Rei's Journal

Just a warning, this journal might be heavy. I will be talking about body image, eating disorders, and trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

I used to hate myself. I truly did. I know hate is a strong word. My mother often reminded us not to use the word because it was too strong of a word, especially when what we really meant was dislike. But I really did hate myself. There were days I would wake up and look in the mirror only to be disgusted and ashamed of what I saw. I would say mean things like “How did you let yourself get like this,” or “you’re fat and ugly,” or “you’re disgusting.” All while looking at myself in the mirror. When I saw myself naked, I would have a visceral reaction to my body, which led to severe depression and eating disorders. 

I was cruel to myself throughout my teens, 20s, and 30s. In my teens and early 20s, I was in the best shape of my life. I could walk and bike for miles without breaking a sweat. I was curvy and beautiful. But when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see that. I saw a blob. So I ate my feelings. I ate and ate to make myself feel better, but it only worsened as I gained more weight. By 25, I was over 300 lbs. and growing. At 36, I was almost at 500 lbs. I gained almost 200 lbs. in nine years. I’ve been slowly eating myself to death. I knew I was out of control and needed help. 

Then I met my therapist. He helped me dig deep into my fears and resentments, childhood trauma, and my relationship with food. He gave me tools to cope with my inner critic and be kinder to myself. Through our sessions, we talked a lot about my childhood. I realized I had never experienced love in my younger years. What I thought was love wasn’t. The independence that was beaten into me made me feel even lonelier. I didn’t feel like I could trust anyone around me. This lack of love was where my self-loathing started. I thought, “if my family doesn’t love me, why should I love myself,” or “you’ll never be loved.” These are awful things for a 14-year-old to be thinking. I had no idea I was holding on to this garbage for so long.

I’m thankful for my therapist every day. Together we have made great strides in healing my inner child and the decades of trauma I was holding on to. Today, I can look in the mirror without disgust. I’m gentler with how I talk to myself and my inner child, reminding myself that little Rei can hear what I say. I still have a lot of work to do to get to a place of true self-love, but at least it’s a start.

Consistency is a struggle. My therapist has been trying to convince me to start journaling for the last eight months. He mentions it often and will casually say, “you should try journaling,” “it might be helpful to keep track of how your feeling in a journal,” or “journaling is a good way to express yourself.” I typically respond with “okay, I’ll try” and never do it. He thinks journaling is a tool I should have in my toolbox to help me make sense of my thoughts and feelings or just do a brain dump since I have ADHD. But I’m not very good at sticking with new things. My school of thought on trying new things has typically been that I’ll be a complete failure, so why even try. Or I forget about it altogether.

Over the years, I’ve tried many new things like sewing, knitting, baking, blogging, therapy, and so on. Of all the new things I’ve tried, I’ve managed to do therapy consistently, so I know it’s possible. My therapist and I have been meeting once a week for two years. Even when I felt like garbage or didn’t feel up to meeting with him, I still did. It’s good progress. That may be why today feels different. It feels like a good day to jump feet-first into something new. I have worked hard to get here with my therapist’s help, so I should try journaling like he suggested.

That’s why I’m here today, journaling for the first time, albeit in a public space. I am trying to understand why I chose to start a WordPress blog. But it doesn’t really matter. All I know is that I’m doing this for myself. Not anyone else. If what I write about resonates with you, great. If not, that’s okay. Stick around. You might change your own mind.

I have no expectations for myself and this journal. The goal is to write here once a week. If I can do that, I’ll be over the freakin’ moon excited!

Until next time.