I just went out to get something from the mailbox and I saw two women standing outside the door and smoking. They were all sorts of conventionally attractive, with the trendiest hair cuts and casual-yet-stylish clothes, slim with curves in all the "right" places, awesome makeup... they just ticked all of the boxes for modern, conventional beauty standards. It's Saturday night so they're probably off to go do something fun in one of the most gorgeous cities in Europe.
And for some reason it made me so fucking sad.
I write this as I'm lying in bed, wearing baggy sweat pants and hoodie with the hood up (I hate fitted clothes on me because I hate my body), hair tied in a sloppy bun because it's too strenuous to brush it every day, unshaved legs, and definitely no makeup... haven't worn it in over 2 years. I haven't looked in the mirror in weeks because my reflection always upsets me. I haven't left the house in months because the strain of just being out in the world destroys my body every time, and it shows. I'm still "recovering" from the last time I had to go out for an unavoidable appointment.
After years of therapy, I realized that my issues with my appearance are largely based on what happened to me when I was younger, and how I was treated whenever I lost a lot of weight in a short period of time as a teenager as part of my eating disorder (fuelled largely by trauma) when I wasn't even overweight to begin with – I thought that I was only ever good for my body, and if my body wasn't good, then I had absolutely no worth. I'd be lying if I said I didn't still feel like that.
I know that there are other things that are far more important than how I look, but I just wish that I were at least somewhat at peace with this meat suit I've been given. I wish I wasn't so sick and all sorts of fucked up so I could just have some sort of joy in my life, even if it's fleeting. I'm fully aware that this sounds pathetic and shallow and I hate myself for it. I'm probably throwing myself a little pity party right now – albeit unintentionally – and I hate that, too.
I just can't help but grieve the life I could have had. Even though the general "normalcy" in society also depresses me because it's all just so tedious, there's still a part of me that feels like I could have done and experienced some great things, between doing activism, making music, helping other people and animals, having friends, making good memories with my loved ones, caring for the sick instead of being the sick, simply enjoying life with the love of my life... and yet all I can do is lie in bed in immeasurable physical and mental pain, and feel like I'm disintegrating with every passing second. This is not living.
Everything just makes me so fucking sad.