So I just needed to rant a little bit. I don't even know if anybody will read this but just writing it down will probably be a little bit cathartic somehow.
[TW: mentioning of EDs, trauma from family dynamics]
TL;DR - I gained a lot of weight, am trying to lose it, but have been stuck in a plateau for months - IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY! In addition, my mother is a mean-spirited, insufferable person who cannot stop comparing me to how I used to look in my teens and early 20s, and never lets me forget that I am now "fat" and therefore somehow worth less as a human being and woman than when I was thinner, despite having an ED, being depressed and anxious.
THE LONG VERSION
Some background:
On January 1st of this year, I decided to lose the weight and get back to the weight I was at when I was the fittest, which I have not been since 2017 or so. My starting, highest weight ever was 149 pounds, and today I am around 143 pounds, where I have been since July-ish. At one point this year, I was able to get down to 140, but work/life stress and limited motivation made me gain some pounds back (at least I'm maintaining at 142-143?).
My goal was (and still is) to reach anywhere between 120 and 130 pounds, which is when I was physically the fittest and performed the best (I also thought I looked fantastic in my wedding photos at this weight). I am a recreational ballet dancer, and at my current weight, certain movements (especially pointework) are much more difficult than when I was a bit lighter, and due to certain medical conditions, my doctor agrees that some of my medical stats would be more optimal at this weight as well.
I also have a history of ED, and have weighed as little as 95 pounds at 18/19 years old, and have had to do a lot of therapy to increase my weight to a healthy level. I gained past this point starting in about 2019 when I was diagnosed with burnout and was put on SSRIs. I have always had a fairly active lifestyle - I did not do a lot of "sports" per se, but generally walked a lot and did a lot of active socializing (like ballroom/latin dancing) which kept me at a healthy weight without too much effort on my part.
I still suffer from body dysmorphia and struggle with trying to balance the health/athletic performance aspect of my weight loss journey with my past history of EDs.
Part of this is due to my relationship with my mother, who definitely has control issues of her own, and believes that women who have not had children should be able to maintain the exact same body they had in their early 20s, since your body "isn't ruined by childbirth yet." (major eyeroll). For her, she disguises her hurtful comments as concern for my health, but she still will not stop comparing my current body to the one where I was definitely unhealthy and underweight.
This definitely does NOT help me with regards to my current journey, and often causes me to fall off the wagon and binge ("I won't ever look like that again, so what's the point?"), even though losing these few pounds would be ideal for my body, performance-wise and medically speaking. She also feels like (because she's a nurse) she is qualified to make "medical assessments" of my current health, despite not even physically being in the same country as me anymore.
The rant:
At the start of this month, I was able to stabilize my schedule and work commitments, at least until the holidays. I also felt great, after having come back from a wonderful vacation in Madeira, where I was able to enjoy myself whilst staying active (lots of walking on inclines, swimming in the ocean, snorkeling) - even after eating all the wonderful local food and drinking a lot of wine, I came back the same weight I was when I left - so motivation was high to stick to a routine and continue.
I had bought some fun dresses and swimsuits to wear on the beach while I was on vacation, and even though I was feeling insecure about my heavier weight, I thought I looked pretty good in my pictures. I wasn't as thin as I was in the past, but I had good muscle tone from regularly keeping up with my ballet dancing, and combined with the tan I had gotten while on the beach, I felt pretty and was excited to share the pictures from my vacation with my family.
My mother completely destroyed any sense of positivity and hope I had for continuing with the plan I had set for myself. I was already feeling quite guilty about having plateaued for a few months, but I was getting back on the right track - trying to walk 7k-10k steps a day, going to ballet class 2-3 times a week, and gradually easing back into eating a deficit.
Her comments about how my looks have been ruined and how now I look "sturdy" (believe me, this is not a compliment, but a backhanded jab) really got under my skin. To make things worse, she went on a rant about how since I don't have children, I should have no excuse to stay trim to "look nice for my husband." There were other comments too, that were really hurtful, and I was almost in tears after this conversation.
She also tried to basically tell me to go on a starvation diet and do a liquid diet to drop the weight fast, which is incredibly triggering for me given my history with EDs. I already struggle with restricting too much then bingeing, which is part of what doesn't help with the weight loss, and everything she says is so incredibly triggering.
Since I've had this conversation with her, I've been able to keep my end of the bargain (I've gone to my planned ballet and fitness classes for the whole month of September and plan to continue) for the most part, but every time I look in the mirror I feel disgusting and like I have no business trying to dance ballet when I'm less of a swan and more of an overweight roast goose.
Being stuck at the same weight really doesn't help - I'm hoping as going to these classes and routine of walking more becomes more habitual, I can shift my focus back onto being more disciplined about my food choices, but it's hard to feel like I'm going to make any progress at all.
My brain understands what I need to do to keep going, but sometimes, the emotional aspects of this and my deep-rooted insecurities make it so hard to keep going. I wish I had a more supportive mother; but I know she's never going to change and all I can do is try and reinforce my boundaries with her :(
Thanks to anbody who made it this far in my rant of the day. I just needed to commiserate with anybody who also has a similar dynamic within their family growing up.
