recurring thoughts

The only person I call ugly is me. It's my fucked up way of pushing myself to improve my appearance or at least try harder and also to be self-aware. I learned how to put on basic makeup and started working out in 2020. I've shed 10 kgs by now I think. It's one of my biggest achievements. But I noticed that despite everything I do, nothing is ever enough. I don't like giving myself random breaks unless absolutely necessary. That's what my periods are for. Even if I do, I beat myself up about it. Or more accurately, my brain beats me up. Whenever I don't work out, I go down a deep and dark spiral. Suddenly, every insecurity I have gets their own spotlights. Nothing is left in the dark and everything's out in the open. It hurts so much when I want to enjoy the food I eat only to regret it right after. It's irritating that when I do workout, my mood gets better and I start becoming a bit more lenient with myself. From there on, the cycle continues.

I hate pitying myself but at the same time, I know I need it. I obviously won't take it from anyone else. Hell, I haven't even told my best friends about this and I tell them almost everything. But I guess I do keep quiet about struggles as personal as this. At the end of the day, I know I need some sympathy. And who better to give it to me than myself? I know me better than anyone else. I know every single struggle better than anyone. And yet, despite this, it's me who's the most insensitive to myself. I push myself. I let myself get beat up by these spirals and then make myself pick up the pieces before climbing back up.

But I do admit, that sometimes, some pieces are so small that I can't pick them up and lose sight of them before making the climb. They usually take so much time to heal only to get shattered again when I take another fall. I think what hurts more than pulled muscles and wasted time is that I'm aware of all this, yet I know I can't stop any of it. Not yet.