Feeling the feels and telling it as it is

This is me. Purely and completely. Raw and unedited. Beautiful and perfect, because inperfection is also perfect. My thoughts are my own, I do not wish to convert you to anything. If you think what I have to say is rubbish, you are free to leave the site. If it moves you in any way, feel free to stay.

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This is me. Purely and completely. Raw and unedited. Beautiful and perfect, because inperfection is also perfect. My thoughts are my own, I do not wish to convert you to anything. If you think what I have to say is rubbish, you are free to leave the site. If it moves you in any way, feel free to stay.

Posts in Disordered eating
Shame

There is so much shame attached to disordered eating. So often I don’t want to go outside. I don’t want you to see me, I don’t want you to talk about me, to think about me, to comment on me. My way of dealing with the shame is talking about it, but all that does is getting in front of the conversation. The shame is still there. It’s big and ugly and it eats me up.

The shame is about loss of control, about not being able to stop myself from acting on my impulses. The shame is about not being able to keep up the image. About yo-yo-ing, about being all the things society looks down upon.

I am so ashamed.

It hurts to admit to it. I am ashamed of admitting to my shame.

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I am enough

I never amounted to much. I know that is not strictly true, but what I mean is I never got to do all the things I pictured myself doing when I started down this path of singing. I envisioned myself singing on the great opera stages of the world, being praised by critics and peers alike, but it never happened, and now I’m starting to think it’s too late. Several of my colleagues are doing all the things I dreamed of and I always found it difficult to rejoice for them. I was intimidated and jealous of their successes, because it only cemented the fact that I did not have what they had. That is obviously something one is not supposed to admit to, but I have promised to be absolutely truthful about everything, and this is the truth: The success of my peers intimidated me.

This, of course, does not only limit itself to singing and career, but to all aspects of life. I always struggled with my weight. Slim people intimidated me. I was often told in my teens that I was ugly. NOT by any members of my family, but by the kids I was surrounded by. In fact, it was first when I left Norway and moved to continental Europe that I started thinking I could actually at times be perceived as pretty. So, beautiful people intimidated me as well. Being ugly meant that I was alone a lot when my girlfriends began having boyfriends. Being ugly also naturally meant that I did not have any boyfriends. People in relationships intimidated me.

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Feeling the feels

Recently I read somewhere that,

“it is both a blessing and a curse to feel things so strongly”.

Yes. This is true. I don’t know how many times I have had this exact thought run through my head.

The highs are incredibly high, the lows can be incredibly low and everything in between is incredibly profound. What saves me is that I am an optimist, through and through. My mother always maintains that she is an incurable pessimist. Well, I suppose I got all her optimism, because I am an incurable optimist. Sometimes even to my detriment, but I’d rather go down an optimist than survive as a cynic.

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Breaking down and rebuilding

I have broken down. Again and again and again.

I got up again every time. After every set back I told myself it was to be the last time I broke. But then I broke again. Slowly I stopped telling myself what was beginning to feel like a lie. I didn’t believe myself anymore, I knew I would break again. I also knew I would get up again.

What I started to see, however, was that every time I fell, getting back up got easier.

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