10th April 2017
I suppose I wanted to start this space as a means
to lift people up, and to talk about the things that people just don’t want to
talk about. It’s funny though, because even though I seem to talk about
basically everything that normal people don’t like to talk about; there are
some things I don’t want to talk about because there are some things (that aren’t
strangers) that make me feel uncomfortable. But, like, I probably should talk
about them, because either people will be all “hey, yeah me too!” or they’ll
just laugh. And those are two pretty good reasons to talk about something.
The thing that makes me uncomfortable right now is weight.
Weight makes me uncomfortable. Not other people’s weight (no offense, but I
don’t care that much about it). My weight. Prior to my most recent hospital
admission, I was super thin. No matter what I was doing, I made sure that I was
at the gym for two hours every day without fail; and if I wasn’t at the gym, I
was out somewhere running my bum off. In hindsight, this was due to my mania
and infinite source of energy, and a held belief that anything I ate I had to
run off. I was very skinny, and I liked it. And everyone else seemed to like it
too.
During hospital, I was put on a lot of medications
that do things to my brain, and mess with my body, and screw with my ability
to do anything. So, I did what a human vegetable in a psych ward would do: I
slept, and I ate. It sounds funny, because there are heaps of memes about how
good people are at sleeping and eating, but legit that’s all I could do. And
there are a lot of days, even now, where I’ll sleep fourteen plus hours. (For
the record, I miss being able to do things with full consciousness.) Anyway,
I’m sure you can gather that loads of medication + lots of sleep + eating =
weight gain. And it didn’t stop after my discharge. One thing a lot of
people don’t realise about mental health recovery, is that it doesn’t get
better as soon as you’re put on a medication, or as soon as you’re let out of
the funny farm. It takes a fucking long time to get back on your independent
feet, and until that happens all you can do is take your medicine, sleep, and
eat, and buy bigger clothes (unless your metabolism is really fast). I mean,
you can try to exercise (which I do), and it will make you feel better, but
it’s really hard when you’re drowsy, dulled and drugged. Also, chocolate is the
best comfort food when you feel subhuman.
So, yeah, in a year I’ve put on enough weight for
me to feel uncomfortable in my skin. I’d like to think it’s because I’m health
conscious (and yeah, I try to be) but it’s mostly because I’m a narcissist who
enjoyed the attention I got when I was skinny. But can you blame me? Everywhere
you look people are talking about weight loss, and diets, and celebrities who
“got fat”. And then you’ve got people closest to you who are self-proclaimed
fatphobes.
When I was at my lowest weight, the guy I was
seeing said to me “you’re getting fat”. Maybe it was a joke, but he’d also said
to me “don’t worry, I’ll let you know if you get fat.” So, you know. Another
man I know once said about a friend “she put on a bit of weight for a while, but
now she looks good.” The friend he was talking about was recovering from an
eating disorder. And then there are the people who make comments about other
people like “hmm, they don’t look very healthy, do they?” as if they really
care about the health status of a total stranger. It’s like they feel some sort
of entitlement to look at what the mainstream considers beautiful anytime they
go out in public (and by mainstream, I mean editorial magazines).
Can you see why I feel like shit about my
inevitable weight gain? I can feel the subtle (and not so subtle) judgements of
people who knew what I looked like pre-mental-breaking-point. And I’m one of
the fortunate women in society with a tall, straight body type. I can only
imagine what it must be like for people with a body that isn’t celebrated by
any media outlet in the Western world, unless it’s in a special edition with
the title “We Love Every Body (but only for this issue)".
Learning to accept yourself, and all of your bodily
fluctuations, is really hard. Especially when you get dickheads who tell you
your body isn’t good enough (like it’s something you owe them). I’m having a
lot of difficulty with it, especially seeing as I can’t do much about it at
this point in time. I guess it’s a matter of telling myself that being a human
means my body will do things that I don’t want it to do, but it’s probably
doing these things so it can figure itself out. This obviously doesn’t apply to
just weight gain either; it can be weight loss, or hair loss, or (those are the
only ones I can think of right now). If everybody could give himself or herself the permission to accept their bodies (and all their changes), it would make it a lot
easier for everyone else to accept their bodies (and all their changes). Oh, also,
don’t call yourself a lump. Take care of yourself. Do you see where I’m going
with this? I know it’s a little messy, but I just want you to love yourself,
really, and fuck the dickheads (not in a literal sense though, ew).