I've aged 3 years in these last 3 years

Can you believe it, this blog turns 3 today.

Out of the three years that I've been blogging, this past year has been the most rewarding. It was the year that I let go of the notion of being a goal weight and getting thinner and switched to being happier. Accepting myself, recognising that there are wounds there that continue to hurt and need some attention.

I've learnt a lot, and I know that there is a lot more to learn. As time goes on, this sort of healing doesn't get easier, it gets harder. You deal with the easier things first. You don't realise that they're easy at the time, they feel like the hardest things you could ever deal with. And then you deal with something else, which cuts even deeper, and is relatively harder than what you've just dealt with.

Sometimes, it feels never ending. When you're overwhelmed with how much you're hurting, you feel like throwing your hands up and going "ENOUGH!!! Can't I just deal with the weight and forget all of this emotional shit?!"

There are days when the scale in the bathroom looks at me, and I think about returning to weight loss. Because I know what it's like. The objective is simple - the numbers go down. You do what it takes to get those numbers down. The only problem is that sort of simplicity in a goal is why so many people out there do drastic and dangerous things to themselves, and frustrate the hell out of themselves to do so.

The hardest thing about fat acceptance is being in an environment which is so NOT fat accepting. Now I have nothing against people who want to lose weight and do so by being healthy. What I mean by this is interacting with people who try to interfere with my acceptance of myself and question and puzzle over why I'm not doing anything about my weight.

A few people recently said to me that I've lost weight. I looked at them and said, "It's grief weight. It'll come back on when I'm happy again." I know I've gotten smaller, because today I put on the pants that I wore for my graduation. Which... I haven't been able to wear since my graduation. In September 2007. Since then, I've had several shouting matches with my mother - where she's called me The Meanest And Most Vindictive And Ungrateful Person On The Planet among other things; the one in particular that stays in my head was when she said, "Now maybe you've gotten fitter. I don't know." I shrieked at her, "HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?!!?! I RAN A FUCKING 5KM RACE!!!"

The fact that I am even able to turn around and say this to my mother is a tribute to how much strength I've gained over the past year. That's strength that I wouldn't have built up if it weren't for this blog.

And for you guys.

When I switched from weight loss to fat acceptance, I worried considerably whether many of you would be able to relate to what I had to say anymore. I still sometimes feel a pang of jealousy whenever I read a weigh in post on another blog and see all of the congratulatory messages, remembering how good it felt when I received comments in the same vein.

But the feedback and the comments I get NOW are so much more meaningful to me. I definitely have felt the readership change. Instead of a train of "whoop, great loss!" comments, I have felt care and affection from so many of you. A few of you I have then met in real life thereafter, and the openness of the conversation almost startled me - with how easy conversation flowed and how much we have been able to share.

Back when I started this blog, I would have never been able to reveal that I have a bladder problem. I went to a specialist when I was in high school for months on end to try to sort it out, but we continued to throw money at her without result. My Mum planted the seed and said to the specialist on our first visit to her, "Does she need to lose weight? Could that be causing it?" The specialist said "Possibly." From there on, there was certainty on the part of my Mum and the specialist that losing weight would help the bladder problem.

But it didn't. When I became healthier, I was drinking more water, so my bladder became MORE of an issue as it was being used more. I went back to another specialist and he said that there were probably two options - 1., go on unsubsidised medication that would manage it, but never cure it, or 2., try to manage it on my own. Given that the medication would've cost me $50 every 5 days, I went with the latter option. It still troubles me to this day, but I'm getting better.

It's been troubling me for the three years I've been blogging, absolutely. With some of the events I've done, one of the things that have held me back have been wondering whether I would make it through the event without needing to go to the bathroom. Could I run 5km without going to the bathroom? And if that was a struggle, how on earth would I ever be able to do 10km? The thought of going to a movie makes me nervous because I wonder if I'll be able to watch the whole thing without getting up to go to the bathroom. If I ever passed my RPM and Body Jam module, would I be able to teach a class without having to take a toilet break?

This past year in the blog's life has been about acceptance. Accepting yourself for who you are now, and taking enjoyment in today with that. There's nothing wrong with looking to the future, but there's no need to ignore today.

There are still many more weight related struggles ahead. There are much more painful memories beginning to surface - previously repressed memories, and I know they are surfacing because in some way, my subconscious knows that I have the strength to deal with them now, while in the past I may not have.

One particularly painful memory was when I had a long stretch on bed rest after an operation. I had to have the curtains drawn all the time, couldn't go to school, couldn't watch TV, read books, draw, play with toys, or go outside. All I had was me and my thoughts, and my thoughts were not happy. I craved attention so much, but when my family came home from work, they were distracted with their activities, and only came in to help me put eye drops in and whinge about what an inconvenience I was.

A year before this, my Mum had flippantly said, "It's a shame we can't get a knife and cut all of your fat off."

I haven't ever mentioned this to anyone before, but as an 8 year old, at home, alone with my thoughts, I attempted this. After all, I'd just been through some pretty invasive surgery, this would be a piece of cake. God knows if cutting yourself didn't hurt so bloody much, who knows what kind of damage I would've inflicted. I could've cut through a major organ or something like that - but being so young, I didn't have any comprehension of the danger. I didn't cut very deep, and the scar has very much faded, but the thought of hating myself that much and following what my Mum had said THAT much is terrifying.

Even though the weight loss journey is over, there is still a lot of healing to do. I will continue to get fitter and healthier, and this extends to both mental and physical aspects of my being.

Happy Birthday, blog. I look forward to many more years with you.