sometimes, in this whole recovery process, I feel like I’m trying to be “normal” about food and weight and body image in a world where…well, nobody else is. it seems like everybody is worried about calories and carbs and fat grams and BMI and how their butt looks in their jeans. and here’s dopey ole me, making sure I eat every three to four hours because that’s what the nutritionist said to do (and because if I don’t I feel like shit…yea, that too), planning my schedule so there’s room for meals and snacks, taking time out during every day to get on a yoga mat or write or otherwise have time to breathe and reflect…
that in and of itself, makes me atypical.
I sometimes joke about what it must be like, to be “normal.” that was always my goal when I went into a situation where I didn’t know people: to seem “normal.” but in a society where it’s normal to be diet- and body-obsessed…is that really what I want?
it’s frustrating to be fighting myself (hard enough!), and also to be fighting against the mainstream public attitude. I get so irritated sometimes–if they can skip a meal, why can’t I? if they can go on a three-day, grapefruit and air cleanse…why the hell can’t I?!
I know why I can’t–because I have never, in my entire existence on this earth, done anything in moderation. and because, as much as I hate to admit it, I am not like them. I am not, and will never be (at least in the foreseeable future) “normal” in that sense. as much as it sucks, I am living by a different set of rules.
I guess I shouldn’t aspire to be “normal;” maybe striving to be healthy, to be true to myself, to be happy and fully alive, is a more…fulfilling goal.
and so maybe that means being abnormal for a little while longer.