Hi all, I'm not totally sure what this post here is yet. This is either a cry for help or a warning to others, maybe both.
Some Background
In March, 2020, I was a very obese and unconfident seventeen-year-old. I had spent years this way and there was no sign I was going to be any other way. Of course, lockdown happened. It wasn't until April 27th that I went out, late at night, for a walk. That walk led me into running. I ran out of pain. I ran out of desperation. Shit, I ran out of boredom, but I ran nonetheless. I'd say around August I was looking really freaking good. I had slimmed down to a point I could wear medium-size clothes again! I felt like I was a serious success story.
Never Enough
I still wouldn't call my body, "attractive" by any means. I was more of a "good with clothes on" kind of guy. My confidence, the little bit I had begun to develop, took a massive blow. I hated looking at myself in the mirror, again. I became obsessed with how I look and I decided to build some muscle. As it turns out, building muscle is much harder than burning fat. Plus, I had to go to a gym with people in it to do that. Muscle didn't pack on as quickly as I had hoped and it seemed like everything in the world conspired to keep me away from the gym. I became consumed by my body image.
Obsession
I can't help but study my face and body when I look into a mirror. I'm not admiring myself when I do this, as those who witnessed the phenomenon may have thought, I'm critiquing myself. At school, I focused on myself, wishing I was able to do something to make my body look better right at that moment. Ironically, every time I did have the chance to work on myself, I felt so depressed that I ended up doing nothing, or something that damaged my body (eating junk, ice cream, etc.). I was/am in a vicious cycle.
Catastrophe
I had big plans for my body this summer. Unfortunately, a foot injury and a very irritable skin rash set me back a lot. As I write this I'm still at a healthy weight, but I'm verging very close to an unhealthy weight. I had to take steroids for the latter of my ailments and I packed on the pounds! I feel humiliated and willing to give anything just to have the body I had just a few weeks ago. I wake up and feel how soft my midsection is, and I force myself not to cry. I feel like my confidence is right where it was at when I was obese even though I'm over one hundred pounds lighter!
Hope?
I've come to realize my own confidence is so tightly linked to my physical appearance that I feel a newfound determination to fight until my body is something I can be proud of! I'm putting myself on a 5-hour eating window ( I used intermittent fasting to lose the weight the first time), I'm eating nothing but quality protein and vegetables, I am going to lift in the mornings and run in the evenings ( run twice on non-lift days, and on leg day no running), and I am going to make certain I walk 10,000 steps a day outside of my exercise steps. I'm hoping all of this will help me and now that I know my own ability to be confident and happy depend on it, I feel all the more driven. Still, I wonder if there's something else I'm neglecting that may lead to greater confidence and happiness. I've heard about "acceptance," but I simply can't accept my dumpster of a body. The very notion of doing so feels like stagnation and delusion. I'm not doing well, but damn it, I have some sort of hope!
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