I’m really starting to detest the overuse of the “Struggle” catchphrase. As in: So and So can’t access their wifi connection at Starbucks therefore, “The Struggle is real”. I’m sorry, folks, but if that is your idea of a struggle, then you are living one very charmed life that I am quite envious of.
But I’m not really sure about my current Struggles and the reality of them. My therapist, dietitian, and doctor (who is currently on medical leave–VERY poor timing) all want me to check into residential treatment for weight restoration. My weight is (apparently) the lowest it has ever been in my adult life.
Here is my Struggle: I don’t feel like I’m suffering any adverse affects as a result of my weight. I go to school, I go to work, I keep my finances in order, I have somewhat of a social life.
I suppose things could be better: I could have more energy, be less cold all of the time, and, oh yeah, eat a normal amount of food for an adult of my age and not feel guilty and loathsome about it. Maybe going out to restaurants once in a while would be nice, too. My sex drive back would be a plus, but who knows if that’s ever coming back.
But is it really worth all the physical and mental anguish to go through the weight gain process for the umpteenth time? I had ONE doctor’s appointment this past month where my weight was up and I flew off the handle. I self-injured, fantasized about dying, I was truly in the lowest of lows in my mind and I would prefer not to go through that again, thank you very much!
So I suppose my Struggle is real. In the back of my mind, whenever I get a chest pain or feel more tired than usual, the thought that I might be dying or having a heart attack is always there. Do I find comfort in those thoughts? I truly don’t think so. But I’m not scared enough to face the ultimate fear set before me: weight gain.