Yes, I’m aware of how trite the title is; it’s an overused phrase, and those who say that sort of narcissism is partly to blame for a lot of the ills of this world are likely right.

But stick with me, here. I’m not talking about the sort of “Love Yourself” that compels people to pucker up for duck lip photos in the bathroom mirror and post them on Facebook. I’m talking about the message of “Love Yourself” that people, like me, need to consider and hear more often.

This is a multi-faceted issue for me.

I still have a lot of mental sludge from my childhood. I know this; I recognize it, and I don’t see it as an excuse for anything — merely an explanation of behaviors that get triggered as an adult. I admit this is probably something I should seek therapy for, as my methods to date haven’t worked.

My particular brand of sludge came from my father. I know he was an inconsiderate jerk of a man; a sociopath, very self-centered, and unfortunately, charismatic. A lot of people over the years believed his particular brand of BS because they were drawn in by that magnetism, only to get burned by it. He was not a nice person at all.

As an adult, I know this. I’ve made my peace with it. I know that the things he said and did to me in my childhood were garbage. I know, above all, that he was 100% wrong, too. This wasn’t  just about my weight as a child; this was also about my value as a daughter to him and to my family. He was an arrogant bastard who was raised to believe women were nothing, and that’s how he treated me.

I hungered for praise and attention from him. I had two older brothers who were offered rewards for good grades in school; I only know that the offer was made. I don’t know that he followed through with it, because by nature, he often (intentionally?) forgot his promises. Still, I was never made that offer — and I was an exemplary student. Everything I attempted, I tried to excel at, and often did — only to receive absolutely no recognition from him. This also included any sort of parental support, from assistance with homework to attendance at school functions. He never did anything for me unless there was something in it for him.

I wanted his approval. I saw him give approval to my brothers, even if it was on a limited and selfish basis to them, as well. I yearned for it, and when my brothers were finally gone from home, I thought he would finally pay me some attention; and he did, but it was negative. His treatment of me was full of criticism and mistrust.

I know, now, that the way he treated me was not my fault. But there’s still a 16 year old that remembers having to walk outside to meet a date because I didn’t want him to meet my father, who laid on the couch in the evenings, often with his belt undone. There’s a 17 year old who was told she couldn’t date until she was legally old enough to be responsible for anything that might happen. (Mind you, anyone who knows me from those years would likely bust a gut at the thought that I might be anything other than very quiet and reserved.) Or the 16 year old that was offered $100 if I would lose enough weight to look like a mannequin that happened to be wearing an outfit I’d commented on in his presence.

 

I won’t continue with the examples; I’m not looking for condemnation of him, or sympathy.  I know he was wrong, and I don’t need anyone to agree with me. He passed away years ago, and I made my peace with him before his death, but that damage is still there. That overwhelming sense of not being good enough is still deeply entrenched, regardless of how hard I try, and it’s that inner voice that happily chimes in and reminds me that I’m not good enough when I’m not getting the results I want. Not just in weight loss, either; in anything.

It just seems to be the strongest when it comes to weight loss.

 

This seems to manifest itself in two ways; I tell myself that the opinions others have of me does not matter. That I am strong enough, and determined enough, to value my own judgments and succeed. If I tell myself that enough times, I believe it (at least temporarily), and it actually works.

But only to a point. I do care. I am sensitive to the approval of others. I want validation, and when I don’t get it, I feel like the teenager who tried her best and got ignored — again. This makes me vain, I realize. It also makes me want to make sure everyone on God’s Green Earth knows that I wasn’t always fat. That I have made supreme and successful efforts in the past when it comes to weight loss — as if I have something to prove to anyone else, when I really don’t.

I fear perceptions. I worry that when people read, here, what my real weight is, that they devalue what I have to say, who I am, who I was, what I want to accomplish. I am horribly embarrassed to be seen as a failure; not only by people I know, but people I don’t know. I can feel my anxiety level going up just writing about this.

Not good enough.

So I do things to convince myself I was/am worthy. I look for that validation. I can be very obsessive-compulsive about things, to the point where I cause my own failures. These feelings of unworthiness are amplified the heavier I am, so right now, they’re through the roof.

I know I have to work through them. My own logic tells me that I’m probably pretty average when I view other people. If someone’s overweight, I might note it, but I don’t hold it against them. If I see someone I knew from years ago and they’ve put on weight, I might notice it (along with graying hair or other physical characteristics), but I don’t see it as any sort of personality flaw or value judgment. I only see what made them my friend in the first place, and that rarely has anything to do with looks; much more with how that person made me feel when they were around.

So, it’s definitely dysfunctional that I automatically assume that other people view me in any different light. I know that. I have to work on it, especially times like now, where I grow impatient with progress (for absolutely no reason; I’m actually doing quite well) and that sense of unworthiness arrives right on time.

 

I know I need to work on the concept of “Love Yourself”; not in a vain way, but in forgiving self-acceptance. Last week, I talked about the “Blerch”; now, I realize that “Blerch” for me is “Walt” (My father’s name). I always knew that, but I confess that I thought I had that issue beat.

Whoever or whatever your “Blerch” is, it’s time to have a serious talk with it.

 

As for weight loss this week (did you think I forgot?), I had my monthly review. I’ve completed one successful month on plan and lost 16.2 pounds. I’m happy with that.I’m also happy to report that some of the physical problems that moved me to give weight loss another try are improving. I’ve had some IBS-related issues that seem to be clearing up. I’ve done better about drinking all my water and taking all my prescriptions and supplements; I’m horrible about taking them.

I’m now at 17 pounds down. I’ve had my ups and downs these last couple weeks, including a temporary gain of water weight; I’m glad to see that I’m down this week. As I’ve said before, I’m fighting for every single pound, and I have seen the weight drop since last week in fractions of pounds.

That’s a 17 pound baby. Ouch! I’ll be glad when I’ve lost enough weight to use examples of weight loss that aren’t fish or babies. 😉