I made a mistake today. I did something that I had purposefully been avoiding, knowing if I did it, it would make my head spin and send me out of control emotionally. But I went ahead and did it anyway.
I weighed myself.
I didn’t really need to do it. I can look at myself with or without a mirror, and tell with certainty, shit ain’t right. But I did it anyway, as some sort of sick confirmation of my misery.
Over the last 3 years I have lived the most stagnant life I have ever had the privilege of living. I take care of my 87 year old grandmother. And though I love her dearly, my chosen obligation has absolutely derailed my previous life styles.
I spend 90 percent of my time at home within easy reach of my grandmother. And the small luxuries of my previous lives that I have maintained are drinking heady beers, and eating amazing home cooked food.
My weight wouldn’t matter as much if those were not the only two little bliss factors in my life.
I am use to being quite social, active, and involved in mentally and physically engaging activities. I am use to working hard, and playing hard, metabolizing both alcohol and experience.
Instead I have become well versed in Netflix, and drinking alone. Not drinking to get drunk, mind you. Drinking because I love beer.
Today is day 5 of not drinking. My body is going through a disgusting skin detox.
I stood naked before my shower, looking in the mirror, muttering to myself, “I really shouldn’t weigh myself. It is a bad idea.”
I responded by pulling the scale out of the cabinet. Stepping up, looking down. Which led to crying.
I know that concepts of beauty are not entirely tied into how much a person weighs. Beauty is a thing from within, that is sometimes evident without. I do not feel beautiful on either side of the coin. I have been strategically hiding behind costumes in order to play a role of comfort and confidence.
I have seen myself be physically content with my body before, and it is the best feeling EVER! Why? Because it becomes one less thing to worry about on a day to day basis. When I am happy with my physical appearance, I feel more capable of handing other aspects of living. No one likes the girl who is constantly worried about how she looks because she doesn’t have the confidence to radiate.
Facing the truth of how my body has morphed over the last 3 years, happened about a month ago. I stood to a challenge and went to an comedy open mic. I recorded my set. The set wasn’t bad at all, but I couldn’t get over how my once toned arms, radiated white like big wings on a bird. They seem huge.
I use to joke that women need great girl friends that will let them know when they start to get back fat. I haven’t had any girl friends around lately to remind me of my appearance. I mean what do I have to look good for when I am at home with an elderly lady 90% of the time?
The hardest part of all of this, is realizing that how I look and feel is a byproduct of me not being in the right place for me. The situation has muddled my once sharp brain, into a reclusive and miserable person. I don’t like it at all. It is hard to radiate beauty when feeling so despondent and under inspired.
I am facing the fact, that the time is drawing near to leave. I have to go.
I love my grandma with all of my heart, and I want to see her be safe and healthy, but at what cost?
I have cost my own health and well being to be with her in some respite.
People treat me like I am doing some sort of martyrdom in this experience. But I do not feel like a martyr. I feel that I haven’t done as well as I could or should have. And that feeling isn’t getting any better. I wouldn’t be surprised if all this gain has something to do with the massive amounts of cortisol I am undoubtedly producing within my stagnant stress barrier.
I have become so stuck, I am not sure what direction to go to get out of it. I just know I need to move, and shift, and stretch, and run far, far away from the anchor I have bound myself to.
I would love to spend a month with raw foodies, with active, patient lives. I would like to take the time to reprogram my neuroplasticity into a vibe more along where my heart sings.
I feel inclined to run back to other versions of my past, while truly desiring to make something new and redefined for myself. But I don’t know where to go, I don’t know who to ask. And maybe I won’t, until I just get out of the parameter I have found myself choosing to be stuck inside.
I want to feel beauty, and beautiful. I want to radiate more than I ever have before. I want to make something happen, or be apart of what is happening. A feeling that would be in juxtaposition of how the last three years have felt like, waiting.
I am too young to be waiting on death, and that is the place I have been.
I know I can’t wait on health and wellness to find me. And I know I can’t wait for myself to just get over what I am feeling.
I know I need a change both inside and out.