I’m here again with some random ramblings. I am at an all time low in the self esteem department. I have gained over 20 lbs this year alone. I cannot stop eating. My love affair with food is toxic and controlling. One reason to blame: my birth control. Since starting the depo shot, I have gained more than 40 or so lbs. I have struggled to lose even the fewest of pounds. I think I’ve pretty much given up.
No. Fuck that.
I am smarter than food, right? I am stronger than food, I think? I just need to change my perspective. Fall in love with cooking and eating healthy. Crave that feeling you get after you out something good into your body.
I need to start working out as well. I sit in an office 5 days a week, strapped to a chair. My body is starting to feel the effect. I am tired all the time. My body aches and cramps and just plain hurts. I never feel good, oh and my depression and anxiety seem to be gaining a dangerous momentum.
I NEED TO CHANGE, NOW.
I love my birth control. I have zero periods, and the only side effect I’ve had are these clinging pounds. I don’t want to stop taking it. I love sex. I love not being pregnant. Oh and please spare me the “you can get pregnant on birth control!” Stories. I know, I have a doctor.
I think it’s going to have to be a day by day basis with little goals to hit. 3 lbs a month seems achievable right? Slow and steady. Then maybe I can start feeling good about myself again.
Maybe I’ll document my journey through writing. Maybe I won’t. I haven’t decided.
We shall see.
It’s true. This life is not what I want, what I need. This Is not how this should play out. I am supposed to be happy. I am supposed to be fun. To be bold. When did I become this hollow shell of a person? How did this happen? I could blame it on a million things, but I think it’s my fault.
All my life I have lived for others. For my family, for my friends, for men. Never for myself. It’s funny really, how I’ve changed myself to fit into different molds. Not me. I think I might know who I am, maybe?
I am wild. I am fierce. I am honest. I am kind. I can be harsh. I am loud. I have passions. I love to laugh. Writing used to be my joy, and I’m trying to find it again. I am a wolf. I am beautiful. I love to drink. I love to cook. I love company. I love to read, paint, and dance. I am clumsy. I trip over my words. I am jealous. I am anxious. I am depressed.
I am so much more than I give myself credit for.
I have a purpose. I am supposed to love without fear, without regret. I am supposed to enjoy life. I am too young to be this bitter, to be this sad.
My life is not over. It’s only just begun.
I don’t know where to begin. It seems I only come here when my cup runneth over with sadness, fear, anxiety, and anger. I suppose it’s an outlet of sorts. A release that I no longer have in the real world. When is the last time I actually picked up a pen and put it to paper? I haven’t. Not in a very long time. I need to.
I have so many pent up thoughts, emotions, devastations. Maybe if I write them down, I can let go of them. I can start healing myself, repairing the broken pieces. Maybe I just need new glue.
I find it hard to let people love me, for fear that they will suddenly stop. It has become tiring for my boyfriend to constantly reassure me that he does in fact love me. My brain fights me every step of the way. It plants seeds of doubt in every corner of my mind. “He doesn’t love you. He is only with you for comfort, for safety.” “It’s not true! I am worthy! I love him and he loves me!” I always fight back angrily and try to win. I seldom ever do.
I guess I’m writing this because it’s been bottled in my mind for so long and this is the only way I know how to get it out. It’s much easier to type this, than to write it on paper. One day I might be able to be perfectly normal. To live without sadness or anger. To live without fear or anxiety.
One day I might become easier to love.
Today is not that day.
For no discernible reason other than wanting to see my thoughts typed on a screen, I have come back. I have come back to tell a new story. A new tale of woe, so to speak. I’m trying to appeal to the readers, if there are any out there. I want to become a better writer, so I guess that means I shall have to write more. A lot more if I ever want to make anything of value.
It’s always around this time of year that I find myself growing disconnected from my friends and my general life. I start to ache with a strong need of something new and exciting. Something that never ends up coming my way. I frequent my room more often and I bury my mind into books. I staunch off invitations to leave the safety and comfort of my home and I pass up opportunities to spend time with loved ones. In short, I become a hermit. A time to reflect, to think, to create. It aggravates the hell out of people, or at least it used to. I know exactly the cause, and I know most of you will find it ridiculous and absolutely absurd, but it’s a hundred percent true, I promise.
It’s the weather.
Here in good ole’ Florida, it is an astonishing ninety degrees outside with the promise of seventy five in the evening. It’s September, which means that every freaking retail store in the state is already starting to get ready for “Fall”. Pumpkin spice flavours everything from drinks to candy. Everything is orange and black and of course Halloween decorations have started to litter the shelves.
I hate it. It’s hot. Whilst the rest of the country and world have started to cool down in terms of temperature, we have just started to become more humid, more unbearable. I hate the heat, I always have. I have always found that I am more active, more creative and definitely happier when the weather is cooler. I don’t understand it, but it’s true. I get so excited when it cools down. I get to wear jackets and scarves. I get to have fires out on my patio. It’s not miserable to go on a hike outside. Everything feels better. But at this point in time, I am stuck in limbo. I am stuck checking the 30 day forecast everyday and hoping it’s wrong because it doesn’t present a cool down until November. I can’t wait that long. I have Summertime Sadness. I want it to go away.
So I wait, impatiently if you will, for Florida to decide to cool down. I feel I am waiting in vain. I think when my lease is up I am going to find myself somewhere with actual seasons. Somewhere that has an Autumn season. Somewhere with snow. Somewhere very far away from this God awful heat.