I had this discussion with my "mum" a few years ago, about how could never commit suicide, because of the pain it would cause to those that I love, especially my Dad. After going through that with a wife, plus a parent should never have to bury a child. I saw a colleague go through that and I would never wish it on anyone.
But she did also tell me that even if I didn't blatantly commit suicide, I was still killing myself because of the fact that I do not take care of myself well - my obesity and that I do not much to combat that, at least not long term. I still eat badly, and I both punish and comfort myself with food. At the time, I got what she was saying, but I guess I didn't feel it.
At the end of 2014, I "got" it. I went to the doctors and for the first time in my life, despite years of being grossly overweight, I had high blood pressure. Admittedly it was a small cuff, so gave a higher reading than normal, but at the same time, I do not want to defend the fact that my arm is so fat that I need the bigger cuff.... I wasn't really shocked. And I didn't really care. And it was then that I realised that Jo was right - I really was slowly killing myself with food and self-neglect.
So we had another talk about it, and got to the nitty gritty. Turns out that all the stuff that I like least (or hate) about myself, are traits in myself that I associate with my mother. And not even traits that are apparently that major in me, but that I make bigger because of their association. So it turns out that, in a very simplified nutshell, I am killing myself (albeit, slowly) so that I do not turn into my mother, who also tried to kill herself (but in an abrupt hurtful instant manner, which is apparently worse). It's still a bit complicated in my tiny little head.
Ensue some tears and some light bulb moments that I am NOT my mother, and the things she said to me, that I still repeat to myself, are not actually true and I no longer have to believe them.
There are also issues with the fact that everyone has a primal need to be loved by their mother. And while my mother might very well love me in her own way, it's not really the way I need to be loved, which she is not capable of due to her own screwed up upbringing. On a conscious level, I really don't care. I have Jo and my Dad, and other people in my life to give me that love. On a subconscious level, apparently that is crap and not enough. Gah.
Anyway, over Christmas I got sad. Not only because I really do feel like the only alone person in the world - everyone is loved up and whatnot. And I only get to spend part of the day with Dad because he spends the other part with his new family... I digress. But also because it is the main time of the year when my desire for children really kicks in. I want to start fun traditions, and leave out food for Santa and his reindeer, and make Christmas fun again. So then I realised that if I do keep slowly killing myself, then I won't get that chance, and worse, that if I did, I would leave my kids motherless, or at the very least, screw them up just like I was, with harmful attitudes towards food and all that jazz.
It's all a bit confusing and hard, and frankly, it hurts my head. But I must make baby steps (excuse the pun). Small goals, slow sustainable progress.
Friends of mine are moving to Canada for six months, and I am supremely jealous. But also fortuitous as I am moving into their place for that time - to look after the house, the cats, and to live on my own but with considerably cheaper rent than usual. I am looking forward to having my own space, and my own proper kitchen so that I can take care of myself better. A 6 month project if you will. Ready, set, go. I must remember that the tortoise did beat the hare in the end.....
