That thing I consider to be the worst mistake of my life? That thing that I wish I could
wake up and have gone? THAT is the where my healing is. For me its my lack of self
love and my beliefs around how I am not deserving.
I’ve heard Geneen Roth say it so many times. She says “there is a crack in everything,
that is how the light gets in”. (originally by Leonard Cohen)
My cracks are my beliefs that I am no good. That I am not worthy. That I am unloveable
as I am today. That I need to change to be loved. Is this true? Who is that voice that
keeps telling me I am no good?
Today it is my job to challenge these beliefs that I learned so well. It is my job to
challenge my superego when it plays my old tapes. It is my job to reparent myself. As
far as I can see there is no other way, for me.
Even as I write this my superego is wreaking havoc.
SE: Of course you need to change to be loved, lovable, worthy. You stupid idiot. You
think that you are going to be loved like this? Like this? Fat and dumpy, no job to speak
of, no goals, no ambition, droopy, saggy eyes, breasts that can sweep the floor? Who
would ever love that? You stupid asshole. Fat people don’t deserve love. Fat people are
worthless, fat people don’t deserve anything because they are fat and clearly they don’t
give a shit about themselves otherwise they wouldn’t let themselves get so fat. You
don’t deserve anything. Only skinny people get the love because they are skinny and
skinny people are worthy.
ME: Is that true? I know plenty of fat people that are loved and that I love. Where did
you learn this from? Who spoke to you like this? Who told you that fat people aren’t
SE: Your father taught you this. To judge other people based on their weight. To tsk tsk
those that were heavy. Shame on them, they take no care of themselves. Remember
how your father used to point out how your mother looked “boxy” when she put on
weight? Or that your thighs were almost as big as his (when you were only 5)? You
remember that, I know you do. Now it’s my job to to remind you how overweight people
don’t count as much. Now it’s my job to remind you how to be mean to yourself. To point
out how “if you gain 1/4 of a pound” those pants wont fit, or how you don’t need that
piece of cake, or that you “shouldn’t” eat that. This is what I am here for. To shame you.
To keep you down. To keep you safe because if you get fatter you will never be loved.
Nobody will ever love you. Your mother told you you were unhappy because of your
weight. Do you remember that? She told you you’d be happier if you lost weight! She
tried to tell you.
ME: Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t about the weight at all but it was about our
connection. I was longing to be adored by her and loved for who I was at that very
young tender age. I was longing to be cherished, chubby or thin. I was longing to have
her eyes delight when she saw me, for her arms to hold me when I was in pain. I ate for
very good reasons. I binged and purged because I was trying to take care of myself the
only way I knew how. I felt alone so I turned to food.
It wasn’t because I couldn’t control myself, not in the beginning. I turned to food
because there was no one else to turn to. No one else that was there for me,
unequivocally, unconditionally, with open arms. I turned to food because food didn’t
judge me or tell me that I wasn’t good enough, or pretty enough, or too loud or too
inappropriate. I turned to food because food was my friend. It loved me and saved me
from a home of unhappiness and conditions.
SE: And now what’s your excuse?
ME: I know you want to keep me down. I know you want me to believe you. I know it is
your job to keep me safe, to avoid taking risks, to avoid being hurt. I know that you do
that through constant berating, criticizing, attacking and belittling. Part of me still
believes you. But there is another part that knows better. I can’t name it right now, but
somewhere inside of me I can feel it. Somewhere inside of me I know that I must be
lovable right now. I am a child of god. No different from you. I have to believe that god
didn’t make garbage.
Somewhere inside of me I know that in order to develop more self love I need to do
things that take good care of myself. Like work out even for 20 minutes when I can’t
even fathom getting on the elliptical (which I am doing after I finish blogging) Today I
need to act as if I matter. And I am. I am getting more manicures, I am paying attention
to my physical hunger vs my emotional hunger and acting accordingly. Today I am
putting on makeup. And I am telling my superego to f*** off and stop treating me like
shit. Stop treating me the way my parents treated me. I don’t deserve to be spoken to
like that anymore. I deserve just what everybody else deserves. Respect, love,
adornment, treasuring and cherishing.
Today I am challenging all of the beliefs that I was taught as a child. That thinner is
better. That I can’t take care of myself. That I need a man to take care of me. That the
world is a scary place.