Ellie

It's been a while since I've let myself reflect in this way.

I do not take care of myself.

I have never consistently taken care of myself.

I do not shower regularly. I rarely put on deodorant. I don't brush my teeth or wash my face. I eat junk food and fast food daily. I don't move my body. I don't take vitamins. I sit for eight hours at work and then come home and lie in bed for a few hours before going to sleep. It hurts my back to stand, my hip to walk and my knees to climb stairs. I treat my body like I hate it. And the result is that I end up hating it even more.

I started seeing a new therapist recently. I had worked very closely with my previous therapist for four years and last January he told me he was no longer taking insurance. We did really deep work together (Internal Family Systems therapy if you're interested) and he helped me change my life. I found the courage to come out to my family and live openly and honestly. I applied for a graduate program and am two terms from finishing. I published my first piece in my program’s literary journal. I spent three weeks at Oxford, taking a summer creative writing course. I moved out of a tiny studio into a lovely house. So many beautiful things happened as a result of our work together. But through it all, I never started taking better care of my body.

I have put off trying to address this for so long that I don’t even know where to begin

When I was 11, my mom brainwashed me into believing that I’ll never be worthy of love as long as I'm fat. Taking care of myself translates to "losing weight" in my head. I'm the heaviest I've ever been. I'm also at my happiest. But still, somehow, I hate myself. Despite everything I've been through, from barely surviving to thriving (most days - I'm still mentally ill, neurodivergent, highly sensitive, and an empath (it’s exhausting feeling everyone’s emotions)) I know that if she were alive, my mom would hate how big I am. Nothing I did mattered because all she could see was my size. And her brainwashing was so effective because it was disguised as love. "It's so hard to see you so big," she said when I came home from college for the summer. And then when she turned to leave, she said "I love you, Lo, I'm so glad you're home."

I'm pretty messed up about what love is and what it looks like. And I don't love myself because I still believe what she taught me - that no one will ever love me if I'm fat.

I push through this belief daily now, thanks to therapy and my graduate classes, where people ask to spend time with me, want to be my friend despite being nearly 350 pounds. I challenge these thoughts every time a friend asks me to dinner or texts me to say they're thinking about me. But I don't know how to challenge these thoughts for myself, to push past them and believe that I should take a shower or put on deodorant, eat something that will make me feel good instead of sluggish and terrible, not because someone tells me to or society expects it of me but because this is the way you treat yourself when you love yourself.

I would never say any of the things I repeatedly say to myself to anyone. I would intervene if I heard someone say “you’re disgusting” to someone I loved. Why can’t I do that for myself? Will I be sixty, seventy, eighty, still treating myself like I’ve done something horrible instead of simply trying to exist in a body that the person who was supposed to love me would be ashamed of?

I think sometimes the goddess (I call her the goddess of light and love – she is my attempt to take back my belief in a power greater than myself) brings my attention to things in the moments I need them most. I was sparked by an email from Self Love Rainbow and a PDF called Self Care for Beginners. It’s been sitting in my inbox, unread. I came to work a few hours early to get organized for the week and spent some time clearing out my gmail. I found the PDF towards the end of the email. I haven't read it yet, but the title really struck me because it was a reminder that I'm not the only one who doesn't know how to love myself. And like validation of any kind, it made me feel less like a freak who can’t manage basic personal hygiene and more like a human who is trying my best.

I guess I wrote this to sort out my feelings but I'm posting it in hopes someone might read it and relate, maybe feel less alone or be a little kinder to themselves in the way they speak.

If you read this and have any resources that you have found helpful, I'd love it if you shared them with me.

I'm Ellie.

I am: cis female, queer, xennial, fannish, neuro-divergent, mentally-ill, eternal optimist, enneagram 4w5 and INFJ.

I have been in fandom since I was seventeen. Backstreet boys self-insert led to Nsync and other popslash. I'm old so I forget the order but then came Supernatural, Bandom (Panic! specifically) One Direction for allll the years, Call Me By Your Name RPF, 5 Seconds of Summer RPF, Roswell, New Mexico, Lonestar 911, and Julie and the Phantoms.

Currently, thanks to a long holiday break, I am OBSESSED with Kinnporsche the series, specifically Kimchay and JeffBarcode.

I love historical (regency) romance, especially KJ Charles and Cat Sebastian and may or may not play in those sandboxes a bit. I'd also love to get my shit together and write my own one day.

If you'd like to know more, here's my snowflake intro from last year where I was SUPER chatty.

I am attempting, once again, to become more involved in fannish things. I have no idea if it will take this time around but since I have a new hyperfixation and a shit ton to say about said fixation, who knows what'll happen.

If I do post regularly, aside from Kinnporsche, I imagine I'll share the ups and downs of spending the next eight months getting ready to move to Paris and the goals associated with the move. Also, excitement related to the release of the Red, White & Royal Blue movie, Heartstopper season 2, new KJ Charles stories, Kinnporsche season 2, and if my wildest dreams come true, a Kimchay spinoff.

I can be found on elliebird and elliebirdwrites.