Well, it's Whack-job Wednesday. You know what that means, I gotta talk through my therapy session with the Rug Doctor. Tonight I had much on my mind. I've been tied in knots and I needed to get it out there.
I shared my drama and told the Rug Doctor that I was so frustrated by life's path right now that I just could not see any way out of it all. Well, except death. And that's not to say I'm suicidal, that just means, that is the only way I see things being different and even in death I didn't know if it would truly be different. I mean, would I be one of those people that end up in purgatory? Or, would I have so much unfinished business that I wouldn't be able to "cross over" and so I would have to haunt people? That would be my luck. Everyone else is up there in heaven relaxing, wearing white robes, eternally, blissfully content and here I am scaring the shit out of someone that deserves it. Or, maybe it is someone that doesn't deserve it. Maybe I'm like Patrick Swayze in that movie Ghost and I am trying to get someone to see how life murdered me with its bullshit.
It was at that moment that I felt the total impact of my depression. I was so depressed, I didn't even see death as an escape. Like, I cannot see an end to it. It's eternal. Forever. No one knows what happens when we die for sure, except the dead people, and most of them don't talk. I mean, some people think they see and talk to dead people, but do they or are they just crazy? Or, are the dead people making them crazy? I really don't know. The Rug Doctor asked me what made me think that I would never get an escape, and that I deserved to be eternally miserable in the afterlife. I shot back, "what makes me deserving of being miserable in the present life?" Sometimes I really do believe I exhaust her. She then quoted something from Buddha or the Dalai Lama about there being two days that we can do nothing about; yesterday and tomorrow. Only today can we impact and be invested in and some may say that is why they call it the present, because it is a gift. Well, friend, I just got the white elephant gift. It's bullshit. And don't even say life is what you make it, blah blah, blah. I don't care if it was Buddha or the Lama, those two meditating beings can come up with all the Hallmark greeting cards they want, this girl has a different outlook. I don't get to sit around in a bathrobe all day and think about clever stuff and self-actualize and shit. I got stuff to do. These bills don't pay themselves, Dalia.
I think I've been struggling a lot recently because life does seem out of control in many ways, but the one thing I have always been able to count on is my people. I'm lucky to have a great support group. But what happens when one (or more) of those people is hurtful? Well, it sucks and it hurts. I like to think that most people accept me for who I am and what I am and understand that my journey in life is often turbulent and I'm vocal about it. I'm sarcastic about it and I try and make fun of it so that it is easier to bear and I talk about it so that others know they are not alone in their struggles. Lord knows, not everyone puts it all out there on the regular like I do. They also understand that the physical form I exist in seems like a major ordeal for me, but isn't something that most of them focus on. My people don't see me like that. My friend, One Eyebrow Betty, always says, "I wish you could see you how we all see you." Most people aren't focused on my size, they are focused on who I am as a person. They want me to be happy and they cheer me on when life is going well and offer empathy when it sucks. But when one of the fold kicks you when you are down, how do you deal with that? I've dealt with it my entire life when it comes to my weight, however, less so as an adult. Most people aren't assholes about it. We all have struggles of our own in life whether they can be seen or they are internal struggles. No one is exempt. Except maybe Mariah Carey. Nothing gets that diva down.
I've always prided myself on being strong and not giving a shit what people think, but right now, I know where I stand physically, emotionally and in health. It isn't where I want to be. I'm so insecure for the first time in a long time. I don't like it one bit. So this one person, why do they get the power? I don't know. Why do people think it is okay to make digs at me when I'm down? Is it to feel better about themselves? Is it to make sure I don't forget I'm unhealthy? Is it to punish me? To shame me into making decisions that they approve of? What part of their being makes them think it is okay to do that to me or anyone else? Look, I'm not perfect, I've criticized other people for stupidity, for being inconsiderate, for being blissfully okay with being self-centered. And yeah, I've made fun of people wearing unicorn poop t-shirts to job interviews. But, I don't see a person struggling and say hurtful things to take them down (unless that person is pushing a door that clearly says "pull." I'm probably going to mock that person. Karma will catch up with me and I'll do the same thing some day).
So, I'm just going to say it, fat shaming is not okay. If you think for one minute I don't see this body in the mirror, you're wrong. If you think I don't feel the strain on my body, you're wrong. If you think that riding my horse doesn't make me feel self-conscious, think again. I know who I am and what I am. I know where I would like to be and I know there is a long road to get there. I haven't given up, but I do struggle. I always have and I always will. I don't need the hurtful comments. I don't need to be reminded. There isn't a moment in any given day that I don't think about my size. And, just so you know, it doesn't raise you up on a pedestal in my eyes (or anyone else's) when you put me down. It doesn't make me think you are better than me. It doesn't motivate me. It hurts me. And, if you truly care about me, you shouldn't want to hurt me. It's not a game, it isn't a joke. Words hurt. I'm a 45 year old woman saying to you, "it's not okay for you to treat me this way." How sad that as an adult living among adults that I have to say, "build me up, don't tear me down." I thought that was common knowledge. It's how I try and treat people (unless they shit all over the bathroom and pee on the seat. Ain't nobody got time for that).
Anyway, writing is my therapy. I needed this off my chest. I don't want it to fester. I want to let it go, but I say to you, I'm a little delicate right now. I'll get strong again. I'll be okay, but if do die anytime soon, if you were mean to me, I will haunt your ass FOREVER. The only thing that may circumvent that from happening is if I get Dalai Lama FMLA and take some time to sit in my robe and contemplate the universe and self-actualize or some sort of shit like that.
I leave you with this:
I shared my drama and told the Rug Doctor that I was so frustrated by life's path right now that I just could not see any way out of it all. Well, except death. And that's not to say I'm suicidal, that just means, that is the only way I see things being different and even in death I didn't know if it would truly be different. I mean, would I be one of those people that end up in purgatory? Or, would I have so much unfinished business that I wouldn't be able to "cross over" and so I would have to haunt people? That would be my luck. Everyone else is up there in heaven relaxing, wearing white robes, eternally, blissfully content and here I am scaring the shit out of someone that deserves it. Or, maybe it is someone that doesn't deserve it. Maybe I'm like Patrick Swayze in that movie Ghost and I am trying to get someone to see how life murdered me with its bullshit.
It was at that moment that I felt the total impact of my depression. I was so depressed, I didn't even see death as an escape. Like, I cannot see an end to it. It's eternal. Forever. No one knows what happens when we die for sure, except the dead people, and most of them don't talk. I mean, some people think they see and talk to dead people, but do they or are they just crazy? Or, are the dead people making them crazy? I really don't know. The Rug Doctor asked me what made me think that I would never get an escape, and that I deserved to be eternally miserable in the afterlife. I shot back, "what makes me deserving of being miserable in the present life?" Sometimes I really do believe I exhaust her. She then quoted something from Buddha or the Dalai Lama about there being two days that we can do nothing about; yesterday and tomorrow. Only today can we impact and be invested in and some may say that is why they call it the present, because it is a gift. Well, friend, I just got the white elephant gift. It's bullshit. And don't even say life is what you make it, blah blah, blah. I don't care if it was Buddha or the Lama, those two meditating beings can come up with all the Hallmark greeting cards they want, this girl has a different outlook. I don't get to sit around in a bathrobe all day and think about clever stuff and self-actualize and shit. I got stuff to do. These bills don't pay themselves, Dalia.
I think I've been struggling a lot recently because life does seem out of control in many ways, but the one thing I have always been able to count on is my people. I'm lucky to have a great support group. But what happens when one (or more) of those people is hurtful? Well, it sucks and it hurts. I like to think that most people accept me for who I am and what I am and understand that my journey in life is often turbulent and I'm vocal about it. I'm sarcastic about it and I try and make fun of it so that it is easier to bear and I talk about it so that others know they are not alone in their struggles. Lord knows, not everyone puts it all out there on the regular like I do. They also understand that the physical form I exist in seems like a major ordeal for me, but isn't something that most of them focus on. My people don't see me like that. My friend, One Eyebrow Betty, always says, "I wish you could see you how we all see you." Most people aren't focused on my size, they are focused on who I am as a person. They want me to be happy and they cheer me on when life is going well and offer empathy when it sucks. But when one of the fold kicks you when you are down, how do you deal with that? I've dealt with it my entire life when it comes to my weight, however, less so as an adult. Most people aren't assholes about it. We all have struggles of our own in life whether they can be seen or they are internal struggles. No one is exempt. Except maybe Mariah Carey. Nothing gets that diva down.
I've always prided myself on being strong and not giving a shit what people think, but right now, I know where I stand physically, emotionally and in health. It isn't where I want to be. I'm so insecure for the first time in a long time. I don't like it one bit. So this one person, why do they get the power? I don't know. Why do people think it is okay to make digs at me when I'm down? Is it to feel better about themselves? Is it to make sure I don't forget I'm unhealthy? Is it to punish me? To shame me into making decisions that they approve of? What part of their being makes them think it is okay to do that to me or anyone else? Look, I'm not perfect, I've criticized other people for stupidity, for being inconsiderate, for being blissfully okay with being self-centered. And yeah, I've made fun of people wearing unicorn poop t-shirts to job interviews. But, I don't see a person struggling and say hurtful things to take them down (unless that person is pushing a door that clearly says "pull." I'm probably going to mock that person. Karma will catch up with me and I'll do the same thing some day).
So, I'm just going to say it, fat shaming is not okay. If you think for one minute I don't see this body in the mirror, you're wrong. If you think I don't feel the strain on my body, you're wrong. If you think that riding my horse doesn't make me feel self-conscious, think again. I know who I am and what I am. I know where I would like to be and I know there is a long road to get there. I haven't given up, but I do struggle. I always have and I always will. I don't need the hurtful comments. I don't need to be reminded. There isn't a moment in any given day that I don't think about my size. And, just so you know, it doesn't raise you up on a pedestal in my eyes (or anyone else's) when you put me down. It doesn't make me think you are better than me. It doesn't motivate me. It hurts me. And, if you truly care about me, you shouldn't want to hurt me. It's not a game, it isn't a joke. Words hurt. I'm a 45 year old woman saying to you, "it's not okay for you to treat me this way." How sad that as an adult living among adults that I have to say, "build me up, don't tear me down." I thought that was common knowledge. It's how I try and treat people (unless they shit all over the bathroom and pee on the seat. Ain't nobody got time for that).
Anyway, writing is my therapy. I needed this off my chest. I don't want it to fester. I want to let it go, but I say to you, I'm a little delicate right now. I'll get strong again. I'll be okay, but if do die anytime soon, if you were mean to me, I will haunt your ass FOREVER. The only thing that may circumvent that from happening is if I get Dalai Lama FMLA and take some time to sit in my robe and contemplate the universe and self-actualize or some sort of shit like that.
I leave you with this:
"I
believe all suffering is caused by ignorance. People inflict pain on
others in the selfish pursuit of their happiness or satisfaction. Yet
true happiness comes from a sense of peace and contentment, which in
turn must be achieved through the cultiv"
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