the art of mindbending

the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2

seesaw

“Is fat really the worst thing a human being can be?
Is fat worse than vindictive, jealous, shallow,
vain, boring, evil or cruel? Not to me.” J.K. Rowling

seesaws6

I wish I could believe Rowling.  Body image is something I’ve struggled with since my first recollection in 2nd grade. Although I try to lose weight or be ‘healthier’, I am plagued with the up and down of gaining and losing.  I’ve been on so many types of diets, restrictive and ‘sensible’.

My weight is firmly tied to how I view myself. In a manic depression state, my critical eye/IT is the strongest and most destructive. I can recall countless times in my life, so many conversations, down to what was actually said by strangers, friends and family about my weight. I will n

ot list them here as they are all horrendous and I don’t want to live them again in writing.

In one such seriously down time (think -3 on the mood scale of -3 to +3, I realized that no matter what I did, I slid back to fat, unhealthy habits.   That, since I can remember, I’ve hated my body and this would continue until the day I die.  Even writing this right now makes me tear up.  I will never be comfortable in my own skin.

Ever.

Why is it that we hang so firmly to the negative about ourselves?  Is it our nature to cling to what is bad about ourselves? What others and the media tell us? “If I was 20 lbs thinner…my life would be so much better” and so forth.  On those rare occasions when I can stamp down my critical inner voice, rarely can conjure a  positive statement about my body.  Ignoring the IT is about all I can accomplish, and it is always short-lived.   I fucking hate that.

Below is a poem about my battle with weight. ~ zooey

seesaw

hard wood seat splinters her calloused backside
as the red plank with flaking paint moves up and down
IT peers across the seesaw, grinning, caramel stuck between rotting teeth

every time you go up, I win a little more
bit by bit, or shall I say bite by bite?
you know this will never stop,” IT snickers

up and down, up and down, up and down

Just one nibble today,” IT coos
She gulps down her worth with every swallow

IT nods in sympathy, “you can just stop tomorrow”
no food, a little food, purge food…noithing works
“fuck me,” she whispers

up and down, up and down, up and down

sitting straight on the seat,
hoping to keep her belly from touching her tightening shirt
knowing the size up would be much better anyway
IT giggles and points at stretch marks.

up and down, up and down, up and down

she promises herself to be stronger
to exercise and watch was goes into her mouth

up and down, up and down, up and down

IT laughs at her failures among an audience of onlookers
her body jiggles as the teeter totter slams, then her ass is airborne again
she holds on for dear life, blistering palms

what would happen if she let go?
would the fall kill her?
ould she fly away?
leaving IT to slam back to the dirt?

nothing,” IT says, “nothing will happen, my plump pumpkin

and she pushes off into the sky, believing IT

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7 comments on “seesaw

  1. Jenny Williams
    September 6, 2013

    My whole adult life I’ve been up, and down, and up, and down. I’m almost always either gaining or losing (usually gaining). My sense of how beautiful (or not) I am is almost all tied to what I weigh, what I see in the mirror. I try to believe what others say, but I usually figure they’re just saying it to be nice. That they care enough to lie to me about how I look. Hugs.

    Like

    • Ttrinity
      September 6, 2013

      I understand. I often avoid looking, even a little, at myself in the mirror. I never like what I see and it reminds me of my constant diet failures. It’s demeaning when you catch the quick body look from someone. Not the slow, lecherous look, but the immediate assessment they think you don’t see. The most difficult of body comments, though, are those from family. The ‘just a few more pounds to lose!’ is such a judgment on what they think is a ‘good weight’ for me. Seriously??? I hate that.

      Like

  2. Rory
    September 6, 2013

    I absolutely understand. I’ve got stretch marks on my arms, my legs, my stomach, and my chest. I’ve not been fighting as long as you have, but I fight none-the-less. I wish I could make it better for both of us. I love you, and I pray for us both.

    Like

    • Ttrinity
      September 6, 2013

      Prayers from this end too. It’s been hard to put this blog together and trully cull that poem down to the minimalist feel I like. Lots of thinking about a topic that has plagued my every day existence. Hugs.

      Like

      • Rory
        September 6, 2013

        Hugs.

        Like

      • Anne
        September 6, 2013

        I hate my body. Always have. When I was a kid, I thought I was terribly fat. My mom was constantly bitching at me about how ‘fat’ I was. Funny thing that. When I became an adult in my mid-twenties, I was looking back through some of the pictures of myself growing up. I was shocked at how thin I was! I mean, like model thin! I always believed my mom and thought I was this fat thing!

        I try to avoid looking in the mirror. Especially when I have underwear on and a night shirt. Sometimes I’ll walk by a mirror and without thinking turn to look. I see blubber hanging over my underwear (No need to thank me for the visual.) and I want to puke! I disgust myself. I don’t think I will ever like my body either. It’s gross and ugly!

        Like

      • zooey
        September 10, 2013

        We are cut from a very similar cloth, Anne. I understand what you talk about COMPLETELY. I feel the same way. Hugs.

        Like

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This entry was posted on September 6, 2013 by in Health, Poetry, Self Esteem and tagged , .
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