If only I could say fuck it
Lately I've been thinking a lot.
Don't look so surprised - I do think. Well, mostly I overthink, but the base is the same.
There are currently 4 things I mostly think about:
1. Artificial Intelligence
2. Are my kids gonna survive my parenting?
3. Why do I still care about my weight?
4. Depression.
I'm not gonna get into my many, many thoughts about AI just yet, and my 6 & 9 year olds have not realised my feelings of inadequacy, so I can get away with the parenting for a little longer.
But my weight and depression has become an intertwined mess that I just cannot seem to untangle.
Firstly, I am too fat.
Not by the standard of artists that like plump cherubs adorning their canvasses, but by the standard of day to day life. Calf height boots don't zip up, I had a very uncomfortable time on a bar stool recently, coz my girth and its proportions were simply not compatible. I inwardly rejoiced on a recent local flight when my hips just, JUST did NOT cross over to the seat next to me. Just. And this was with support underwear.
(For clarity, this is not some "I think I'm fat, but really I look like a swimwear model" situation - I weigh 106kg, at 1.7m tall, which puts me at a BMI of 36.7 - firmly in the obese category.)
Don't look so surprised - I do think. Well, mostly I overthink, but the base is the same.
There are currently 4 things I mostly think about:
1. Artificial Intelligence
2. Are my kids gonna survive my parenting?
3. Why do I still care about my weight?
4. Depression.
I'm not gonna get into my many, many thoughts about AI just yet, and my 6 & 9 year olds have not realised my feelings of inadequacy, so I can get away with the parenting for a little longer.
But my weight and depression has become an intertwined mess that I just cannot seem to untangle.
Firstly, I am too fat.
Not by the standard of artists that like plump cherubs adorning their canvasses, but by the standard of day to day life. Calf height boots don't zip up, I had a very uncomfortable time on a bar stool recently, coz my girth and its proportions were simply not compatible. I inwardly rejoiced on a recent local flight when my hips just, JUST did NOT cross over to the seat next to me. Just. And this was with support underwear.
(For clarity, this is not some "I think I'm fat, but really I look like a swimwear model" situation - I weigh 106kg, at 1.7m tall, which puts me at a BMI of 36.7 - firmly in the obese category.)
I've been on the diets, the exercise regimens, the meditation retreats, and from my point of view, the harder I try, the heavier I get. That can't be right, but it is how I feel.
And that is likely the problem: the feels.
I suffer from depression. At last count (after many different combinations of medication and therapy) the diagnosis was something in the line of "High functioning, treatment resistant, extreme depression."
A very inaccurate, but to me acceptable breakdown is:
High functioning - able to hide it well
Treatment resistant - too stubborn to get better
Extreme - lots of
Depression - the "sadness" (I'll probably have to explain that someday - I am aware that people who don't suffer from depression, don't get this part. I am planning on writing on this a lot more, if I'm not too depressed... insert "winky face with a tear running down the cheek" here.)
And not surprising, one of my coping mechanisms is food.
Which of course does not help when you are crying about how fat you are while scoffing a large pizza.
Quick aside: my weight makes me unhappy, but it does not take me into depression. When I go into depression it happens for seemingly no reason. But when I am depressed, being fat spirals me deeper.
I hate it.
But although I don't see it, there must be some self-sabotage going on, coz like I said, it feels like the harder I try the heavier I get.
So I said "fuck it! I'll just be fat and accept that!"
Which brings us to the phrasing of point 3. Why do I still care about my weight?
Fuck knows. But although I am well versed in giving up on diets and exercise (stuck to a regime for over 2 years, so not completely for lack of trying), I seem to be unable to give up about caring about my weight.
Not health or self care - those I think you should maintain - but as much I want to just say "fuck it, I'll just be fat" I always end up a mess, hating my body.
"If only I was a brain in a jar," I said.
More on that next time.
xxxSuki
(Photo from a Yoco workshop I was at earlier this year. Yup, nothing small about me there.)
--
And that is likely the problem: the feels.
I suffer from depression. At last count (after many different combinations of medication and therapy) the diagnosis was something in the line of "High functioning, treatment resistant, extreme depression."
A very inaccurate, but to me acceptable breakdown is:
High functioning - able to hide it well
Treatment resistant - too stubborn to get better
Extreme - lots of
Depression - the "sadness" (I'll probably have to explain that someday - I am aware that people who don't suffer from depression, don't get this part. I am planning on writing on this a lot more, if I'm not too depressed... insert "winky face with a tear running down the cheek" here.)
And not surprising, one of my coping mechanisms is food.
Which of course does not help when you are crying about how fat you are while scoffing a large pizza.
Quick aside: my weight makes me unhappy, but it does not take me into depression. When I go into depression it happens for seemingly no reason. But when I am depressed, being fat spirals me deeper.
I hate it.
But although I don't see it, there must be some self-sabotage going on, coz like I said, it feels like the harder I try the heavier I get.
So I said "fuck it! I'll just be fat and accept that!"
Which brings us to the phrasing of point 3. Why do I still care about my weight?
Fuck knows. But although I am well versed in giving up on diets and exercise (stuck to a regime for over 2 years, so not completely for lack of trying), I seem to be unable to give up about caring about my weight.
Not health or self care - those I think you should maintain - but as much I want to just say "fuck it, I'll just be fat" I always end up a mess, hating my body.
"If only I was a brain in a jar," I said.
More on that next time.
xxxSuki
(Photo from a Yoco workshop I was at earlier this year. Yup, nothing small about me there.)
--
