It’s Complicated, My Relationship With My Body

You remember when you had the option to choose “it’s complicated” as your relationship status on FB? Or maybe it’s still there, no idea. Yeah, that came to my mind tonight while I was walking and thinking things, like I usually do while moving. It made me think of my body, or more how my relationship with my body has always been a bit complicated.

It goes to my relationship with food too, but I feel that those two are basically the same, at least sometimes.

I was walking, fairly fast and thinking how this can be my best when it’s only four years since I ran my strongest Ultra Marathon. And how I build myself physically from close to zero to that in only couple of years. Four years feels such a tiny amount of time that it just doesn’t make any sense when I think about it.

Around that time I was also in the best shape in how I felt about my body in general. I was strong and still curvy in the right places to me. I was at least 20kg lighter than I am now with my little over 90kg. Which is the heaviest I’ve ever been. And I can tell that it’s a lot to carry.

You feel this amount of excess on you in too many ways. I’m also in that age that things like this really make a difference. I remember how one day few months ago I was walking the stairs to home after work, and I realised how out of breath I was. It scared me and made me feel super bummed out. I was just thinking how did this happen.

I was really active kid, and I loved to move my body all the way to my early adulthood and then it just stopped. I remember noticing that if I don’t move my body or do nothing, I gain weight really easy. But I was also battling one of the worst depressions at that time too. And when I get depressed, I eat. Those two go together way too well in me. And my poor body went up and down while I went through my depression.

That’s how it’s always been. My body has to try to hold on while my head is having it’s “moment”. It’s gone from healthy and active to overweight and sluggish so many times that it’s scary to really think back. And now I’m in that overweight and sluggish in a way I’ve never been and while I got tired of my overall nothingness, I got tired of feeling shitty about my body too. But it’s not any easier to be patient with your body than your mind, probably even harder as you really have to do the work yourself. I can ask for help but I still have to move my body myself and think what I eat.

And it’s funny how we view our self worth through how our body looks, and how we think others look at us. On my walk I remember how I viewed my self worth through how someone else wanted me, in a sexual way, when I was younger. It feels so crazy but it felt really normal back then, in my early twenties. Basically if someone wanted to have sex with you, then you were something. In my case, that kind of behavior lasted really short amount time, which I am extremely happy about. But it doesn’t change the fact that we all still in our adult years have moments when we think our worth through the idea of someone wanting us sexually.

Even as a 35 year old woman I have moments when I think if that someone thinks of me, or if that person misses me, or was I just a weird weak moment? I am fairly sure I’m not alone in those kinds of thoughts. And it’s such a weird combination because why does any of those matter when it comes to how I view my body. But the reality is that even though I’m in a fairly good place with myself, the way I view my body and self worth, I still want to feel wanted. Like any of us. But when you have a hard time getting your butt moving and feeling better about yourself, it’s hard to believe that I could be wanted in that way too.

So, yeah, it is complicated. The relationship between yourself and your body. It’s all part of the bigger picture of how you think of yourself. And as lately I’ve had to face my fears and thoughts of myself, this is coming up too. On top of the actual fact that all of my clothes are just too small for me. And my stubborn ass doesn’t want to or more like can’t afford to buy bigger just for the sake of it. I want to be able to look my naked body in the mirror and be proud of my capable and strong body, and not feel like I do now, a bit disappointed and sad. But it is tied together, the more I move my body and do things that make me feel better, I slowly see myself and the world in a clearer way. But it’s just such a slow process that the willingness to keep moving forward takes all I have in myself and I fail more than I care to admit. I still am the master of I’ll start tomorrow or next Monday. And I wish I would realise that I’ve done so many amazing things already that I should know that I can do this now too. But I guess I just have to show it all to myself once again. I already have a goal in mind, but I’ll keep that to myself for now.

For me right now, it’s baby steps, slow and steady. Trying my hardest to be gentle but firm with myself. Remind myself that I really can do and be better for my own sake. This is for myself, no one else. Even with all those thoughts, but they just make me a human with real and normal wants and wishes.

PMA ❤

Things That You “Shouldn’t” Speak Out Loud

img_3091Those things that you’ve been keeping inside of you for almost 20 years, or 10 years or couple of years. Those things that have made you who you are without you wanting anything to do with them. Those that been with you even though you would rather have all of them gone. Those that you feel embarrassed or ashamed or scared of. I’m talking about something that is probably the hardest thing to write “out loud” but also feel like it’s the most important thing to write Out Loud. I’m talking about how I’ve been living and carried with me the notion of someone abusing or harassing me, mentally or physically. And not just once, all those times when I knew that telling about them would do nothing. Or knew that I should tell but didn’t have the courage to do it, because I was so ashamed.

Like that time almost 20 years ago, when a boy I really liked, almost raped me. Saying while pulling my pants down, that it will only last a second and how it’s not going to hurt. And how me saying No, didn’t do anything to his attempts, before I manage to kick him away from me. And how I didn’t realize before just couple of years ago how wrong and huge thing that is. How it broke a piece of me when I was just starting to grow as a person and a woman.

Or when an old boyfriend in the middle of a fight hit my head to a wall and how him saying I’m sorry many times just made the whole thing disappear with time.

Or when studying at a restaurant school, working in the teaching restaurant, nervously taking an order, older man smiles at me and touches my butt. And me feeling like I can’t do anything about this, nothing, almost like it’s normal behaviour from men.

Or when someone decides that it’s completely okay for them to first send you dick picks to your email and then start to call you in the middle of the night just heavy breathing. And when you go to the police station to report him because his phonenumber wasn’t secret, they just say to you that they can’t do anything and that I should just change my phonenumber.

Or all those times when someone has used my kindness and mentally abused me and played with me, to a point when I think that I’ve done something wrong and I’m some piece of shit whore.

Or those days when it was so warm that I had to go on my runs late in the evening, wearing regular running shorts and a shirt, and being followed, yelled at, whistled, honked and followed with a car. And that terrifying knowledge in you that you can’t do anything and rather not even react because you’re alone there and have no idea what they can do if you say something to defend yourself.

There’s been a lot of talk about this subject lately in different medias. It’s made me sad, then angry, then sad and then feel that all those years of layers that I’ve built on top of those moments of feeling like nothing, are peeling off and me feeling pretty scared to feel and remember all of them again.

One thing that I’ve had in my life since I was a kid, has been mental harassment and violence. I’ve grown to it, thinking that it’s normal that someone does and says things like that. Which has followed me finding myself in similar relationships. Those years when I was growing to me and who I am as a woman, were scattered with different kind of abuse. And the saddest thing is that the world we live in makes you not want to talk about them, because the response usually is something like “are you sure it really happened like that?” or “I think you’re over reacting” or “are you sure it’s not your fault too?” or “that’s only your side of the story”.

I remember how when I was in my early twenties, I turned the whole thing around trying to be in control, by using my sexuality as a tool. Thinking that if I’m strong and sexy and “willing”, then I’m in control. Which obviously wasn’t right. Because what had happened in my past, had left pretty damn dark scars in me, which meant that I was terrified when it got “down to it”. I was able to talk dirty and tease but when it got to the actual thing, I could not be more scared.

The way guys were and still are, selfish in how they behave when it comes to sex, makes you feel like your pleasure isn’t worth the same as theirs. So you give more than you receive and feel guilty when you say that this is not right. Or even just wanting more  than you were given, aka what you deserve equally. But when you have those memories of someone touching you or trying to touch you in a way that you didn’t want or feel at all comfortable with, it’s even harder to be you with all of you. You feel so strongly that you don’t deserve anything and that you’re not worthy, you’re nothing in a way.

It’s really scary how things that could feel really small to someone, can hurt and leave deep deep scars in another. The moment you feel insecure when you walk out the door, is already too much. Or when you feel that it’s better that I don’t say what happened, because it doesn’t lead to anything better. Or when you just know that you will never hear “I’m sorry for what I did” from that person whose used you in one way or another. It’s also really scary how so much of mental or verbal abuse happens close to us. It comes from those who should never, ever talk to you like that. Any more than some random drunk guy trying to put their hand in your crotch or say something completely wrong to you.

Those years when I was supposed to grow as a woman and me, were the worst because I was broken to pieces and didn’t even realize that I had been done that. I thought that it was something that I did, or at least was made to feel like that. When I was already feeling super insecure with myself, and didn’t believe that I deserve only the best, like anyone else.

The way words can hurt you as much or even more at times than any physical deed, is something I’ve only woken up the last years of my life. I’ve gotten it close to me and from people I have no idea who they are. How someone can make you feel with just few words and take your whole being away, is really terrifying.

Now that I’m starting to be myself and knowing who I truly am under all of those layers, I’m also seeing myself as that woman I am and want to be. Knowing my worth. But at the same time it’s the most terrifying moment when you get all of those layers peeled off from yourself and realize how much wrong have been done to you. I feel more naked now than I ever did when I wrote about my depression. I feel scared how people think of me when I’ve been honest about something like this too. Thinking that maybe there’s so many things wrong with me that they don’t want anything to do with me. Or maybe I’m able to be there for someone whose been in a situation like I have. I know that saying things like this out loud can cause a “shit storm” but at the same time, if I ever want to be free from this, it’s better to get it out. This just happens to be my way, because deep inside me, I wish that I can help at least one person with this, while I am healing myself.

I’m tired of being afraid of speaking the whole truth. I’m tired of feeling I’ve done something wrong, when I’m the one whose been done wrong. I’m tired of thinking that I don’t deserve the best. I’m tired of our society blaming every girl as soon as they learn to walk. I’m tired of thinking that what I wear is somehow too much or too little. It’s a never ending cycle of something. I’m tired of someone thinking that they can control my life when I’m the only one who can do that decision. I’m tired of being scared to be me, whole me. I’m tired of carrying all those scars and broken pieces that I didn’t have anything to do with. I’m tired of hiding things. I’m tired of feeling like my happiness is always less than someone else’s. I’m tired of feeling less. I’m tired of being the one who someone thinks they can strip from my self worth. I’m tired of feeling afraid.