What this blog was intended for

What would people think of me if I told them that I wanted to be fat? Say, fatter than I already am?

Would they judge me and shake their heads? Why would I want to do something so harmful to my health?

Fat is bad. Fat is lumpy and unbecoming. It must be true, it’s on the television, and the internet.

Fat bashing is part of the menu, right next to the fried onion rings.

I have had this crazy notion in my mind for awhile now, and today I found a website devoted to gaining weight on purpose. I think that I might give it a try.

This isn’t a funny post, my friends. It runs deeper than just wanting to see my belly jiggle.

The truth is, I have been having passive suicidal thoughts. I feel that I am just going through the motions of living. Each day is a painful reminder of the person I once was. I have limited interest or passion in anything. I awake each day to a blank, bleak canvas. My paint supplies have gone dry.

I admitted this to my husband, that maybe if I reached 300 pounds, I wouldn’t live a very long life. Obviously this upset him greatly, but holding onto this poison in my heart has become far too difficult to bear alone.

I write it down for myself, to release my darkest thoughts. This is what this blog was originally made for.

I try so hard to regain my health, both mental and physical. I don’t think that I want to continue to plug away at redemption. I just want to, as I love to say, let it be.

Just screw it and give in to the inevitable.

I am afraid to publish this post. I don’t want to frighten anyone. I just needed to admit to this rancid garbage, my little plan that I have concocted.

Give in to a body that has given up on me.

49 thoughts on “What this blog was intended for

  1. There’s strength in speaking your truth, and no shame in admitting that you’d like to surrender. But I know you, and you’re too stubborn to go down easy. Remember what I wrote this morning – we won’t hurt anymore, but the ones who love us will. And I know you wouldn’t do that to T and Baby B and your mom and the pups.

    Talk to your therapist when you see her. Keep talking to us. Write about it, yell about it, paint or write poetry or roll your joints artistically about it – just keep going.

    I’m here, the whole rest of the afternoon is open. I love you. <3

  2. Very moving post. And courageous!

    This might be out of place – but what do you eat? I know, from personal experience and similar experiences in my very large family, that GAPS eating, Paleolithic diet, Primal diet, Cave man diet, Tim Noakes “Banting” eating, can change illnesses. In my case, Diabetes, in my granddaughter’s case terrible excema, in my sister’s case crippling Rheumatoid arthritis and more. So I wondered what you eat? With love

      • Well, I have a heavy one and I am strongly considering using it!

        I understand, but you have to know how frustrated I am with you right now. We’ve discussed all this and you’ve ignored me.

      • My mind doesn’t like to absorb rational thought when I get like this…I try to fight this battle with good advice and loving words from the people that care for me. I wouldn’t blame you for using that frying pan, if only it would just work.

      • You’ve been given good advice. I’m not great with the whole “loving words” aspect of life, I’m not a soft person, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love or care about someone.

        Don’t tempt me with the frying pan. I have yet to miss, and you’ve frustrated me beyond words. Of course, you wouldn’t be the first person to do that this week.

  3. I’ve been there. I totally understand the concept of passive suicide. But we love you and need you and you do have a purpose. Don’t give up, bear.

    • I know you understand, and that gives me a sense of belonging that I desperately need, Goldfishy…I don’t really want to give up, but these thoughts just plague the fuck out of me. :( I love you all, as well.

  4. Mer I’m so glad that you blogged about it, this means you’ve got fight left in you. I’m so so sorry that you’re suffering. I wish I could just come and sit with you. xo

  5. Mer, I understand where you are coming from. Please don’t do it cuz I’m not afraid to follow you. Hugs, hun.

  6. Hugs Mer. And trust me. That kind of suicide doesn’t work. I’ve tried it twice now. By the time I get heavy enough to get sick, I get over my dark moods and what to fight. Then I have the weight to fight even more. So trust me when I tell you. You don’t want to do it. The darkness passes Mer, the weight takes a hell of a long time to pass. I’m fighting the weight thing right now, because I’ve found people that care about me even in my darkest. They are worth fighting for. They make me feel worth it too.

    • Like you all have made me feel…the darkness seeps in when I am alone and afraid. Afraid of the pain, and the complete exhaustion I feel. Our minds play tricks on us.
      Thank you, Jackie…for being so honest with me about this..x

  7. Maybe the fact that you did publish this means you are hoping you won’t do it. I do understand having those thoughts as I have been there more than once in my life, although for different reasons.

    • I’m sorry you have been there, it’s not a nice place to be. Publishing this was probably one of the best choices that I have made in a long time. x

  8. Homer Simpson gained weight to get to 300 pounds just to get on disability. He wore a moomoo and pretty deft looking beret on his head, but it’s somehow less funny to hear you talk about it. I agree that it’s good that you talked about what’s eating you up. Don’t be ashamed of it. Like you said, that’s what the blog was for anyway. More of us than we can imagine are going through a lot of the same struggles. If we share our pain, then we can all help each other relate and to cope! Hang in there, baby! (Visualize funny cat poster here).

    • Thanks, Don. It’s so difficult to admit to such things, but I am glad I did. And yes, I remember that episode of The Simpsons….Peter Griffin did the same exact thing…I will hang in there…like that cat.

  9. Funny that both of our plans deal with food – morbidly funny, I guess. You know I’m allergic to meat, so I often think that I should eat a big, juicy cheeseburger and then walk off into the woods where no one can find me until it’s too late.

    I’m sorry you feel like this. I am really down right now too. I feel useless and like I’m a burden and I don’t know how to fix it. Step one, get my ass back in therapy. Called today and made an appointment – for December. There’s a waiting list for crazy around here.

    *hugs* and I hope we both see the light soon, even if just for a bit.

    • That settles it, we are both morbid as hell.
      I am so sorry that you are also down. Fibro is a soul sucker of an illness. I think even the strongest of us feel like throwing in the towel now and then.
      A waiting list for crazy…I can relate..I had to go down to the Cleveland mobile crisis unit, at a homeless shelter..talk about being scared straight.
      *Hugs* Here’s to a ray of light for both of us, very soon.

  10. You are strong for saying it out loud, if anything. Hopefully you’ll find something inspiring to get rid of those thoughts. I feel really sorry that you feel that way and no matter how much hopeless things seem please don’t think that suicide or anything like it is the answer. Please believe.

  11. Unfortunately for both of us I know EXACTLY how you feel. To make things even better today I forgot to put on my lidocaine patch before coming to work. I barely make it through most days at work but now I have to work in an area where I have to not only stand 10 hrs I have to walk around the shop like thirty million times. I swear sometimes I truly believe it would be less painful to cut off my leg with a dull butter knife. This all coming from someone who not even a month ago spent 4 days in the psyche ward. I am probably worse now then I was when I admitted myself!

  12. I’m glad you are still able to use this blog for what it was intended for, the freedom to write out your feelings and pains freely. And, I hope writing out these dark thoughts has been helpful.
    Hugs, my friend. As Fishie said, you are loved.

  13. Sometimes we have to get the thoughts out for others to hear. Sometimes just saying it makes it feel better – whether we really mean it or intend it. And if you really do, that’s okay too. You can’t just “change” how you feel. ((HUGS)).

  14. I’ve been there girl. Not with food but I used to drink a long time ago & figured I’d drink myself into an early grave. Listen to Mental Mama up there. She says it way better than I could. I care about you even though that’s hard to tell sometimes through a computer screen. I could write so much more but this is not the place. You can email me anytime.
    Write it out but stick in there for us.

I love your comments, but be nice...I cry easily.

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