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Wednesday, November 12

Finding Atlantis

I’m starting to feel like I am searching for the lost city of Atlantis. A magical place where everything is beautiful and perfect. Where everyone is happy.

I’m starting to realize that such a place might not be hidden after all, only found by the bravest and most courageous explorers, those worthy of finding the hidden treasures there. I’m starting to realize that maybe it’s not there at all, but just a legend, or a mirage.

I have been open and honest about the fact that I am struggling right now with body image and combatting my body dismorphia. No, I have not been diagnosed by a professional, but I KNOW something is wrong when an otherwise commonly intelligent person looks in the mirror after weighing a few ounces more and literally sees how much more fat there is. It is not at all possible or rational but somehow it is real and happening for me. Every day all day I am critiquing every square inch of myself, much worse then in my fat days when I just didn’t give a shit because I looked horrible anyways every day.

WTF.

This week I worked with a substitute teacher that has gone through an unspeakable tragedy. More on that later. When I got home I cried and cried for two reasons. One was that the horrible, horrible thing that happened to his family is something that no one should ever have to think about let alone live through. And as someone with anxiety and emotional errs, I just couldn’t process spending a day with this strong person. The second reason I cried is because this person smiled all day long…. SMILED!! It is enough that they woke up and actually lived another day through it, but laughed and smiled and was inspirational to others. I felt like a soda pop bottle all day ready to blow just from being so close to someone so powerful. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I cried.

Then today, damn it to hell, was a girl on the Today Show that was in the Boston Marathon bombing and lost her goddamned leg and she was laughing about it…LAUGHING! She wrote a break up letter to her leg. She wrote with a magic marker, “It’s not you it’s me.” ON HER LEG! I saw this young, blond beauty, strong and healthy with a firm runners body, who was now going to be a runner with one leg, and she was laughing just for being alive.

So instead of feeling inspired, I feel even more shitty. Because in my mind I have “problems” and “body issues” when in reality I have none.


I contacted my nutritionist this week along with a friend from my group and asked about classes for people with body image issues. I am in search of a support group for those that are past the initial weight loss surgery ups and downs. It’s been nearly two years, I know how to navigate the lap band at this point and am now walking others through it. What I don’t know quite how to navigate is me. The me in THIS body. And I need a map.

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