Since I've last posted, I've had a baby. A beautiful, delicious, little one joined my life -- I'll call him Gentleman.
I am grateful. Humbled. In love.
I am also human.
I struggle with how I look, with how I feel. The jiggly bits around my stomach and all the loose skin, rumpled up like bread dough that sat exposed to air for too long. The thighs and ass with dimples, more than can be counted, can be seen through my pants.
My love for my Lovebug (child #1), has kept me from relapsing more times than I can count. It has kept me up. I'm guessing I'll have the same story to tell a year from now in regards to Gentleman.
But weird things happen postpartum. Emotions and feelings and general craziness. What was once up gets lost. Differentiating between up and down is a struggle. You squint and turn your head and shrug your shoulders for a view of Direction Up. Sometimes you leave befuddled, stumbling, but hopefully not headed Direction Down. Sometimes you blindly hope that as you feel your way, step by step through the dark, you will begin to see Up.
I feel that way right now. I wouldn't be lying if I said that I hate parts of my body right now. I want to work out. I want to run. I want to purge. I want to run hills until I puke. I want to buy diet pills and laxatives and only eat safe foods.
We cannot give ourselves only what we want. I cannot give myself only what I want. I cannot be driven by selfishness.
But yet, I'm so disgusted with my weight. I want it gone NOW and I know how I can lose it quickly.
The majority of the time, I am making healthy decisions. But other times I find myself counting calories, doing squats while I brush my teeth and obsessing about food. All those things can be healthy, but for me, those are obsessive things I do while I'm struggling.
After I had Lovebug, I think I struggled with some Postpartum Depression (OK, I know I did) and I got obsessive about my weight loss. I was too scared to tell anyone, though. I exercised and weighed and counted calories. I didn't relapse. I just controlled everything.
I don't have anyone to talk to. My husband is so busy right now, I can't stress him out and need to support him. If you talk to me about it in person, I come across strong, determined, resolute. It's here where I can be honest and say I have fears, insecurities and doubts. I have trust issues, so the few people who have known about my anorexia have been slowly cut off. And most think it's an issue that plagued me years ago. True and false.
It is always there. Sometimes fresh, sometimes stale.
Here I am: day by day, back and forth, up and down, all these thoughts and emotions in my head.
The weight will come off slowly. Patience.
Patience.
For now, I lean on my faith, my love for my kids and myself. I can do this. I have to.
