I can’t stop my brain. I tried….

Well. I guess the extent of my trying is whining and bitching on Tumblr and then sleeping when no one listened.
I also attempted to drown myself in TV and homework but they didn’t work either.
I’m miserable and this is a special sticky, molasses type of miserable that I can’t unstick.
My old ways of “coping” would have been to hurt myself and take too many pills. I’d sleep all day and night and eventually check into the hospital.
I have zero desire to do either thing. I know none of it will help me and is more of a colossal waste at this point. This isn’t growth or anything. I knew self injury and abusing pills was bad, I did it anyway. I just need help.
I have so much weighing on me right now that even summarizing it is a heavy task. There’s so much stress to finish up loose ends for the wedding and there’s a lot left and I’m doing it by myself. I feel overwhelmed.
There’s also my classwork. I am trying so hard to stay on top of it but this is the worst time I could be in a class.
I am seriously getting cold feet and I don’t know what to do and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. I have no therapist and no friends. I feel like Chris barely talks with me anymore. Like it’s a chore.
I hate looking at myself. In pictures or the mirror or even a reflection and I’m about to get married and I’m terrified. I hate my hair and my face and my body and everything and I’m not getting any support because I haven’t shared with anyone but…..well I get sad because I feel like my future husband should make me feel good once in awhile and he doesn’t even try. He has to know something is wrong with me right now but I feel like he’d rather not address it and would rather ignore it until it until it resolves itself. How are we going to stay married if we can’t help each other through emotional shit?
I mean, there’s so much going on in my head right now and I just keep breaking down. I’m crying every night.  No one seems to notice. No one seems to care. I feel isolated and ugly and I don’t know how I’m going to go on anymore. I’m not happy. Getting married in two months isn’t going to magically make me happy either.
We have not dealt with our non-existent sex life, which I know has to be bothering him. It’s been almost a year since we had sex last. I think about it and it terrifies me. I’m also scared he’s looking elsewhere. I don’t have anything to go off of but a fear.
These are all things I need to resolve and now!
I need someone now.
I have no one.

I hate myself, especially my body.

I don’t want a perfect body. I know there is no such thing. I’m aware.

I want a body that I like and that I feel comfortable in. I don’t think that’s asking too much, right?

I’m morbidly obese. I’m not lying. I am technically, according to the BMI, morbidly obese. This is not only extremely unhealthy but also a major blow to my self-esteem, self worth, sex life, and ability to show myself in public without being paranoid and depressed. I attribute much of my now life-controlling agoraphobia and social anxiety to how I look.

I feel judged and ridiculed while I’m outside the doors of my apartment. I feel judged and ridiculed inside my apartment. I cannot be comfortable anywhere, at anytime. What do I do when I feel the worst about my body? I eat. And eat. And then I feel sick and guilty. I think of what my mom would say to me if she was here. She’d probably ask me why I was eating, again. She’d tell me to stop snacking. No more sweets or chips. I’d have to revert back to my old ways of hiding food and binging in secret.

Wow, now that I think about it, maybe I do have an eating disorder. No, I’m not anorexic or bulimic but I sure as hell have a horrible relationship with food and with my body. It’s become an obsession, like so much in my life.  I cringe when I see my body, fully clothed or naked, and I want to die. My heart is in poor condition from being overweight as well as from chronic stress and anxiety. I’m only 27 years old and I’ve already had major surgery to remove my gall bladder. I’m probably not too far from being diabetic or having to worry about cholesterol. What sucks about this is knowing I’m not alone. I wish no one else had to experience this but, in this country, there are so many obese young people, it’s scary.

As a child, I was thin and tall. Energetic, lanky, and flexible are perfect descriptive words for myself. I was a dancer, I played kick ball, and loved running around like a crazy nut. Once I hit puberty, around 13, it all began to change. I lost any bit of energy I had. I started gaining weight almost immediately and it seriously depressed me. The boys loved it, of course. I became well endowed in both the front and the back. All I saw was a stomach becoming rounder and love-handles.  Stretch marks and cellulite were terrifying to me and I began covering up my body. I wore baggy clothes and crossed my arms over my stomach at all times. I never worse a swim suit or shorts. My thighs began to painfully rub together. I was falling apart, as far as I was concerned.

My mother has always, and will always, had issues with control. She is obsessive about it. This didn’t stop when it came to my food intake. Once I started gaining weight in middle school, she tried everything she could think of to get me to lose the weight. She’s always claimed it was for my health but I’m not so sure. She embarrassed the hell out of me in public, in front of friends and family, and made me feel guilty for being who I am. I will never forgive her for the way she’s treated me because of my weight. When we went out to eat, she would either order for me or tell me I couldn’t eat something. She’d make remarks like “Should you be eating that?” or “Are you sure you want to order that?”. It made me so self conscious and miserable. My family even took notice of it and told her she should stop. She didn’t. I still feel guilty and like a failure when I’m around my mother.

When I had to start shopping for clothes in the women’s sections and then ultimately the plus sized section, it was over. I was utterly hopeless. I bounced back and forth from not caring and then caring too much. To this day, I hate my body more than anything else. I cannot name one good thing about it.

Blame society, blame my mom, blame men, whatever. It just is and I have to deal with it everyday of my life.