There are a few things on my mind recently. Everyday, I become more ~human~ than I was the day before. That is not to say I never felt emotions – I did, and very strongly. I still do. But everyday I am figuring myself out.
I feel ashamed to admit that I have spent half my life abusing alcohol and cigarettes. (That which makes you seem so cool when you’re younger). That, I spent more than half my life abusing my body with terrible food and thinking that I could do it without consequence.
I never stepped on a scale, I never thought about what I was eating and how it would affect my body. I always hated the fact that I was overweight but never took responsibility for what I was doing to myself.
I not only abused myself with food but with sex, alcohol, cigarettes and drugs. I could sleep with someone and not feel a thing for them. And I was doing it on a weekly basis. I learned how to build my emotional wall because of the experiences I had had in the past. I hated living that way. I was desensitized by love or the wanting thereof. I did not love myself either.
The last year has brought about the best in me. It’s like I can finally be accountable for, take responsibility for and understand that there are consequences to my actions. I’ve started drinking a lot less, stopped smoking (as much), no drugs in a year and a half. I am conscious about what I eat and although I am still prone to binge eating for a day or more, I can look at that experience not thinking I was invincible, but rather that that was not a good decision.
Regardless of all the progress I can be proud of, I still face the same demons as others. I feel like a failure when I can’t stick to things. I went out on Saturday night and got drunk and bratty with my friends, apparently embarrassing myself, too. Slip ups such as those make me angry at myself. Eating that McDonalds yesterday and putting on 1.5 kg of the 4 kg I’d recently lost makes me hate myself.
Maybe I still have a self sabotaging attitude.