Moving…Backwards

There are moments, sometimes I can pinpoint the reason and sometimes I cannot, that I hate myself. This self hatred is a deep seated belief I have held for most of my life, and tonight is one of those nights that said hatred is raging through my thoughts and emotions. Tonight I can pinpoint the reason for this hatred. It is multi faceted, but definitely comes down to the fact that, as the title indicates, I have taken large steps backwards in a few areas of my life.

Oh, and comparison. That one gets me every time.

Six months ago I ran a 5K. I literally ran the entire course. It came after four months of discipline, getting up early and hitting the gym to attempt to regain some of my health. At the end of May, I was thrilled to feel like I was on a healthy path for the first time in a very long time.

Then, for reasons that I don’t know–and may never know–a tidal wave of depression came flooding into my life. It beat me down and threatened my very existence. I lost motivation to continue my health journey. The overbearing heat of a Minnesota summer didn’t help much either. I kept telling myself that it would pass…depression, after all, is not a new friend to me, and if history really does repeat itself, this crushing weight of depression would disappear after a time.

Except, here I am, over six months later, and that depression is still hanging on.

Now, it is being fueled by my self hatred because all the hard work I put into my health has been lost and, at the same time, it is fueling the self hatred.

It is a vicious cycle.

Throw in just a short time on Facebook tonight that showed me just how many steps backwards I have taken, and life kind of sucks.

The frustrating thing is I know what it is going to take to get back to where I was. I also know it is possible to achieve that success again–what it’s going to take to look in the mirror and not hate at least the weight of the person looking back at me–yet I’m not sure I will be able to get there again. Depression is one factor; physical pain is another. And throw in a part time job that taxes this unhealthy body and I find myself one, big, unhealthy mess.

Again.

Few have chosen to stick with me on this difficult journey. I don’t blame them, but the fact that I don’t blame them doesn’t take away the sting of their choice to abandon.

In all honesty, so often I don’t want to live this life anymore. Self hatred, I’m sure, factors into that statement as well.

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About becmom45

Wife of one, mom of four, mom-in-law to two, grammy to one precious little boy; lover of snow, autumn, pumpkins, cats, books, baking, Charles Wysocki puzzles, Christmas; honest, raw author who hopes what is written here enlightens and educates those fortunate enough to not understand the demons chronicled.
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