This post by writer Erica Orloff brought tears to my eyes.
If you’ve been following this blog since a few years back, you’d know of the struggle I have with my weight, my body and food.
I’m not fat, by any measure. My weight currently hovers at 47kg, and I’m 1.65m tall. The heaviest I ever got was 52kg. The lowest: 39kg. That was during my junior college years, when I was 17, and I was fixated with getting everything right and perfect. My grades, my weight. The more people believed in me, the more I pushed myself to be the person they expect me to be. I mean, if people trust in your abilities, the worst thing you can do is let them down, right?
I don’t know if it’s a Libra thing, but I hate disappointing people, making them upset or regret being in my company. I’m a people pleaser, and sometimes I just want to say fuck it, but I can’t. Much as I try not to care about what people think of me, I care too much. Which is why I find it easier to be alone. Free from expectations and demands from others.
I know it’s a terribly wrong mindset to have, and I should get over my fear of meeting and knowing people and putting myself out there by going out and, you know, meeting and knowing people. But introversion isn’t necessarily a bad thing; neither is me-time. I do like meeting new people – it’s what comes after that is tiring. You can’t be all “hello, goodbye” acquaintances anymore, you have to put in the effort to know the person. And it feels harder to open up to people as we get older.
It feels harder to let go.
Erica advised, “Have a cupcake without punishing yourself. LET GO of the guilt you have about food.”
Let go. Such simple, freeing words. But how infinitely more difficult it is to put into action.