15. January 2017 by swissfitchick
I stumbled across some old diaries of mine the other day and scanned a couple of pages. I was shocked by what I read. The intensitiy of the self-hatred. The doubts. The struggles, the obsession and all these fucked up thoughts about food, body image, training and drugs – which in the end resulted in a complete deranged perception of myself and a pathetic cover up for what really bothered me.
Much to my dismay, I realized – while reading through my memories – this lasted until about five years ago. You read that right – I kept up with this evil obsession and addiction until my age of 34 and I started when I was sweet sixteen. You do the math.
As paradox as it may sound, my tendency to live in extremes saved my life. Being used to expose myself to uncomfortable life situations and being able to tolerate the pain, the discomfort and the stress that comes with it, I managed somehow not to die during these 20 years. In fact, when I read through these diary entries and remembering the shit I forced myself into, I find it beyond me on how on earth I am still alive and healthy. My affinity for extremes hasn’t lessened – yet I put my mental and physical health as a top priority.
I wanted to be skinny before I recover. I thought skinniness would bring happiness and that is when I may let go off the disease – the disease, my constant and most loyal friend. Being hit by boyfriends, working for months in a poor country like the Philippines, seeing my Dad die from cancer at the age of 55, or spending two months in Rehab to get off the drugs, weren’t enough to dump that idiotic eating disorder. Apparently, I’m stubborn. Without a shadow of a doubt, very very much so.
Eventually, after years and years of cheating death, I have come to find that I actually like myself and life with all its allures. That I am a fuckin’ lucky devil because I survived the past, because I still have my friends surrounding me and because I have a job and a place to sleep. I entered recovery and because I always do things full-ass or not at all, I wouldn’t have stopped until I succeeded – and so I did.
I have always been a social butterfly, cheerful, extroverted and jolly – even the sickness couldn’t completely hide these traits of mine. However, the countless crashes and relapses, the secretiveness about the addiction and faking the happiness at times, interferred with my professional life and my relationships. The day came when I decided to slap this bitch in the face and move on.
Life is about facing shit, leaving it behind and letting it go. Moreover, it is about going out, enjoying the moment, moving forward and take risks. Yes, if we let love into our lives, we take the risk to get hurt again. And yes, if we try something new, we take the risk to fail. And yes, if we chase goals, we take the risk not to reach them. And yes, if we make changes, we take the risk to regret them.
Yet, if we isolate and hide, we accept the FACT that we will miss out on all these experiences, opportunities and chances. A chance to learn, to grow, to experience happiness, laughter and lessons of life which are the most precious education.
I can not encourage enough to go out and live. Get your shit together however hard it may be. Stop making excuses and worry about silly calories or a fat layer or any other stupid obsession that keeps you from evolving, feeling and living . Work your ass off. I’m the living proof that leaving shit behind and being happy is possible. Go and do it, because you can.