Run Jenni, Run











{May 13, 2013}   05.13.2013 – Part Two

I am having a bad day.  I’m unhappy, and I don’t know what would make me happy again.  Well, I do know what would make me happy, but it feels entirely unattainable at this point.  

I can remember when I could get on a scale and it would say 185.  I was happy at that weight.  It may have been a completely fucked up and emotionally disturbing time in my life, but that number meant everything to me.  Because that number was the result of a journey that was several years in the making.  That was me at 100 pounds less than I was in high school.  And I would give anything to get that number back.  And that sentence scares me.  Feeling the need to do anything to get a number back seems a bit ridiculous.  And more so than feeling ridiculous, it is causing an internal battle with myself.

I don’t know how to do moderate.  I have always been the type of person who is highly restrictive in her eating habits or binges on every sweet that she can get her hands on.  And I feel like that is how I have been living for the past several years.  I’ll restrict, restrict, restrict, until I can’t take it anymore and I end up eating an entire cake by myself.  And I laugh it off, and my friends laugh it off, and my family says “that’s just the way you’re made” or “you just need to splurge every now and then”.  But that isn’t healthy for me.  Going from 1000 calories one day to upwards of 3000 the next is dangerously unhealthy, and I’m getting to where I’ll do it on a normal basis.

I was so happy when I went to the doctor because I thought that finally someone would see the problems that I’m going through without me having to spell them out.  I was all set up to find a nutritionist that was going to help me figure out my bad eating habits and get me on track to having a healthy relationship with food.  And then Insurance got in the way.  “You cannot have a visit to a nutritionist through our company covered since you have a wellness program set up through your employer”.  I hid it, but I was crushed.  and I know that my therapist would say crushed is an “irrational” word, but that is how I felt.  I covered it up with finding the fitness program for the summer through the school board, but I really hated that I could not get the one thing I thought I really needed.

And now I’m stuck,

I am working through therapy, but I’m not feeling any better about my appearance.  I can read self-help and diet books until I’ve spent my life savings on them, but nothing seems to help.  I feel broken and all I want to do is cry because as much as I am putting on a facade of eating healthy and trying to lose weight, nothing is happening.  As much as I exude “confidence”, if there has been any movement on the scale it has been in a upward direction.  And I’ve given the muscle weighs more than fat talk as many times as I have received it, and I just feel like it does not apply in this case.  I have excess fat to lose.  I have lost it before.  So, it’s not muscle.  It’s just more fat.  

It’s so hard to change when you have all the answers, you just don’t know how to use them. I feel like I am so good at motivating others.  I can remember last summer when someone came up to me after a race and they told me I was their “timer”.  I was the person that motivated them to keep running.  When they wanted to stop, they were focused on trying to pass me.  That is kickass.  Now all I can think about is what they would think if they ran a race with me now.  After the ending of my relationship last summer I just kind of let myself go.  I didn’t go as far as some other people do when they end relationships, but I lost my fitness.  I lost my 33 minute 5k time.  I’ve gained close to 40 pounds.  And I never saw the problem while it was happening because I was hiding behind vices.  It’s easy to convince yourself tht nothing is wrong when you have people telling you that you’re beautiful…even if it is for the wrong reasons.  

Now I have a good relationship.  I have a great relationship with a guy that is pushing me to be better.  I just wish I believed him when he told me I was beautiful.  Sure, I have days where I believe it.  I just wish that I could believe it every time.  

Later Days,

-Jenni.

Advertisements


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

et cetera
%d bloggers like this: