it I keep gagging. I can’t tell if it is because I am nervous about my ankle and standing all day or because I genuinly want out. I think I genuinly want out. Having three months to realize how much you hate your jobs is a long time to stew over such things. I am wishing myself luck and not spell checking this entry.
“These damn kids and their new trends.”
Random old lady was of course referring to my trendy walking boot and shoe combination. I just smiled, can’t see getting into an argument with an old woman, she might start talking gout.
Speaking of gout, I had a woman the other day start petting my boot asking what I had done to myself…. creepy.
He said his work was perfect but I wasnt ready yet. Ahh, the egoism of surgeons. Two more weeks of no wieght than another visit to doctor perfect.
Why are negative emotions such a bad thing? Why as a society must we insist everything will get better or get so frustrated with someone else’s negative emotions that we get angry and either change the subject and walk away? Case and point tomorrow I find out whether or not I get to learn to walk again or if I have to stay non weight bearing for another few weeks. No matter what the outcome; I am petrified. Granted, I have already been down what I considering 6 weeks of grueling road and the thought of getting completely well or staying as I am scares me.
My family and some friends that I have spoken to won’t let me be scared, they cut me off and explain how okay everything is going to be or they start yelling that I am throwing myself a pity party. Why can’t I express my sadness without hearing cliché after cliché? I want to scared; I want to be sad until the feeling subsides naturally – after I know everything is going to be okay. I am not preaching doom and gloom, I just want to be sad when I am sad.
When did we as a society ban negative emotions? When did they become bad and scary instead of being simply what they are? My parents keep insisting that I have needed meds throughout this whole process. Yes, chemically induce happiness into a situation that I have every right not to be happy about so that no one has to deal with anything negative. Society you are brilliant. That being said, I will find some chemically induced happiness or at least a chemically induced haze until tomorrow is over.
I knew I could count on you, percicept.
Now bed with my stuffed dragon to keep me company.
Rise and shine, it’s almost 2pm. I just woke up. I miss the stability of going to work. Stupid ankle.