Weight and Mental Illness

Click on the image for Wentworth Miller’s full comments on this image and how it’s been used to ridicule him and how he rises above that. It’s worth reading. Excerpts below.

 

“In 2010, at the lowest point in my adult life, I was looking everywhere for relief/comfort/distraction. And I turned to food. It could have been anything. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. But eating became the one thing I could look forward to. Count on to get me through. There were stretches when the highlight of my week was a favorite meal and a new episode of TOP CHEF. Sometimes that was enough. Had to be.”

I feel this SO HARD. My weight has been stable for a few years now, even slowly dropping over the last year. This coincides with my mental health journey. When I was depressed, isolated, suffering… there were absolutely times when eating was my only joy. “Get out of bed, you’ve got popsicles in the freezer!” No joke. There was a lot more at play there but this was definitely a major element in my weight gain. I struggled with compulsivity and impulsivity as well. Sometimes this was food related, sometimes drug and alcohol related. Sometimes I’m just relieved I survived that part. Thank Big Pharma for the dozen or so meds that saved my life. Feeling unworthy, unloved, out of control, and completely lost… I gained another 70 pounds on top of the 30 I had gained via the stress of new marriage, new house and new baby. This is another reason why shaming fat people does not actually help them lose weight. I was already full of shame, that’s *why* I was gaining weight. And I didn’t give a fuck that I was getting fat. In fact, deep down, I liked it. It felt comfortable and soft. People stopped looking at me, I felt hidden and safe.

“Now, when I see that image of me in my red t-shirt, a rare smile on my face, I am reminded of my struggle. My endurance and my perseverance in the face of all kinds of demons. Some within. Some without.
Like a dandelion up through the pavement, I persist.
Anyway. Still. Despite.”

Today, I love my body because it survived what I put it through. I see the stretch marks, the saggy skin, the big belly, the scars, and they are all evidence of who I am, where I’ve been, what I’ve come through. It’s not easy to love it all the time but I do. I love my fat, old body.

Anyway. Still. Despite. Yes.

A recent photo of me. Fat and happy. Eat that, body shamers. 😉

 

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About Just Vegas

I'm a 30-something married SAHM which means the nightmare scenario that plagued my early 20's has become reality. Funny thing is, I kinda like it. I have 3 lovely daughters who are educated at home and at a part-time alternative school. I love animals and I love people (in the general sense, not everybody all the time). I have no income to speak of, I'm not crafty and I hate cooking. My skills include reading the internet, watching tv on the internet and conversing with people on the internet. I'm an armchair philosopher, spiritualist, agnostic, feminist, liberal, activist, political pundit and tv critic.
This entry was posted in Better Living Through Chemistry, Healthy Living, Navel Gazing, PSA, Survival and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Weight and Mental Illness

  1. emilyks says:

    Love this. Love you. I’m learning slowly to love my body and what it has done for me. Trying to focus on taking care of my body and feeling good more than looking good.

  2. Chelsea Nienaber says:

    You are still you no matter what you look like and I think you are beautiful inside and out. Beauty is on the inside.

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