Pretty Ugly

What is that thing about us that makes us judge ourselves so harshly?

Is there always the pervasive link to abuse or could it be something more costly?

Could it be an internalized need to compare one to another?

After all, we look through countless pages of magazines,

Idolizing airbrushed beauties as we dream...

Lusting for perfection.

Unobtainable beauty, 

Life's worldly possession.

In essence we ARE already that beauty,

 We so desperately long to be.

As seen through the eyes of a stranger

A gentler, kinder, prettier persona of me.

How I Feel - 5/19/14

This is my safe place. A place of honesty and sharing. I've shown my failures and I've shared my triumphs. I've even allowed a little peek into my soul. So what's left but to say that which lies beneath the sweet façade, giving unto the things that crawleth under the skin sending one spiraling into darkness praying to survive another day...as the inevitable awaits.


I unconsciously lift my fork to my mouth. There is food there, so I eat of it. Food doesn't taste good today nor did it yesterday. I still say it feels good to have made progress, but I am still very afraid. What if I fail again? What if I go so far only to start from square one again? How sick will I get this time?


Will I ever lose this weight? How can I ever lose this weight? Stupid diets don't work! All they do is make me want to STOP...eating. I have to eat.


Sometimes I don't feel healthy enough to exercise. I feel sick and I'm always tired. I've worn myself to the core. My monsters laugh at me. They can't hurt me anymore, but that doesn't matter. I've mastered hurting myself.

How many of us suffer, unable to see past poor self image? You don't have to answer that. I bet the majority of us do. I see so many having been emotionally, mentally and physically damaged...brutally so sometimes. The suffering is beyond pandemic. We are so saturated with pain that it's almost unrecognizable...invisible. We used to overlook pain because it wasn't talked about, but now we overlook the pain because it's what we are all about. Who hasn't been affected by addiction, physical affliction, unfortunate parenting, victimization, sexual deviancy, learned behavior, narcissism, co-dependency, mental illness...whatever the.... You name it we've got it...welcome to hell.


Why do we cling to pain? I don't understand it, but I see nothing other than IT. The cycle is vicious. There are people who want to hurt people while wanting to hurt themselves because they've been hurt; but then they may choose to hurt themselves over hurting other people, because it's another way to hurt others while feeding the inherent desire to continue the hurt they've known. It's a way of getting attention. It's a way of being left alone. It's a way of screaming out loud. It's a way of keeping silent. It's a relief. It's an escape. Pain used to cope with pain...that's the name of the game...right? If pain doesn't come now...it will most assuredly come later. No one goes unscathed.


The cycle of torment spans generations. The only difference between us and them...then and now...speaking our truth out loud. Of course, there are still those who live by the old decree...what happens in this house stays in this house. Secrets and lies stacked up in closets and shoved under beds; sent of to the places of unknown. I still wonder what kinds of hell past generations have seen. What lies have been dragged into graves. My mom had secrets...lots of them. Many of which I don't know or care to remember. She knew all my dirty secrets and dared not speak of them...not even to me.


I can't get this feeling out of my head...the feeling of being leprous, undesirable...cursed. Hell's fire upon all who look upon me. I am the hunchback of Notre Dame. The one shunned and ran away from. I do not know the love others claim to know. I have been used, abused and left to wither away. People tell me I'm pretty even beautiful, but it's all an illusion. I'm hidden behind smoke and mirrors. They want to make me feel better, but I don't want them to make me feel better and if they continue trying to make me feel better than I won't allow myself to feel better at all. I can't stand the disappointment. I can't stand feeling pretty for another moment only to watch it fade away...again. I just want to be left alone. Funny...I tell others they're beautiful. I want them to believe it because I believe it. Do they really believe me or do they feel the same as I do? Am I really helping them or am I trying to help myself?


I want to be stuck in a cave far away from humanity. I want to go unseen. I want to move along the crevices of existence cloaked by the black of night. I want to be sheltered by the silence of my thoughts. They won't be silenced. I want to numb my thoughts with food, self medicated in the comfort of being uncomfortable, but I can't. My desire to do so is fading so I sit here tonight and I write, fighting to live a life that I've never lived. Tonight I sit lost in a poetic slur.

My Aha Moment

I had an aha moment yesterday. It came to me when I unexpectedly experienced a brief moment of mourning while celebrating an accomplishment. Whenever I can, I like to take a few quiet moments to reflect on the things I've been blessed to achieve in my day. I also like to check in with myself to see if I've been able to do a little better than yesterday. This is my way of making mental notes of progress and pitfalls. I find it beneficial to be fully aware of both.


There was a post that I wrote a few days ago. I spoke of deserving to feel good and how the negativity of others was weighing me down, sometimes making me feel guilty for feeling good. It's not always noticeable at first. To be honest I don't think the looming negativity became relevant in my conscious mind until I focused on getting out of my own negative space. That is when all other negativity started to surface and I find myself wanting to be rid of it. Negativity can seep into your conscious and fester like a disease. It can spread into every facet of your being if not careful. Be mindful of the negativity that surrounds you.


I celebrated moving out of a negative space, but in that moment of celebration I began to feel a sense of mourning, like the loss of an old acquaintance. That old acquaintance was my self-loathing. I mourned it because I recognized it leaving. It's been a part of me for so long. I knew it well and it was being replaced by positive feelings which I am not that familiar with. Question: Could this be why it's so hard for people to let go of the bad thing in their lives? Maybe because the bad things are what we are most familiar with and good things are not trusted to be everlasting.


That was my aha moment. I allowed myself to mourn the loss of a measure of negativity and I welcomed the good that settle in. The good is still here.


How do you cope with the bad things in your life? Do you deal with them? Ignore them? Bury them? Hold on to them?


Are you as frightened as I am to let go of the familiar? Do you embrace the good that you deserve or question its authenticity?


Have you ever found yourself in a moment of happiness only to face gripping fear of something terrible taking all of the happiness away?


You're not alone. I live with these questions and fears everyday. So know when that moment of goodness and truth comes in, take it for what it's worth and strive for more. When you find yourself celebrating accomplishing something wonderful, allow yourself to release the negativity that preceded it. Allow yourself to be free in that moment.


I did not binge last night. Breakfast was a little late today, around 11:30am. I had eggs with chicken and a large glass of water. I did not get around to eating lunch. For dinner I had red rice with veggies and smoked turkey sausage and a large glass of water. I will have a premeasured snack set aside for tonight if needed.


I wanting to focus a little more on weight loss and plan to do so, however I'm not strong enough for it to be a primary goal. It's too soon. I fear starving myself will come into play if I make my weight a focal point.


A good friend challenged me to try something different. I have recently made a commitment to try eating a slice of rye bread each morning for breakfast. I am not a fan of rye bread, but I'm willing to give it a shot. My understanding is that rye bread helps with weight loss, cholesterol, constipation and blood sugars. So, I'll be starting my new trend on Monday of next week. I'll let you know if I see any results. I will not post my weight, but I will let you know if I've lost any pounds and or ounces.

Painful Image

I've been trying to write this post for two days. The subjects of body image and self-image are touchy subjects for me. I'm not one who likes to think of my image. I'd much rather hide in the shadows or blend in with the background.

That being said, I'm still not sure where to begin nor do I know where it will end. I must have started and deleted this post two or three times and I'm still struggling. I sure do use the word struggle a lot. Crap! This is complicated. Anyway, here it goes...


How does one begin to describe themselves? Which vantage point is better? As they say, there are two sides to a coin. Both sides are different, yet work in unison to create one complete coin. So, what happens when both sides are so different that they don't make a concise unit? In other words, what happens when one's body image does not match one's self-image? 


What's the difference between body image and self-image anyway?


BODY IMAGE


A subjective picture of one's own physical appearance established both by self-observation and by noting the reactions of others.


SELF IMAGE


dʒ/ The idea, conception, or mental image one has of oneself.

---

In my personal opinion, I believe we all come into existence with a clear idea of who we are and what we are meant to look like. A prime example of this is a person who feels they were born the wrong sex. They recognize this at a very early age. Clearly they have an understanding of who they are, but when they look in the mirror they don't see themselves. Instead they see someone else. They know what they see is real, but it's not right. 

My situation is different, but similar. It is not a question of identity by sex. I was born a female and know that I am supposed to be female, however, there is and always has been an image in my mind as to who I am and what I should look like. I have yet to see that image in the mirror. Therefore, I've never felt that I was fully myself. I'm more of a creation, pieced together by circumstance which making me a bit of a Frankenstein. I can't help but think of a small excerpt from one of my poems. It all makes sense now.

Look at it!

Hideous, monstrous…grotesque,


 A real life Frankenstein.

People will run and scream.

This is how I feel and at times that was my experience.

The image of me that lives in my mind is beautiful. I'm tall and voluptuous with long locks and flawless skin. I have a peaceful expression and a wealth of love that radiates from me. When I look into a mirror...I see a body ravaged by pain, patchy skin color, dim eyes, massive girth serving as a wall to keep people away, but also doubling as an ill fitted band aid. A poor attempt to cover my wounds. I see a void, a huge nothing. I feel nothing for myself. 


It is the effects of abuse that molds me and makes my image askew.


I grow angry when I think of what I perceive as should have been, as opposed to what is. I grow even angrier when I think of all that I could have been or at least have tried, but didn't because I had no support nor did I have anything left after warding off my parent's evil. Life is but a mist. I don't know how long life will be for me. I want to make the best of the time I have left. I grow weary thinking of how much time has passed and how much of that time has been wasted on survival. I haven't even begun to really live yet. I’m so very tired...


Enough with my image issues for now. I'm going to focus a little more energy on my letter to self. By the way, it's coming along well. I'm not in a place where I feel comfortable sharing the content of my letter, but I will keep you abreast of the progress and any epiphanies that come of it.


I will share this much with you today. While I was working on the letter yesterday, I began asking myself questions. I asked a particular question and answered it immediately. Only thing, it wasn't my 48 year old self that answered. It was me at the age of 4 year who spoke up. That was totally unexpected and shook me completely. I'd never heard the voice of my 4 year old self before. It wasn't an actual voice, but an internal voice. She wants to be heard...so I'm going to listen and write.


Dear God, please be with me, that I be able to withstand what I am about to endure. I've never had an experience like this before. I know that I've been trying to get inside myself and here I am. I am ready, but I am also afraid.