F A T

 "Never call a girl fat

..Even if you're joking"

I have always been self-conscious about my weight. I tried any fad diet I could get my hands on, diet pills, exercises, self-starvation... you name it- I've tried it or at least thought about trying it. I've hated myself for a horrid number on the scale for years...

 Guys in high school used to comment about my weight; so, I'd hide in hoodies, or baggy t shirts (but, the sleeves couldn't be too short because God forbid I showed my fat arms). I would see other girls and instantly think "I wish I had her body". I don't even wear swim suits, still to this day, in fear of looking "too fat" and someone pointing it out.

My weight became an obsession, and still is. Gaining a pound, or having someone say something sends me over the edge and I can't shake it. I stare at myself in disgust, I weigh myself a LOT, I don't eat as much, and begin to try to work my ass off. However, last time I went overboard. I began starving myself, walking, doing 5000 stair steppers a day, and doing squats... Granted, I got to a weight I was some-what happy with for the first time in my life.

I got so many good reactions, and I was THRILLED. Only problem was, I tried to start eating normally again and found that my body would attack the food when it finally got it. I would literally be curled up in the fetal position in the shower because I was in so much pain. It wasn't worth it. Somehow, I pulled myself out of that and still managed to (kinda) like my new body in a healthier form.

Then once I got pregnant, I was excited to be having a baby but, absolutely TERRIFIED about gaining weight. As my pregnancy moved along, I was so proud of myself. I had made it to 28 weeks, and only gained EIGHT pounds. Unfortunately, that's when I got sick. I ended up developing severe pre eclampsia and my body retained about forty pounds of fluid... I had BALLOONED. I was a little devastated but more concerned about my baby's safety.

After a couple of weeks, I had lost 33 pounds, which I was thrilled about. However, that was all I lost. From there I noticed I was starting to gain a little again. Up went my self-consciousness... I started hiding in clothes again.

Today maximized those old thoughts and feelings for the first time in a year... All because I was once again told that I am F A T.

The Dark Places I've Been

"No matter how hard the past, 

You can ALWAYS begin again."

-Buddha 

From a pretty young age, I had learned to hate myself and everything about me. I exposed myself to horrible self ridicule, and allowed WAY too many people to succeed in bringing me down. I had felt I deserved nothing less than things or people whom only brought pain. I forgave too often, and too easily, but never have I forgotten. I allowed people to walk over me, to lie to me, to use me, and in some cases, even to abuse me- myself included.
Why expect others to respect and like me if I couldn't even do that for myself? I didn't seeing anything wrong with being degraded, because in my eyes, I felt they were just being honest. Truth hurts, right? There were times that I truly just wanted to end my life, or to just not wake up. I felt THAT alone.
At that point, I so badly wanted to be loved that I put up with just about anything and everything. I was called names, told how difficult I was, told how lucky I was to have someone to actually put up with me, told I wouldn't find anyone else, that I was a whore, that I was the reason they felt the need to lie and cheat. I felt I deserved that emotional, verbal, and physical abuse... because, that's what I was use too.
Then after that came the anxiety and panic attacks. I was terrified of everything! I was scared to lose what I thought was love because that was the love I had known most of my life. I began to truly believe everything I was being told. I LOATHED myself. I started to distance myself from family and friends, I lost my passion for things I once adored, and I became obsessed with keeping that "love" alive. I was convinced that the only thing I had going for me, was my relationship.
I lived and breathed keeping my relationship going, learning to hate myself more and more as time went on...I was an empty shell. I literally had NOTHING going for me. I had my whole life engulfed by one thing; which was one of the major things bringing me down.
I had reached a point where my panic attacks were out of control, and I wasn't eating. I began losing weight, and becoming obsessed with the results. There were days that I weighed myself at LEAST 10 times; I'd wake up- weigh myself, eat- weigh myself, use the bathroom- weigh myself, exercise- weigh myself. If I went up even a single pound, I'd beat myself up and wouldn't allow myself to eat anymore that day. Looking back, I assume this was my outlet and my punishment to myself.
 I finally confided in my doctor, and got put on the medication that I still take to this day. Slowly my anger, and anxiety started to get better. I didn't have such a short fuse and I started to see more clearly. Following not too far after this was the big break up, which granted I was shattered- completely broken hearted, I somehow knew it was for the best. I learned to pick up the pieces, and for the first time in my life, I started to see good qualities within MYSELF.
I had lost weight, I was eating right, I had a job, and I finally had no more CONSTANT worrying. I learned to smile, a real smile. That's when I realized what I needed out of my life. I didn't need someone else to "love me" I needed to love, respect, and accept myself. I could FINALLY be honest with myself, and realize I wasn't as bad as I had thought.
I still struggle with my self-worth and self-image from time-to-time but, I can proudly say I haven't been back to a place THAT dark in well over a year.

Why I blog

"Write your story as it needs to be written. Write it honestly, and

tell it as best you can. I'm not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter."

-Neil Gaiman, English author of graphic novels and science

fiction

"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit 

down at a typewriter and open a vein."

-Walter "Red" Smith, American Sportswriter

Writing has been a crucial outlet for me since a rather young age. It has allowed me to be open, honest, and let everything out, without ridicule. It has allowed me to escape my reality; to escape the yelling & the drunken threats.The ability to open that vein and just write, honestly saved my life more than once. I was able to be me, and vent without anyone telling me I was wrong, or seeking attention. Those blank pages accepted my anger, hostility and allowed me to free my mind of that, even if just for awhile. No matter if it were just a sentence or a couple of pages, it ALWAYS helped.

Sadly, a few years ago, I let someone take over my life and make me lose my passion for everything, unfortunately, writing included. I abandoned my writing, and soon my life had spiraled out of control from a mental stand point. I had hit my breaking point. With not being able to express myself freely in the only way I knew, I had been overtaken by depression, anxiety, and just plain hatred. Honestly, and not for the first time, I had wanted to die. I couldn't handle not having some sort of outlet.

Luckily, with the help of medication, Brett, and my daughter, I have found my passion again; a passion for many things at that. With that being said, I have also recently made a vow to myself to keep writing, no matter how silly it may seem to find relief in a pen and a sheet of paper. 

With love,

Rachel Nicole <3