I wrote this week’s blog. And deleted it.
I am struggling.
I want to hide.
I want to numb.
I want to experience nothing.
I want to be at home in my body.
For years, my body has not been home. I do not think this is an unusual sentiment for most women. I do not know what it is like to be at home in my body. I want to feel it. I want to feel grounded and be present with myself. I want to sit with uncomfortable emotions. I want to know what my body needs to be happy and healthy.
I knew the holiday season would be hard for me. It is even more difficult with all these unplanned events occurring. I have been busy. I have been jumping from task to task. Not really sitting at home with myself. I have moments where I feel infinitely confident in my abilities as a person. Those moments are usually followed immediately by an intense wave of self-doubt. Because how can I be confident with a belly like mine? Or with the number on the scale that no one can see, but I’m sure everyone can sense.
For some reason, this body part has a huge impact on my life. On my emotional state, on my self-confidence, on my desire, on…. Everything. I feel like it can and does effect everything I do. I am scared to death of my dietetic internship, because who wants a fat dietitian. I’m so scared that these people will look at me and judge me, based not on my abilities, but on my appearance. And we all know that happens. My worth as a human is lesser in some people’s eyes because of my weight. To them, my intelligence matters not, my opinions matter not, the size of my heart matters not… What matters is the size of my waist.
A new favorite quote of mine is
“Pretty is not the rent you pay for existing on this earth”
Even if I were to believe that with every fiber of my being, would everyone else believe that as well? Our PEOTUS doesn’t believe it? Why should little boys grow up and believe it? Why should little girls?
It has to start with us. And while right now, I do not feel at home in my body and I do not feel that my body is enough for the rent I am charged by some of society. I will continue to push back. I will continue to tell people to mind their own business whenever they feel the need to comment on my weight, or on my eating habits, or on my current need to be on an anti-anxiety medication. It is my life. It is my body.
It is mine.
It is home.