As I went for my walk last night on Day Three, I realised I was feeling down. I had this small burn in my gut. It’s still here today. Clearly, as the fat comes off, the pain has room to come out. I practiced some FasterEFT on it last night because I wasn’t sure what it was about or where it was coming from then today it has hit me. This weight coming off right now is the pain I suppressed from my divorce. Well ouch motherfuckers :/ This is gonna burn. How do I know it’s gonna burn? Because it already is. I can feel it from the pit of my stomach right up to the bottom of my jaw. This long line of burning sensation that grows and retracts, grows and retracts and it has the shape similar to a yard glass, you know the ones they chug out of at 21st b’days? It bubbles, it burns and it radiates but the most intense part of it is right over my heart chakra.
I know it’s from the divorce, 1) because logic. The weight from around 110 kg onward was all put on during my divorce years, which means the past 3 to 4 years-worth of gain. So of course, that stuff is going to come up first for me to deal with in order to release the weight I carry around with me every moment of every day. I can tell you right now, I’m not looking forward to the 60 kg to 80 kg range, I already know what that stuff is :/ 2) I know it’s about divorce stuff because the end of my marriage has been on my mind a LOT the past few days and isn’t it funny how meme’s will pop up about the stuff that is on your mind. For instance, this meme
I DID go through hell and back, for many, many years, to try and make the marriage work to make it last to make it healthy to keep my kid’s mother and father together in the same house. Ultimately, the thing that ended up keeping me strong in following through with leaving Voldemort (that is what He shall henceforth be known as), was the fact that I didn’t want to teach any of my three kids that it was ok to stick around in a relationship that doesn’t work, where you are miserable and nothing changes no matter how much you try. Because it isn’t. At the end of the decade, during that separated year where we were meant to be working together toward a better marriage so the kids and I could move back into the family home, it became abundantly apparent to me how little Voldemort tried, how little effort he put in to the actual marriage, how little value he gave me and just how many excuses he had for not doing it. One of my favourites was the one where he used me and my self-development as an excuse to not work on our relationship, that was a good one. His words, “You have spent a lot longer working on yourself than I have, so I feel like I need to work on myself before I can commit to working on the marriage.” His excuse for not going to marriage counselling was that he needed to do his own counselling first, as if he could ever catch up to where I was at. That excuse cut me pretty badly but I still had such hope that we could make it work at that stage, so I believed him and I let him get away with it. Even though when he said it all I thought was that it is possible to do both. He could work on himself AND work on the marriage. We finally went to counselling about 10 months after I moved out and, as with almost all other co-counselling sessions, they became about him. You know why right? Let me tell you. It was because *I* WAS doing the work, *I* was making the compromises, *I* was doing everything any counsellor suggested already before they even suggested it, so the marriage failing… it wasn’t from me, it wasn’t about me. I cannot tell you how many times the counsellor would look at me and say, have you tried doing this (likely because I am a strong woman and come on strong and he is weak and shuts down so they assume it is ME and that I don’t know it’s me when it’s me) and I would look them in the eye and give them examples of when I tried doing ‘this’ and ‘that’ and then tell them two or more other things I’ve done to try and help the relationship and Voldemort would sit in the chair and snicker or flat out laugh because it was true. They would ask him, is that your experience of it? He would agree, yes, that was his experience of it as well. So of course, every session would end up about him and eventually, we’d just stop going somehow until I brought it up again.
Same thing happened with our very last counsellor. By that last session I was so fucking angry cause it was always all about him and I just felt like I was sitting in on HIS session. There was no work being done toward healing our relationship and when there was, I would come up with suggestion after suggestion and compromise after compromise and butt up against a big fat brick wall of, No – followed by excuses for the no. It’s amazing how hindsight is so clear isn’t it? It still took me over 6 months after calling time of death on the marriage for me to really begin to understand what really happened.
I may have physically walked away from the marriage. But he killed it. I might have called time of death. But he struck the fatal blows. I left still loving him, not realising that he didn’t love me. He didn’t even like me. I think he though he loved me but if that is love? I don’t want it.
That is so painful. To walk away from someone you love because they don’t have the balls to do the hard work. It is painful to realise you were merely tolerated, not loved and rejoiced like you deserve to be. It is painful to look back on all the fucking effort you put into the relationship day in and day out and see how little the other person ever put in. It is painful to end a relationship you still have hope for. It is painful to grieve something that isn’t dead inside you yet. It takes a really long time to grieve that. Then you get another stab when you realise almost from the second you called time of death your husband of 10 years, who you’d been in some kind of relationship with for over 16 years, began flirting with the next woman and you wonder secretly if it was even before the marriage ended. You wonder briefly if he cheated, maybe not physically but emotionally? It hurts.
So, I did what I do. I pushed down that pain with food, I fill that void, that great big hole inside myself with food. I stopped caring about everything except my kids and my new cat that I was finally able to have after years of wanting one.
What that means is, all that pain I pushed down? It’s going to come back up and it is going to ugly and I HAVE to deal with it. If I don’t, I simply won’t lose the weight. My weight is literally all my pain, clinging to my frame, like armour. Sadly, the armour doesn’t help, it doesn’t protect me at all, even though it thinks it is. I still feel the emotional pain. All this means I have to feel it. I have to be strong and I have to allow the feelings space. It probably means a lot of crying on the cards for me in the coming year. The thing is, I can cope. I can deal. I am capable. Time to be strong. Time to acknowledge and name the pain and keep feeling it until it’s done so I can release it and move on.
Today is pain day. Super pain day as I found out Voldemort has a new girlfriend and he introduced her to our children last night without bothering to let me know first as I thought was our arrangement. I’m allow the feelings to be there, I’m trying to be present with them without being overwhelmed by them. I’m even doing some FasterEFT with them in the hopes it will help me release them quicker. The best thing of all? I haven’t stopped doing what I’m doing with OptiFast.
I’ve had my 3 meal replacements and I’ve had my salmon and salad for dinner and yes, I have this rumble in my stomach like I could happily eat all the carbs in all the world but I’m ok. I’m still feeling strong. I’m doing just fine and that makes me hopeful. Hopeful I can reach my goals this time. I still have no faith in myself but at least I’m hopeful right?
Today, I won.