I refuse to capitalize it and thus give the word more powerful than its worth.
Its a manipulative tricky a**hole. Sometimes its obvious…you know, the heart-pounding, breath quickening, frozen in one spot fear. Other times it manifests as mental self abuse.
Sometimes it rouses its friend the Gremlin and taunts “Hey let’s remind her that she’s different! That she can’t overindulge just-that-once b/c it’ll show up on her hips/stomachs/ass/thighs the next day…that she cares about things like proper alignment and has stopped wearing heels as a result..that its beyond difficult to find clothes that will fit her strangely shaped body…tehehe lets put those reminders on both track and cd repeat!”
Sometimes you find yourself sobbing on the floor of your apartment, commando, clothes scattered about, sobbing uncontrollably because you’re fat, ugly, not good enough, not pretty enough, not creative enough, not fun enough, not sexy enough.
When really you are just scared of the unknown.
Last year was so amazing…is it possible for this year to live up? You broke a board for God’s sake but you had those you know the most there to support you. This year, you’ll be watching when in reality, the scary truth that you hate to even admit to yourself nevermind the world is that you need to break that board again, injured wrists and all. You need that proof because the memories just aren’t cutting it. And because you’ve grown tremendously but also backtracked and you just need it.
Two weeks ago you were looking slim and sexy…now your legs are tree trunks and your stomach looks like you’re 4 months pregnant. <–note: arbitrary length of time chosen there. Seriously…who knew thighs could spread out this much? And where did my abs/calf/arm muscles go? How did they disappear so quickly?
Like I said, mental self abuse.
And as you are laying (lying? I never know the damn difference so someone help a girl out…) there with these thoughts burning through your head and your face smooshed into the most likely hasn’t been cleaned in a month or more carpet another voice comes up and says, “wait a second…do you realize how ridculous this all is?”
All of a sudden there’s a sassy thirteen year old (or gay best friend…you choose) talking back to the mean girl.
She says, “So what? they love you for you!”
She says, “Go look at that block…let the feelings of joy overwhelm you.”
She says, “This too will pass….remember Lissa wrote that the average feeling only last 90 sec.”
She says, “You’re not perfect and its ok.”
She says, “You are good enough, pretty enough, smart enough.”
She says, “There will be someone else there who is fatter than you…and you’ll think she looks prettier and she will because she thinks so.”
She says, “Change is good…and its not like you’ll be alone.”
She says, “Its about spending time together, not having the best outfits.”
She says, “Remember how effing ridiculous they all are?! That is why you love them…that is why you feel at home among them. Because they are your tribe.”
The tears stop flowing. The anger diminishes. She knows they will love her. She’s learned she can self-comfort. The tree trunks are still there but she’s at peace.
After all, it was only fear talking.