Insanity 101

For those of you out there who are struggling to lose weight; have you ever gone out to eat and you watch while a pretty, thin person at another table digs into a wickedly sinful dessert and you think to yourself - "Oh man, I just hate them."

Or you are sitting on the beach and a girl in a bikini with a perfect figure walks by and you think, "I hate you!"

Of course, you don't REALLY hate them. Maybe you just really really dislike them a whole lot. But do you really? Well...maybe YOU do. But I don't. No. The person I really really dislike a whole lot is ME.

No. Really I HATE me. With a white hot passion. I mean really. Who would want to be me? No one looks at me and thinks, "God I hate you...I wish I were as large as you are. I wish I were infertile. I wish I needed a hysterectomy. I wish I had chronic pain from a debilitating disease. I wish I suffered from depression. I wish I had no friends close by to lean on or do things with. I wish I were physically incapable of maintaining my home in a pristine and neat fashion." OK. Maybe a few women (and men) might think, "I wish I had HER husband and child." But that is about all I have going for me.

So who do I turn to when I want to work through all the insanity rolling around in my head? I can't talk to my parents. They agree with the insane me inside my head. I SHOULD hate myself. No one can love themselves when they look the way I do. My parents are ashamed of me and lie to their friends about me to hide the truth.

I have a couple of friends who live far away. I can talk to them, but they have heard it all before and they have big problems of their own to overcome.

So I turn to the one outlet where I know I can work thought my internal insanity. I write it all down and work through it with words. I get the insanity OUT of my head, into black and white, where I can read it with the rational side of my brain. An added bonus are the handful of kindly stranger friends who happen by, read my insane drivel, and sympathize. They understand this insanity. They relate to it. They write about it too.

Now, one of my random rants that had a "God, I hate her..." theme has been taken completely out of context, taken LITERALLY, read and completely misunderstood and then used as a weapon to rip apart what little happiness I had left in my miserable life. They didn't get the whole "I hate her...no I hate MEEEEEE" thing at all. Why? Because it's impossible to understand self-loathing when you and your life are perfect. It's impossible to give me the benefit of the doubt when all you see when you look at me is someone not worth knowing because I am disgustingly fat, seemingly lazy, seemingly slovenly...someone you have already decided is worthless.

I'm not supposed to blog about stuff like this anymore. I was told to be more generic. I can't name names. I can't put my insane rantings in a public forum...I need to censor myself. I don't know if I can do that and still derive benefit from my formerly therapeutic outlet. John told me to start a private blog. I've tried to have multiple blogs in the past. It doesn't work. After a couple entries, they fall by the wayside. This main blog is just that. My main blog. My primary. My place to write everything and anything about where life has taken me.

Innocents are being hurt over this misunderstanding. I hate myself even more (and I didn't think that was possible).

Maybe tomorrow I can stop crying and try to post something cheerful. Something worth reading. Something that can't be misconstrued, twisted and thrown in my face in a glorious "Ah HA! I knew she was worthless..." moment.

I hate me. It sucks to be me. Thank God a couple people love me anyway (but I have no idea why.)