lately, i’ve been really rough on myself. i’m not sleeping, i’m eating like shit, and i’m emotionally beating the shit out of me. it’s hard, when your romantic notions are called out as the delusions of grandeur that they really are. when that happens, it’s easy to feel unworthy. it’s also entirely too easy to blame it on yourself and some deficiency on your part. i’m not pretty enough, skinny enough, short enough, witty enough, smart enough, something enough. never enough. and thus the whole viscious cycle begins with the not sleeping, not eating right,and generally looking at yourself in the mirror with a feeling of disgust that should a stranger look at you like that, you would instantly burst into tears. thus, i’ve just been avoiding the mirror, because i don’t want to see that look on my own face.
in the deepest, darkest depths of my mean reds, i feel useless. not worth the time or effort for anything. and this weekend, i’ve been right there in it. indulging myself in the worst way. ignoring anything good that could possibly come from me. that was, until today.
today i got an e-mail from someone who had read my Fat Girl piece. it is by far the most honest thing i have ever written. so honest that i cannot even go back and read it. i’m just not strong enough yet.
but it is the one thing i’ve written that seems to speak to people. today, i got an e-mail from a woman who read the fat girl piece and she told me, ” You used your time to unknowingly make a dramatic difference in my life. I saved your site so I may refer to it on an hourly basis, if time permits. After reading “Fat Girl”, it will be extremely difficult to lose sight of my goals and impossible to forget that I am not alone in this beautiful, but sometimes cruel world. Thank you for giving me a moment of peace.”
it amazed me, reading that e-mail. that without doing a single thing today, i made someone feel better. that something i wrote helped. tonight, when i looked in the mirror, i wasn’t so disgusted.