What If I Stopped Beating the Shit Out of Me?
What if I stopped obsessing about my weight gain? What would I do with all that mental time between my ears? How could I condemn my behavior, my actions, my body, my self worth?
What would happen if I gave myself a break? What if I was as loving, kind, and emotionally generous to myself as I am to my dearest friends? If Amanda told me that she was disgusted with herself and couldn’t stop eating and hating herself for eating, what would I say to her? It wouldn’t be what I tell myself, that’s for certain. I tell myself I’m a weak failure, undeserving of anything positive until I get back on the path of healthy eating and fitness.
On the other hand, I would tell Amanda that her pandemic response is perfectly understandable and relatable. I would suggest that of all the comforting substances that she could’ve turned to during her profoundly painful and difficult isolation, food is probably the least harmful in the long run, and I might point out that choosing alcohol or drugs would’ve left her in a far more unhealthy state by now. “Yeah,” she would respond, “but at least I’d be THIN!” And then we would laugh, and move on.
Laugh, and move on.
Perhaps I’ll stop negging myself, nagging myself, and being so cruel to me. It certainly doesn’t help! Maybe I’ll try treating myself like I treat Amanda: with love. It certainly couldn’t hurt, right?
