deardiaryineedtovent

[deardiaryineedtovent]

Personal updates and what-not.

It's never been my intention to whine in this space. I also realize that im literally apologizing to myself, so fuck that. In the real world, what space do i have to whine in? While the whole world comes to me with their goddamned shit, im the only one who cant go to anyone. Not even the closest people. it's sad, in a way, but it has always been like this for me, so no surprise there.

I mean, how do you tell them you just want to vent? That you only need to get it out of you so you dont lose your mind? Not listen to advise, criticize, or demonstrate how much they know.... not to ask for their freaking opinion, just to shut the hell up and take it from me as it comes, as a person should, all ears and with sympathy. And pat me on the back later, and just give me what the fuck I want to hear (which is a simple "it'll be okay" ... even if it's a lie). Im capable of that... why cant everyone else be? Or literallly, ANYONE else?

I reached a point last week when i reached out to an aquaintance and told him I didn't know whether i needed a mentor or a therapist. These words have never left my mouth. Ever. And now they have and the awareness of the implications of that has me on alert..... where am i heading?

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I don't want to be the complainer. Or the toxic one. Im trying to pinpoint where this feeling of demotivation, depression, and general sadness and borderline apathy is coming from, and i feel its from the excessive criticism and devaluation of self coming my way lately.

Tomorrow is a huge day. Im going to speak in front of 100s of people, and the general joy that we ACTUALLY got this far is missing. Like its no big deal. Like everything i do is a mistake, must be improved. And im tired of it. It's so stressful. I dont think ive felt this way since i was 12 or 13..... like nothing i do matters. none of it is important, anyone else can do it better, so the victories and joys of any achievements are invalid. Minor errors however, are picture-framed and critiqued.

I cant feel this way right now. Not after all these years. and everything ive been through. I retreated into my own cocoon back then - i dont know if i can still do that. there's so much doubt and disdain involved that i dont know who i am or what my voice is anymore.

Clean this place up goddamnit.

Get that dress back and stop hearing shit.

Just do me. Stop doing everyone else.

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Fuck this shit.

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I read yesterday that if you clearly write down the problem, you're already halfway to solving it.

I am....blatantly apathetic to everything right now. And its a problem because beyond apathy, all i feel right now is pain. pain inside me like it wants to explode from my eyes. with tears. all. the. damn. time.

I just want him to understand... every time he comes down on me with pressure for work, he kills a piece within me and makes it so so much harder to be productive, or believe in what im doing, that any of this is worth it. My life was never black, even when i had nearly nothing... now, with so much potential and so much possibility, it feels as if its never been blacker. I dont know how much longer I can hold on that way. THAT is not me. Never was. Who I am and who i know myself to be is getting lost in this abyss of hopeless blackness.

I want to say fuck this shit. Really loud. And flip everything over and say screw everything, and walk the hell off in a blaze. I know what's at stake. But i need to hear my own voice in my head. No one elses. Not his. Not anyones. Just mine, because i know im fucking right, and that if anyone can get out of this mess its me. ONLY ME. I can.

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I miss being able to laugh from my heart. I miss being a merry soul.

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Acknowledgement of two things; I have gamed 15 kilos in 2 years. And the bitter reality is that work will always come first.

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I’m going to prove every single one of you motherfuckers wrong. And you’ll apologize. And you’ll beg for my attention.

Bitches.

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‎ ‎   ‎ ‎𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓  𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

‎ ‎ ┈───┈ ┈───┈┈┈───┈ ┈───┈

‎ ‎ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 ⌵

‎ ‎ I believe in myself.

‎ ‎ I am okay.

‎ ‎ Everything turned out better than expected.

‎ ‎ I am safe.

‎ ‎ I am protected.

‎ ‎ I‘m in control, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

‎ ‎ I always get through anything, no matter how tough it is.

‎ ‎ I’m strong and can endure anything.

‎ ‎ I am grounded.

‎ ‎ I attract only what I truly want.

‎ ‎ I know intrusive thoughts hold no power over me.

‎ ‎ I am proud of myself.

‎ ‎ I am at peace with myself and everything around me.

‎ ‎ My desires are apart of me.

‎ ‎ I love myself.

‎ ‎ I am capable of everything I want to do.

‎ ‎ Nothing can hurt me or my loved ones.

‎ ‎ I feel at ease with everything.

‎ ‎ My fears, worries and doubts have no power over me.

‎ ‎ I know my desires are mine; it’s my birthright.

‎ ‎ ┈───┈ ┈───┈┈┈───┈ ┈───┈

‎‎ ‎ 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 ⌵

‎ ‎ These hard times will pass.

‎ ‎ I know these feelings are temporary.

‎ ‎ It’ll all work out better than expected.

‎ ‎ No matter how dark life seems right now, I‘ll end up okay.

‎ ‎ Better things are coming my way.

‎ ‎ I know my desires will be mine; it is my birthright.

‎ ‎ I will get everything I want; it’s inevitable.

‎ ‎ I will be okay.

‎ ‎ My fears will not hurt me or come true.

‎ ‎ I am capable of overcoming this.

‎ ‎ It will all turn out okay.

‎ ‎ I can get through this.

‎ ‎ Life has great things in store for me.

‎ ‎ I got this; I can do anything even if it doesn‘t seem like it.

‎ ‎ ┈───┈ ┈───┈┈┈───┈ ┈───┈

© 2022 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐓 | do not repost, copy, translate, or use any posts on this blog in any way without credit or permission

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Cringe.

A couple of days ago, I made an observation.

My husband subtly implies things about my weight in a way as to not offend, but it is obvious enough that even his diplomacy can’t hide the blatant disapproval of my weight. I don’t think he notices, given he is extremely undiplomatic with himself and his own drawbacks.

Perhaps the other night he took it to a whole new level. In bed, we were talking, where he said (in not so many words) I was hot, but not sexy. Sexiness comes from curves — and I have potential, because I have big boobs and a big butt, but (also in big so many words) everything else is big, and if I were to lose weight, I’d retain the boobs and butt, but then I’d have curves, and that’s sexy. And my butt and boobs were ‘out of control’ because he can’t handle them with one or two hands, since they’re so much.

Let’s say I tried not to cry (I am pmsing like hell this month after all) but I guess he tried to salvage the whole thing by saying if his ex lost weight, she wouldn’t be sexy because she has no boobs, and our other friend wouldn’t be sexy because she has no butt, so I have the best of both worlds, but yeah. Not sexy cos no curves. In his own way, he tried to joke about it and even initiated the intimacy but it’s like a ton of bricks descended on me. If I had a doubt in my mind, that night eradicated it. I am not a physically attractive person anymore.

I’m about 110 kg right now. That’s only 7 kilos away from him…. I see clunks of flesh growing in places and clothes tightening like crazy and my bra size is now a 40-E. I am not happy. I increase by the day and week it seems and I am lost for action. And sad… so very sad, because I’ve never been hateful with myself. And now I am, and all I can think about is OVERHAUL. IMMEDIATELY. Not for him. For me. To feel okay again.

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Well that lasted literally 2 weeks.

And here I am, 2 years later, worse than I was before. Past 100kg, barely able to look at myself in the mirror and — I’ll say this out loud — wondering if my husband hates what he sees as much as I do.

That sounds harsh. But it struck me the other day while I was at home that there have been some alarming expansions in width, and I looked away in shame, anger and disappointment that all this was attached to me. Is it me being paranoid? Or am I did I really become this large? My head, in comparison to the rest of me feels puny. What’s more is that while I was here this weekend in Dubai, shooting a show that I am meant to be a part of, my chin is sinking into my chest and my boobs are literally triple D’s. Not gonna talk about my back too but there is a massive upper body mass — and I also caught my butt moving in the mirrored wall of the Swiss pavilion and nearly wept. Looking at the footage, I found that as much as I loved doing this, I wanted to hide. And I’m terrified of the end result when this stuff goes live.

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It started, albeit slowly.

Minor changes happened:

- I’ve switched out some nasty food with better choices.

- Pre-cooked some things, prepared others

- I’m reading up on my old meal prep ideas.

It seems a little audacious that I’ve taught fitness gurus how to cook healthy and designed their meal plans, and started a degree in nutrition, when I’ve left myself off keltar this long.

These are some of the symptoms I’ve had in the last 24 hours;

- shortness of breath

- extreme fatigue

- pain in my feet and ankles. And joints.

- sore digestive system (but that’s not unusual, given my lifestyle and how I was diagnosed with both IBS and GERD at own stage. If anything, it’s defining GERD being a jerk again).

So dinner tonight consisted of:

- roasted chicken breast

- beetroot

- cucumber

- roasted eggplant

- basic vinegar, salt & onion powder dressing

Ive prepared my breakfast for tomorrow, know what lunch is going to look like, as well as the snack. Let’s see how this goes.

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7 Self Improvement Tips

1. Start today

2. Choose small, short term goals

3. Put one step in front of the other

4. Go easy on yourself

5. Expect to encounter setbacks

6. Keep on going

7. Expect to succeed.

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There’s a closet full of clothes here - they may as well belong to someone else.

I’ve been through this before. Yo-yoing from 50kg to 70kg, back to 60, up to 80... creeping up to 90... back down to 70, and suddenly slamming to 90 again, and creeping up slowly. Is that 100 on the horizon? Looks like it could be...

I don’t really need to step on the scales anymore. I know what I’ll find - I can tell by how ‘unwell’ my clothes fit me and how I always resort to the loose black tank and loose cardigan over leggings, every single day. There’s a closet full of clothes here - they may as well belong to someone else.

And here I am again. The biggest and unfittest I’ve been in literally all my years. And something kind of clicked in my mind — I cant breath anymore. I hide myself like I have something to be ashamed of. I don’t approve of what I see and feel. I hate the pain shooting up my ankles, my back. Why would I live with this, if something can be done?

Why indeed. I’ve done it before - taken care of what I eat, my excercise, my outlook on life. There’s no reason I can’t do this again, even in my very late 30’s, even at this weight, even at this uncanny crossroad, and even with my job that (uncannily) entails food oozing from every direction. I’m all I have, and I’d better start taking care of me. Take care of that thyroid, my artieries, those diseases festering and waiting to explode. Wake up call - while I genuinely feel okay, I know I can’t sustain my slovenly and borederline destructive lifestyle forever without consequences.

Step one? Document everything. Hence this space here. My day 1 starts as soon as I’ve done some bloodwork, and finished my research into the ultimate kind of meal plan. Here we go :)