I Wonder What It's Like To Live Life Without Seeing Your Flaws
By: Shannon Ashley
Tags: Life Lessons, Self, Anxiety, Mental Health, Body Image

For the past few days, I've been battling a bad cold. As a single mom, that means I’m not sleeping very well and I'm struggling to give myself much of a break.

When I finally acknowledged that I couldn't get back to sleep and got out of bed this morning, I was frustrated to note that I still have a sore throat. And not just any sore throat. Not the painful kind, but the yucky, itchy kind that just feels and tastes... gross.

I head to the bathroom and silently berate myself for my messy home. I used to be much better with housework and I know I won't get to the laundry as long as I still feel like crud.

On my way to the bathroom, I pick up a box of Manuka honey cough drops that was sitting on the floor. Another internal insult about my failure to keep my home clean. Before reaching the toilet, I open up the box of cough drops, unwrap one, and stick it in my mouth.

Taking note of the overflowing wastebasket and how absolutely disgusting I am, I also berate myself for thoughtlessly eating a cough drop. See, I'm supposed to be on a weight loss plan.

Morbidly obese women don't need to consume sugar or honey or any other unnecessary things.

So, I feel like a failure before the day has really begun.

I go downstairs to make my daughter breakfast and stop to put on socks and shoes. As I do that, I can't help but criticize my fat body and wonder if I even had the right to spend so much money on high-quality socks and shoes that don't irritate my lipedema legs.

I have a weird fixation with not deserving nice things as long as I'm fat.

My throat still bothers me, so I choose a red lentil soup for my breakfast. Technically, if I was "on track" with my weight loss plan, I would be having a shake or other approved meal. Like a high-protein soup or broth.

Instead, I choose something more carby and feel guilty about the soup. I think about how I should only eat half of the bowl, but of course, I have the whole damn thing. It's only 240 calories for the whole thing, but I'm still hungry and I did have that honey cough drop first thing in the morning.

Ugh.

I wonder if guilt could become its own mental illness.

The guilt really isn't any different from what I'd feel if I ate a whole bag of carousel cookies which have been staring at me ever since my mom told me she didn't want them after all. Great.

So, I sit down to work after eating the soup, wonder how many calories were in that damn cough drop, and then proceed to eat 4 single servings of Manuka honey from a box that was sitting in my chair.

Of course, I ate the honey for my scratchy throat, but feel like a jerk. Actually, I know I'm a jerk because I still need to respond to my friend and tell her no, I didn't send out the email I told her I would send out yesterday.

And I don't have a good reason for not doing it right now either. I simply feel overwhelmed and sick and I want to sleep the whole weekend away.

It occurs to me how this level of guilt over everything is ridiculous. I feel a headache coming on and pour myself a diet soda. Yes, I think about the fact that diet soda is terrible for your health. But I opt for the caffeine to stave off a headache.

I return to the living room with my diet soda and a bag of Everything Pretzel Crisps. Damn it. I’m sure I'll eat more than a serving size.

Despite the guilt and anxiety, I keep writing, hoping that my honesty can help someone.

Maybe even me. Lose count of the pretzels and think how at this rate I won't even lose 10 pounds in the 3 weeks before my vacation.

Like plenty of other obese people, I place enormous pressure upon myself to lose weight fast.

I remember that one time I did the "5 Bite Diet" and lost 20 pounds in one week. God, I should do that again. Instead, I eat 3 more pretzel crisps and hate myself as I think about getting some hummus.

If I'm not careful, this whole line of thinking will detour into plenty more self-loathing and body hatred. It will spiral down into frustration over my weight, my PCOS, and lipedema. And my inability to feel beautiful or worthwhile.

Today, I am keenly aware of just how hard I am on myself.

How can somebody be so hard on themselves and also so undisciplined? I dunno, but I manage to do it every damn day.

And I am well aware of the fact that I could be kinder to myself. Should, even. I could make better choices. If something really bothers me, I should change that, right? I recognize all of these things. And I take responsibility for my shortcomings. Which are many.

Yet?

I can't help but wonder what it's like to go through life without the constant inner criticism.

Are there really people who go about their days without berating every single choice they make?

The sad thing is that I've already come so far. My negative self-talk used to be more constant, more angry, and more obvious. Like looking at myself in the mirror and outwardly saying I am stupid, ugly, or worthless.

I actually thought I was past all of that and in some ways I am.

Now I'm realizing that there are lots of different types of negative loops, and I've fallen into one that silently ridicules everything I do. As a result, I am perpetually frustrated with myself.

For not being good enough.

So, what is it like to go through life without a negative loop? What is it like to have no knee-jerk reaction to the most basic of choices? To give yourself a break and mean it?

I don't know if people like me ever quit thinking about every little thing they do in dualistic terms like right and wrong, good or bad.

Or if we ever can at least quit holding onto the negatives.

But I'd like to think there's some alternate reality or parallel universe me who's out there living freely. Making her choices without that inner narrator who says she's always fucking up.

Am I out there somewhere?

Or will I somehow come to be so chill?

I hesitate to even let the world know that I battle this level of anxiety because it feels way too revealing. I’m not looking for weird looks, pity, or suggestions.

It's an anxiety barely understood or acknowledged by me, yet I know I'm hardly the first person to struggle this way.

So, I'm not sure if I will ever even know the peace of not needing to question, second-guess, or criticize every bit of me.

But I'm trying to give myself the space to dream of a future where I can be free from my own inner nagging.