Sea Isle City 2018: It’s Hurting Again
Yesterday was day one of my vacation, and I was going to write a post about how it went but I ended up getting ridiculously tired and fell asleep. I wish I could say that the change of scenery to something more beautiful was enough to get rid of my depression or at least tame it, but it’s clearly not. Nothing bad even happened per say. It was purely all mental and I was torturing myself with negative thoughts.
It sucks being the fat one on vacation. I am refusing to put on my bathing suit this year.
I tried it on, and it still fits just like it did last year, but I was ashamed to even look at myself in the mirror. I know I am seeing myself as being bigger than I am – I think. Because I feel like I look like those individuals on that show My 600 lb Life. I am by no means fat shaming, so please don’t take what I am saying wrong. But I don’t even weigh close to that and when I look at myself in the mirror, that is what I see.
Then it seems like everyone in my boyfriends “extended” family just had a baby or is having a baby, and I was told I cannot have children so I feel left out and I feel like I am missing out on something great constantly which down here. My boyfriend has two kids and being here with one of them, even though I love her dearly, is a constant reminder of that. And he doesn’t want any more kids anyway, so if I want to be with him – which I do – children wouldn’t be an option anyway. And I was told by my doctors that after I get this bariatric surgery that getting pregnant would suddenly become an option for me. I guess it doesn’t matter though. And no one would ever realize how much it is kind of like a slap in the face when people start talking about their own children.
Yesterday I was even subjected to having to listen to how Mike met his one baby’s mama and how they had their daughter. Like doesn’t anyone give a simple fuck that his current girlfriend is standing RIGHT THERE? Talk about awkward for me. It’s not like I ever stand there talking about how my ex-boyfriend knocked me up and then three days after finding out that I was pregnant I had a miscarriage. Oh hahaha, that would have been a great f-ing story to tell since everyone was talking about how his daughter was conceived.
I know I am letting my own negativity run rampant inside my mind which is increasing my depression but I cannot turn it off. I am going to try to do something positive to try to get myself out of this funk.
Until Next Time…