running to stand still

I tend to avoid putting my feeling in words when I feel shame for the feelings, when I think I could’ve handled the matters “better” - with more control, not have gone the old habit route. Just now - I checked my phone twice, opened another tab, then checked the phone again, just to not keep writing. The truth is, to face it, I need to feel it and free it. While I have no troubles with feeling it, I have a trouble freeing it and giving it a name. 

Why is it that every time I push myself past my bodily comfort limit, I accept it as an invitation to self-mutilate further, and the voice of reason in my head gets shut down as I numb my feelings of discomfort, anger, guilt, loneliness, sometimes even just tiredness. I need healthier coping mechanisms, and a hobby - I need something to look forward to, I am having trouble creating my own meaning, knowing that everything is meaningless; is it? I avoid writing about my feelings and letting it out, hoping that they will magically organize themselves in my head and things will finally start clicking, and I will unlearn old habits overnight. Needless to say, I set myself up for a disappointment every time. 

I think (?) I am done continuously self-sabotaging and hoping to start my better, “real” life tomorrow. Today is just good of a day as any, this exact time 7:34 pm on April 7th, 2022 is the perfect time and moment for me to use my best judgement and loose any inhibitions. 

The truth is, tomorrow never comes and the ever-so-exhausting cycle of self-adoration and self-loathing looses its appeal once the damaging effects and consequences of either start to overlap. What I am observing now is that all my previous promises to self that failed, brought me to exactly why I made all those promises - to remaining the same old me that I wanted so desperately to break away from. But do not be fooled, I am not saying buh-bye to it quite yet, I love old me  (loathe it too, but mostly love) - it got me to where I am after all. So the plan is to share the power with that crusty old me, and spanking brand new me, who is so eager to change and revolutionize herself and the world around. Having learned from the past mistakes, the revolution will be of a tame nature. I am older, I am wiser (?), and again, I still do love the old me. 

My body -  something I have made a stumbling block, when I should’ve empowered it to empower me. I somehow got so wrapped up in achieving ever-changing ideal in my head, that failed to realize and remember what it looks like, what it acts like, what it feels like without overeating and overindulging, followed by bouts of oppressive exercise and chewing raw kale and convincing myself that I am loving all the nutrients that I am getting (stuck in my teeth that is), and without fake tan, lingerie put on to appease the view of yet another fleeing romance.  A re-discovery is needed, very much so. I took a note in my work journal earlier today, that food stopped to be enjoyable for me, as I yo-yo between treating it as a routine and punishment, to overindulging to make up for punishing to a point when sugar stops tasting sweet. Nutrition became a chore, a daunting and challenging one, the one that I am never quire sure if I am doing right. All mental energy is geared at supporting the obsessed ideal that never even fully formed in my head, but was supported by hearing (and hating to hear) the off comments about my thick thighs and great bubbly butt. I lost my joie de vivre chasing an elusive nothing.  I intend to take it back. 

Before I try to retype from memory the draft I was doing to post, but then pressed command + C on Youtube link, and off it went - lol @ myself trying to be deep and finding just the right song to describe how I feel.  But here it is: 

Ну что же ты молчишь. Опять  Играешь сам с собою в прятки  И до тебя достать рукой пока достать смогу я вряд ли.

Я знаю точно и давно  Что завтра ровно как сейчас,  Ты сам найдешься, и придешь, и будешь виновато извиняться.