Even this little connection makes my heart skip a beat
Then my head lands on your shoulder
As my eyes begin to flutter shut I hear you whispering to me, telling me that I’m beautiful
It’s so late but now you have my attention once again
Your soft, tender fingers find the patch of skin showing from my slightly lifted shirt
Your lips touch mine and I know whatever happens here I am in the arms of someone who cares about me and I care about them
…As I lie with my head against your perfectly sculpted, bare chest, listening to your heart beat fast, I can’t help but think *was this just a dream?*
It was so perfect. You are so perfect. I’ve waited so long to be this close to you. Am I only imagining you lying next to me in the dim light wrapped in a mess of blankets? Or is this reality…are you really here? On Valentine’s Day? True bliss…
Being alone leads to feeling lonely. Feeling lonely leads to becoming emotional. [For me] becoming emotional leads to stress eating. Stress eating leads to me feeling bad about my body. Feeling bad about my body makes me embarrassed to present myself to people I wish to ‘impress.’ Being embarrassed to present myself to others leads me to being alone. Being alone leads to _________
I think you get the gist. The cycle always comes full circle…
I’ve been feeling a bit lonely of recent. But the strange thing is that I haven’t wanted to interact with people to avoid being alone. So does this make me hypocritical and lack self determination to make myself feel better? I don’t want to talk to people on the phone. I don’t want to hang out with the people who seem to want to hang out with me (tinder ‘friendships’ so I’m not sure how to make this work out…more on those another time :/ ), I don’t want to skype friends from home, I don’t want to reply to people’s texts. And I don’t really know why. I’ve been enjoying the time that I have spent on my own, but I have not enjoyed feeling lonely and depressed.
I think that I would LOVE to have a movie night with an attractive and sweet guy who lives near by…but then I think about it more and would I really rather just stay home and bake? I think that I want to talk to old friends…but then I think about it and would I really rather explore outside on my own while the weather is still decently nice? Would I rather eat lunch by my lonesome by the lake instead of talking to my mom? Would I rather sit on my futon and watch “Grey’s Anatomy” and get emotionally invested in that instead of describing my own emotional rollercoaster to someone else? I think yes, yes I would. I don’t want to put on an act and tell everyone that I “love it here” and “I’m so happy that I made this decision” or that “everything is going exactly as planned and it is all just sunshine and rainbows.” If I knew that someone really wanted to know and understand the trials and tribulations that go into each and every day up here on my own, then maybe, just maybe I would be willing to talk to them, but I know most people just want to hear that I’m happy and enjoying myself. Which I am…but there is OH so much more.
Nonetheless I did enjoy my day on my own, decorating my apartment
Where did everybody get this assumption that I am so incredibly skinny? Is it because I am the shortest in my class? I was always the smallest girl on the playground. I was first in height order lines. I was born 2 1/2 months early. I started out smaller than everyone else. But does this mean that I still have to be skinny? I feel fat. I feel out of shape. Following Thanksgiving I feel even worse about my body than I did just a week ago. Will I disappoint everyone when they find out I am no longer skinny? Will I shatter their expectations? I am no longer the little girl that they pictured in the past. I am not the smallest one. I am no longer what everyone thinks I am. I feel bad about myself and I don’t want others to look at me differently, but I know that I am different from the past.
Expectations suck. There’s no way to hide that fact. I know that I am seen as skinny, smart and strong. But I am NONE of those! It is amazing how people view you even when you think they know you really well. They make their assumptions and stick by them. They tell others about them and pretty soon everyone views you that way. Just because I did well in school doesn’t mean that I am naturally smart or that I enjoyed school. I hated school for that matter. I absolutely dreaded going on a daily basis. And I am not smart. I had to work so hard to get the grades that I did. I am horrible at memorizing dates, facts and rules. I worked long hours each night to get the information into my brain. But now if you asked me a question about Calculus or the Presidents there is only a slight possibility that I will have any remote idea of what you’re talking about. Yet, all the time I would get the question “Why do you love school?” Well, shocker! I don’t. I never did. I am not what everyone thinks and it makes life even harder to live. I am not only upsetting myself but everyone else around me too. And if you think I’m strong just because I try and be helpful to those around me and tell them that they will get through the tough times…there is a light at the end of the tunnel…right? Yea, well I have a hard time believing that for myself. So does this make me a hypocrite? I make other people stronger and see the positives, but I can’t do that for myself. I am one of the weakest people I know in all truth. I cry when people are upset with me. I lack a thick skin. I cry alone. I can’t voice my problems or struggles except through writing. I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. My thoughts go towards actions I hoped I would never think again. Yet I’m the strong one? I’m able to help myself…huh? I don’t fill the shoes that everyone has built for me. I do not live up to any of the expectations people have. People don’t see me hurting. They don’t see me breaking. They don’t see my sadness. Not because it isn’t present, but instead because they have their shield up to block what they don’t want to see. Life is so hard to live like this…
You know that moment when you are shopping with someone and they continue to pick out clothes for you to try on and you continue to say no? Eventually it comes to the point where you start to feel bad (at least I do), and feel that soon you should agree to try on the article of clothing even if you really are not a fan.
This afternoon my mom, sister and I were at the mall. This exact thing happened and I was guilted into trying on the worst selection in the store. It wasn’t ugly, in fact I really liked it, but I knew that the moment I put it on I would hate myself. And that I did indeed. It happened to be one of those body tight dresses…with STRIPES. If I was someone else this may not have bothered me, I may not have thought twice about trying it on. But it is me. And it affected me. I know that stripes do not flatter my figure and make me feel awful about myself. I know that there are much better things (black in particular) that make me feel at least a little more comfortable in my body. But of course the stripes are what I agreed to. The stripes were what my mom said “Oh, but it will look so cute! Don’t you think so?” The stripes were what I had to put on and look at myself in. I saw everything. I hated everything. The stripes extenuated exactly what I despise about my body. My hips. My stomach. Every little inch of fat could be seen. Every curve. Ever insecurity.
I know that if I had been alone in the dressing room (without my family waiting outside the door) I would have stared at myself for much, much longer. But since they were out there I knew that I couldn’t. I couldn’t take the time to pick apart every problem, but I surely saw plenty. I could have cried, but I refrained. I could have taken a picture to look at and remind myself of these emotions and thoughts, but thank goodness that I did not. This dress reminded me how much I hate my body. It reminded me how upsetting it is to see pictures from a few years ago and see how much skinnier and in shape I was. It was an awful reminder of the fact that when I went to the doctor on Thursday I weighed in at more than I have ever weighed before. It reminded me that I am fat. I feel awful about myself and this dress sure as hell dropped those feelings even more than before. I hate myself and I hate my body. I hate stripes. I hate that dress. I hate that I said “yes”.
Eating disorders are some of the scariest things that I see or read about on a day to day basis. Being a dancer the topic of food, body image and disordered thoughts is about as common as that of what the french words themselves mean. Dancers and skaters have it harder than any other sports in my opinion based on the fact that we wear body tight clothing, get judged on how we look (supposedly it is on how our body moves, but it ultimately comes down to how your personal body image projects across to the audience or judges), and we stare at ourselves on a daily basis in a mirror or through photographs and videos to judge ourselves and our performances. I know that I have never had too great of a personal self image. I have never had anything as extreme as an eating disorder, but my thoughts have come on the verge and I judge myself when looking in a mirror various times throughout each day. I worry about how I look. I worry about my weight. I worry about how my body is portrayed to the public. I worry about way too much and weight and body image are a huge part of my daily worries. I wish I were skinner, healthier, more in shape, had less fat on my body, had less arm muscle, had thinner legs, had a thigh gap. These are the thoughts which are constantly running through my head every time I come across a mirror and it really scares me. I am scared of what these thoughts could turn into and what they are doing to me right now. I am constantly comparing myself to other people, pictures, or descriptions of others, wishing that I could somehow look like them at the end of the day. I know that I am not as beautiful as I wish I were. I don’t try as hard as some people though. I don’t have to have the most expensive clothing and I don’t have to wear makeup. But when I do do these things I finally feel a little better. My self esteem rises a bit. But I don’t want to have to do these things to feel good about myself. I wish I had a positive self image and I wish I could portray that through my aura and people could feed off of it. Instead I am surrounded by others who feel this same way. Some of my friends from dance have lost weight, are trying to get more in shape, or are constantly discussing their food choices and clothing sizes with me. This fuels desires inside of me that need to escape and I start to get more focused on these topics in my life as well . I am scared of what I will become. I am scared of how new people will influence me when I leave the people I am use to being around once I head off to college. I am so fricken scared and so unsure of what to do.
The other day I was in my neighbors house and saw a book by the title “A Parents Guide to Beating a Teenage Eating Disorder.” This in and of itself scares me. Their daughter is 12 or 13 years old and she is already thinking this way. She is already manifesting these habits into her life. I want to talk to her. Help her. I want to be a support system to her so that she doesn’t get worse. She is one of the most beautiful teens that I have ever seen. She is so young. So much is ahead of her and I don’t want to see her get destroyed by these thoughts as well. This also though made me think of me and my situation. Do my parents even know how I feel about myself? They are always cracking jokes pertaining to my size and the fat on my stomach. Do they realize that these hurt me so much? The other day when I was barely eating I finally was feeling good about myself. I finally felt a little bit skinnier and more in shape. This past summer I barely ate for a solid 10 days and it was the best I had ever felt. I had dropped about 6 pounds and felt so fantastic, but then I knew I had to stop. My mom was back in town after being on vacation and I knew she would get on my case about my eating habits and how they had changed when she was gone. And you see the problem is when I don’t eat and then I start to eat again I bloat so badly that I am now embarrassed to look at pictures from that vacation she and I took once she got back in town. I pick apart those pictures so critically when I look back on them based on how bad I looked. I just someday want to understand where these thoughts are coming from and how to destroy them. I want to feel beautiful without taking drastic measures, but I have yet to figure out how.