Body

Once upon a time I had six pack abs, toned arms, and I could do so many sit-ups that my trainer on the Wii fit gave up trying to beat me. I'm serious. I was buff. Every day in my single dorm room I turned on my Wii Fit and pushed myself to the nauseating limit. It was not a happy time.

Those days were some of the darkest in my life. I was engulfed in depression and I desperately tried every remedy to make myself come out of that downward spiral. My psychiatrist told me that I needed to carve out time in my intense school schedule to exercise every day. He said that exercise is a depression cure for lots of people. When I say I was desperate, I really mean it. My grip on life was slipping and I was scared. I began to opt out of completing homework assignments and studying for exams to make time for exercise. My parents and I realized that my mental health was vastly more important than my schooling, but none of us wanted me to give up on school yet.

Another function of the depression at that time was a loss of appetite. I smelled food and wanted to hurl. Previously, one of the characteristics of my depression was my tendency to overeat. I knew things were changing for the worse when I couldn't force myself to eat three meals a day. I would eat some cereal in the afternoon and that would be it. I was getting really sick.

People started commenting on the physical changes happening to my body. Most of the comments stemmed from concern for my health, but a few oblivious voices praised me for the weight loss and muscle tone. I hated talking to people about my body. It didn't seem like it was any of their business. I was just trying to do what my doctor told me to do.

The sad thing was that I loved the way I looked. My clothes hung off of my body and I felt comfortable in my skin for the first time I could ever remember. I didn't want to go back to my normal body. I liked being bony and thin. My parents were worried. There was so much tension in my life. It felt like everyone was waiting for something. Waiting for me to come to my senses and start eating.

I remember talking with my psychiatrist and my mom one afternoon in his office. He told me he had another drug that he thought might help me feel better. One of the side-effects was weight gain. Hearing him say those words broke me. I held my breath as that nasty stinging feeling smarted behind my nose, as my eyes welled with tears. I could barely speak. I looked at him. I looked at my mom. I told them that I couldn't take it. I was finally happy with my body for the first time in my life and I was so not ready to have that taken away from me.

Without my loving parents, I would not have had the strength to say goodbye to the body I loved and begin a regimen of new meds. We all knew that my brain's health was more important that how my body looked, but it hurt so deeply in my heart to lose something that made me happy. I started the new medicine and soon I started putting on weight. My appetite came back eventually. I don't even remember if that drug improved my depression or not. I was still mourning the loss of the body I had always wanted.

I still miss looking like a fitness model. I keep reminding myself that the loss of appetite and the weight loss were actually negative side effects of the depression. It's so hard to see past a dreary body image. It is still difficult to look at myself in a full length mirror and be satisfied with what I see. I know I am blessed and I know there are people with much greater problems than me. It is hard not to be ashamed of such a hateful self awareness.

This is something I struggle with. I will continue to battle negative views of my body for the rest of my life. Please understand that if you suffer from this as well, you are not alone. It's a painful thing to admit, and it's kind of terrifying to post it on a blog. But I want to help you and I want to help me. I want to help us love ourselves. I want us to see ourselves as God sees us. I don't know a cure for this mindset, but I do know that I have good days and bad days. I pray that Jesus holds our hands as we walk through the good days and carries us through the bad ones. No matter what, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The bright love of Heaven waits for those who walk with the Lord, despite the ups and downs of our mortal days.

Let's not get down on ourselves. Let rise up to God's love together. Love yourself. You were made in the image of our creator. You are truly, truly beautiful.

Love,
Charlotte