It can go either way, you love yourself, you hate yourself. You really have no opinion because you are so medicated, you’re a zombie. I can’t say I’ve ever LOVED myself. But, I’ve been content every now and then. I’ve worked hard on my morals and my ability to get rid of negative personality traits. I did most of this before the BP hit.

Physically, I’ve never been a big fan of my body. Which effects my self image tremendously. When I was younger, I was too thin. Then I was too fat. Stayed fat for a very long time. Then in college, I finally lost enough weight to feel good about myself. I was just a bit on the heavy side, maybe 10lbs over what I should be. I was content.

Then I got ill. The depression, the lithium and sleeping all day… My metabolism is shot. I became super morbidly obese. And walked with a cane. I never knew how big I really was, until the pills got me to a certain point and I could see I was suffering physically and mentally. No self esteem. But, that’s always been a problem. Even when I was thin.

I had weightloss surgery and thought that FINALLY, weight wouldn’t be an issue in my life. I lost, but then I gained it back, almost all of it. Then I had a revision and lost again. Now it’s back again. Why is it these things work for so many and it doesn’t work for me. I eat right. Am getting some exercise, but can’t fully exercise yet, due to knee surgery. But I am walking the dog without a cane. Big step for me.

It does seem to be harder for me. Med wise, weight wise, no matter what I try. I take risks and I’m knocked backwards. Makes you wanna just give up. But I don’t.

My self image is 50/50. I know I’m a good person. I’ve worked on that. I respect my fellow man. I try and understand others’ points of view. I don’t judge and I live by my own set of morals. Do no harm. But, the other 50 is a complete disaster area.

Mainly, because of my body image. It’s always been distorted. I have an eating disorder. Compulsive over eater. I will always have this. I eat out of stress, boredom and depression. And now anxiety. Yo-yo weight gain/loss and medication makes it harder to keep control of these things. Therapy has helped, but it’s a lot of work deflecting triggers. And sometimes, I just don’t care enough about myself to make the effort. So, I turn to food.

Luckily, I don’t eat as much as I use too. But I have made bad choices here and there. They expect you to be a perfect eater. I’m not a perfect anything. I’m compliant, to a point. There are good days and bad days. It’s no fun when you can’t concentrate long enough to make the right choices.

Knowing and doing are two different things. And sometimes the self hatred wins. I don’t know what is gonna happen with me. What the surgeon is gonna tell me. But this is the last stop for me. The last chance to do something. And the last thing to do. If possible.

More surgery? I told myself NEVER. No more cutting. But I can’t risk my knees or my blood pressure, which is high. I just wanna be healthy. To live my life without worrying about getting worse. Aging is inevitable. But, I’ve got enough illnesses. I don’t need more.

So, February will tell. Do I or don’t I or can I. And if I die, well… It’s in God’s hands. I can only do so much. I don’t think I will die. The risks are protein and vitamin malabsorption. I just need to up my intake for both from what I do take and watch my blood work etc.

Back to Self Image. Like I said. I wish I could love myself for who and what I am/look like. But I don’t. I’m not trying to live up to some supermodel image. I just want to be normal weight and feel good.