Growing up, I was constantly bullied and harassed, mostly about my weight, but also about things I liked. Here’s a list of things I learned.
- Pretty people are scary. Their size doesn’t matter. Pretty people are more likely to turn you away. This applies to the family unit as well.
- Pretty skinny people are absolutely terrifying.
- Don’t trust pretty skinny people.
- Popular people are right out! These people are mostly made up of pretty skinny people.
- Average looking skinny people can be scary too.
Short list. But this makes me sad. I know there are plenty of nice pretty skinny people out there. There are pretty skinny people who love me. I am afraid of them because so many people like them have hurt me in the past. I suppose what I’m trying to say is please be kind to everyone. People may annoy you, and you may burn bridges. God knows I’ve done it. Try to build some new bridges by being kind to them. And tell people they’re beautiful. Always. Because if I’m honest with myself, that’s what I want to be told. That I’m beautiful. And in the past year and a half, I’ve just wanted to be left alone. I only want people around me that genuinely care about me. I’ve wanted to be myself, whatever kind of chaotic spirit that may be, and screw whoever doesn’t like it. I spent ten years of my life trying to be something I’m not. It was ten years spent in misery and more self loathing than I could ever imagine. I’m curt. I’m blunt. I’m not good at social situations. I’m not tactful. I’m sarcastic I will be brutally honest. I can’t sugar coat anything. I cuss ALOT. This is me, this is who I am, and if you can’t accept that, I don’t need you in my life. I may seem like a complete and total unloving bitch, but nothing is farther from the truth. I love and try to accept every person I meet. Sometimes that doesn’t happen right away. Sometimes it does happen right away, and something goes wrong further down the road. Sometimes shit happens and we go our separate ways and we come back together. And I’m learning to accept that that happens. And I’m becoming happy with it! Not too long ago, a friend blocked me because he got pissed off at what I’d said. Did he have a right to be pissed off? Sure. Was I trying to hurt him? No, but the truth can hurt sometimes. Was blocking me a bit over the top? Maybe. Did I give a fuck? Fuck no! Because if I truly meant something to him, we’d have talked about it, apologized, and been good. Or, talked about it, apologized, and gone separate ways. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m not sure where this blog post is going. It’s alot of stuff I needed to get off my chest. I started feeling very cold towards people. Untrusting. Very untrusting, and alot of the time, I wanted to trust people. So badly. I always would trust a bit in the beginning, and then not too far into any friendship, I would clam up. I’d be afraid to express how I felt. (FEAR!) Afraid to express fear. Go me. Sometimes it would come to a head and other times I would be able to beat it all back down, and never reveal the pain and fear I felt inside. Everytime I would pray for the latter, since usually if things came to a head, I would just announce how fearful and mistrusting of people I am, and the person would be taken aback and insulted. Few people would understand how I felt, and sometimes even then they were put off by my extreme emotions. (Helloooo, bipolar disorder. It can be SUCH an asshole.) I’ve never been able to get away with nothing bubbling out and being talked about. A few times I’ve been able to go “So. My head is crazy. Please tell me you don’t hate me.” I’ve gotten a few good responses to that, but most of the time, it has devolved into nothingness, and the friendship has ended or become very strained. Someday, someone will come along that I can trust perfectly from beginning to end. Someone I’ll never have doubts about. Until then I will continue to live with this nightmare inside my head of being lost and forgotten. Alone. Hated for who I am and what I look like, what I love, how I love, who I love. Knowing how precious life is and trying to tell people how much they mean to me before one of us leaves this world for forever. This last one apparently makes people uncomfortable or something.
I met a couple of celebrities at a convention this past weekend. I thought meeting Stephen Amell would be magical. It wasn’t nearly as magical as meeting Tony Curran who played Vincent in Vincent and the Doctor. I have to say something about that for just a moment. That episode of Doctor Who rocked my world in a way I never thought possible. It opened up to me that this shit has been going on for alot longer than I thought. It showed me that someone could actually portray how I was feeling, much in the same way that Karl Urban visually, audibly portrayed the tragic loss of a sibling in the Extended Edition Return of the King when Eomer finds Eowyn on the battle field. She DID survive but that initial thought and idea… Someday, maybe, he’ll get to read this and know how much that scene has helped my grieving process with my own sister’s death. Otherwise, I have to pay $55 to talk to him. *sigh* Anyway, Mr. Curran’s work has had such a profound effect on me, JUST in that ONE show alone. I cheer for him in Defiance. He’s supposed to be not a good guy… but I still cheer for him. I cheered for Khan you guys! Anyway, I walked up and apologized for being broke so I couldn’t even get a lean in shot with him… But I needed to tell him how much his work meant to me. And he understood! And said so many people don’t understand mental illnesses and we got interrupted by someone paying for my lean in shot!!! And if I hadn’t already been high on Xanax, I would have cried about it. I’m crying about it now!!! I was so happy. Then I posted it to twitter and tagged him. and he retweeted it!! Oh my gosh! He made my day. My month. My YEAR! And in the picture you can’t tell where his hair ends and mine begins. Ginger Power hour indeed.
Update: Earlier today, he tweeted to me: “hey Chelsea lovely to meet you and am very happy your feeling better, stay strong sister, you got this.” I had just woken up from a weird dream about my sister and various other things. I started crying when I read it.
Ever plateaued on something? I have recently. It didn’t take long. Ugh. This is going to be a little whiny. Maybe I’ll try to wax inspirational or something. Living with mental disorders is difficult. Hell, living with one mental disorder is difficult, let alone four like I have. Top it off with some lovely thyroid and pancreas issues and we have a really big… hot mess. Not to mention my mom said I probably inherited her degenerative back disorder. She also was diagnosed with RA and Lupus. I am sad. I love my momma. Even though she drives me crazy in all the ways mommas drive their children crazy. Mom, if you’re reading this, don’t flip out, please. Otherwise I will make my teenage years look like a Caribbean cruise just to be spiteful.
Actually, dear reader, if anyone is actually reading this, check out danceswithfat.wordpress.com. She’s amazing. She helps me alot. I still suffer from some body image issues but I’m getting better. For example, I forgot my overshirt for dance the other night, and didn’t realize it until I was halfway through class. I also didn’t lose my damn mind. These are all good things.
Some positives I’ve noticed within the dance community: People are mostly supportive of whatever you do. I’ve had many supporters so far and it’s great. I haven’t had anyone get nasty with me about my body and my choice of dance style. I think this is awesome. I know those people are out there, but I feel confident that I have some people that will fucking roll them if they say anything nasty. I really love my dance community, even if some people scare the shit out of me.
I’m tired lately… Maybe that means I should dance more? Who knows. Anyway, the week after the fucking week from hell was alot better. The steps are still eluding me and there’s a feis in, oh hm a month. Yay. I might have to skip it. =P Also, I want a wig. I had a dream someone was giving me a wig and I’ve been under that impression ever since. >.> I’m not sure there was a point to this post.
Tonight was awful for me. My anxiety was turned up to 11 and even after two xanax I was only Captain Jack Sparrow esque for maybe 30 minutes before my mind wound itself back up again. I went to dance HOPING to chill it out. It started freaking out because I couldn’t remember steps. Then when the other two got the trebles down and I didn’t, and they started learning St. Patrick’s day I desperately tried to remind myself that they had previous dance experience so OF COURSE they know St. Patrick’s Day. It didn’t work. I felt awful and useless and like I never wanted to step foot inside a dance studio again ever. Why? Why the hell am I doing this? Not to mention I feel absolutely awful about my body. Ashamed. I am. And I have tried so many things and I can’t lose the weight. Finally I found something that helps but it’s slow and I’m frustrated. I want to crawl into a corner and fucking cry my eyes out. My teacher kept saying, “Good job!” after I’d fumble steps. I kept calling him a liar. I might owe him an apology or ten.
But then… My friend called The Velveteen Rabbit Dancer and I might’ve cried alot at that but for a different reason. I love The Velveteen Rabbit.
I need a velveteen rabbit in a general Irish dance dress now.
Tonight was the first night back at dance class. I finally invested in a pair of dance sneakers and I loooove them! I owe my dance teacher more than just a Bloody Mary now. I need to get my prescription filled for my memory pillzzz. Yeah my brain just sucks that much. In any case it was a great night for me mostly because I didn’t limp out of there but my stamina has slacked off so I was breathing heavy and couldn’t remember steps. I came home and was happy! It was implied there’d be hard shoe going on soon. =D I’m going to kill myself doing this but I can’t think of a better way to die.
Also on the health front we have pinpointed my weight problem. Turns out dear old mumsie passed me her insulin resistant system along with a degenerative back disorder. Yay. I have work ahead of me.
Ten Rules For Fat People
I enjoyed reading this article. It’s the second place I’ve seen the affirmation that weight loss works only 5% of the time. I enjoy this concept. I mean. I don’t want to say that it’s cop out but it makes me feel better that any weight loss I’ve done hasn’t worked. It’s not going to make me stop dancing, or walking or anything like that. In fact, I discovered walking trails around my apartment the other day, and it’s actually quite beautiful back there. I can’t wait for the fall. I might go walk everyday. Not to mention when my kiddo starts school, I’ll be walking to go pick him up everyday.
Dance should be starting up again soon and I can’t freaking WAIT. Seriously. I really miss it.
I’m in love with this article
Not only is this spot on to how I feel ALL the time, but it also is about dance which is super cool. Granted it’s about Irish dancing but whatever. The only thing it doesn’t really address is how you feel in front of people that you know for a fact are better than you. I had to make people endure watching me three times… I mean. Eh! Each time there was SOMEONE in the audience that could dance better than me. In any case, I feel a bit less apprehensive about new people in class. There was one girl that came that was awesome and heavy set and she made me feel a million times better. She came all of one time. D= I love dancing. I hate the mind games that come with it. And by that I mean the games that my mind plays on me, or rather itself… Not mind games someone in dance puts me through. I’m not trying to say awful things about anyone, okay?! Don’t take my words out of context.
Class tonight was tiring and was really alot like a regular class. I hurt like hell. It didn’t help that my house ate my dance shoes. Yes, they are no where to be found so I had to use an old pair that are really uncomfortable. I hate them. =( Sort of hoping the month off will be helpful to my poor ankles. D= I’m rather irritated with my house for eating my shoes. Now I have to buy a new pair. =( It’s kind of good because now I can purchase a pair of Hullachan’s that have a wide foot option. Yay!!! And probably a softer sock. Even more yay! And fortunately there’s no more dance until after the end of July so I can use birthday money to buy new shoes! Hooray! but I’m still pissed that my house ate my shoes.
The wonderful woman who writes Dances With Fat (danceswithfat.wordpress.com) wrote this blog post. http://danceswithfat.wordpress.com/2013/06/19/ama-says-obesity-is-a-disease/ It makes me feel better especially since my dismal trip to the endocrinologist. I didn’t blog about it. It makes me entirely too angry. No one needs to read that. It’s better to read someone getting mad about people stealing their pictures and removing the watermark on them. (I’m looking at you, Bloggess) Anyway! I feel that her ideas have some merit. I come from a family where most everyone is large, except for those select few willing to practically starve themselves into oblivion. I’ve been on an eating plan, and tracking what I eat. I eat less than 2,000 calories and exercise at least a little bit everyday. I’ve been trying to swim since it’s a really good work out even just doing leisure swimming. We’ll see how it goes. I’m not convinced. I’m convinced that there’s something screwed up in my body chemistry. At least here I have a voice, unlike the fucking doctor’s office.