The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Monday, June 04, 2018
There once was a girl who was lost. She knew who she was but couldn't remember. Each piece of her life felt jagged and uncomfortable. She tried to get back to her former self, but attempts dried up quickly. Futile. No one understood , everyone seemingly tolerant to this loss of identity and happiness.
She was an adept storyteller. She had been telling herself the same stories... the same lies... for years.
They became her truth.
"You are too fat for someone to love you".
"Your friends don't want to spend time with you".
"You aren't worthy of being loved as you are".
"The only worth you contribute is when you are doing things or achieving things".
"You will never be enough".
You see, she had built her life on "doing", not "being". Attempts at simply "being" had left to "doing nothing" which didn't quite seem the point.
At some point, she settled for less. Less than she wanted, imagine, deserved. Settled into a life that was accomplished, but empty, devoid of meaning outside of accomplishing things.
She went from a size 14 to 24, nearly 100# difference.
Health problems plagued her. Her ankles, her knees, her sleep... none of it felt right. She knew life wasn't meant to be this way... whatever life she had left.
She felt sad most of the time. Depressed and anxious were familiar companions.
Every next day seemed like a better day to try again, or start over.
She was pretty tightly wrapped up in her lonely story, like a cocoon. It had kept her safe on some level and completely harmed her on another.
Self inflicted wounds. At least no one else had the chance to hurt her then. That would be more painful, and she couldn't deal. She had lost herself both in a moment and over the course of the last 5 years.
She had sleeping moments of insight, big efforts that quickly faded. Attempts made and forgotten.
Grand gestures but no authenticity.
It had mattered, but not enough. Not enough to overcome the fear of failing again. She had been a failure and she would rather stay stuck... self sabotage... settle... than try again.
Because to regain all the weight after losing it would be intolerable.
But this moment was also intolerable. This feeling of the loss of identity... and the acknowledgement she had simply been tolerating herself was intolerable.
What happened? How did this happen? Why? Why did she allow this unraveling of her life to occur?
There were no answers. Only questions with impossible stakes.
She knew she needed to rewrite her story. Or allow her story to be lived as intended. "You have written and redeemed my story". ~Lauren Daigle
So to begin again is a story about Redemption. Forgiveness. Patience. Kindness. It's about acceptance and change. It's about trying again... facing my fears... unsettling and unraveling.
You see, this story is my story. I gave up on myself long ago. It was too hard, too big, too much. But the problem is your problems follow you... they don't just disappear.
Problems need perspective. Why, of all of the things in the world, did I get stuck with weight and body image? Why? There is no good answer.
So perspective. Is it a problem or an opportunity to take one of the last socially unacceptable conditions and challenge perception and reality?
All I've ever wanted was to just fit in, but I've always stood out. It's nothing I've desired, it's just happened. Maybe it is time to embrace.
I get the feeling there will be no achievement, instead it will be a "work towards". Working towards a vision of how I want my life to be. A new story to be told, a story to be lived, not just tolerated.
There once was a girl who was lost, but found herself again. As her life unraveled and she was hanging by a thread, she paused a took a breath. She still didn't understand, but she didn't try to either. Instead, she sat in neutrality knowing the only way out is through.
And so it begins again...