Demon Thoughts

I should try harder. If I just ate better, worked out more, I could look like her. I am not good enough. I wish I was taller, thinner, prettier, leaner, better dressed. I AM DISGUSTING. Pinch stomach rolls and cellulite on the thighs and want to cry. Wish I could just cut it off. I can’t leave the house today I’m too gross. I wish I could wear that. Or that. Or that. If I just can lose X amount, I’ll feel better. I’ll look better. All of my problems will disappear. Oops, I’m at X weight and I still feel exactly the same. Nothing works. Nothing helps. I AM SO GROSS AND UGLY. Why does Matt love me? My Mom is probably embarrassed by me. People look at me and think she’s let herself go. I need to wear a sign that says “I WORK HARD FOR THIS BODY, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?” I would be devastated if someone thought I didn’t work hard. I work out hard, I eat healthily, yet I still look like THIS. That number on the scale is ridiculous. I can’t buy clothes because I’m not buying THAT size. If I thought I was fat before, what must I look like NOW??? Can I go back to the first time I thought I was fat and be that size? Is Matt disappointed in the way I look because I’ve changed a lot since we got married? Are my kids embarrassed by me?

Is my hair too short? Too long? Too masculine? Not edgy enough? Are my teeth yellow? Are they moving and not straight anymore? Is that another fucking wrinkle? Is that another gray hair? Why do my hands all of a sudden look like my Grandma’s? You shouldn’t wear that. You’re too big. You’re old. You’re not cute enough. Did my nose get bigger? Did my lips get smaller? Why aren’t my eyelashes longer? Where did my eyebrows go? I wish my collarbone and shoulder blades stuck out more. I wish my legs were smaller and longer. That picture of me can’t really be what I look like, can it? BURN ALL THE PICTURES.

I can’t believe I worry about this shit. I survived cancer for god’s sake. I should just be thankful to be alive. This mental illness is so fucking hard to get over. I’ve made tons of progress but I still have these demon thoughts. I’m so done with them. I need to focus on acceptance. Say positive things only. But my demon doesn’t want to let go. It’s been with me for over 30 years. It’s comfortable. It’s my go-to. Great, now I feel guilty and vain when I should just be thankful to be alive. I don’t want to have wasted another minute on these stupid, diminishing thoughts. I need to be a role model for my teenage girls and boys that I teach every day. For my sons. I need to stop thinking these thoughts. I need to be done with this demon. No one loves me for the way I look or the size of my pants. They love me for me. That’s what I need to focus on and realize. Be gone, demon.






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