Too much of what I write about is about me. Sure, I write about my life, so these posts are bound to be about me to an extent, but all this Bella talk gets annoying, am I right? I don’t use nearly enough of this space to write about the important people in my life and the influence they’ve had on me. As such, I want to give a “shout out” to two of the best parents to thank them for being there for me during everything I’ve gone through, constantly supportive and always loving.
As is usually the case with my writing, I started off talking about my latest weight loss adventure and ended up delving into my emotional issues that I not so fondly experienced for almost my entire University career (and maybe a bit before). I don’t know why my posts always turn so self-evaluating – really, I want to be funny, but I guess that’s the writer side of me coming out. It’s therapeutic and cathartic. I have an essay on the therapeutic tendencies of writing if anyone would like to read it! (No?...)
The purpose of this post is to express my gratefulness towards my parents, but also to reach out to anyone who may have gone through what I did. In no way is this intended to be a pity party – yeah, it was hard, but I got through it, and I’m a lot stronger now than I was then. Don't get me wrong - I had and DO have a great life. My experiences in life didn't have anything to do with my depression and, despite the general consensus that it’s easy to “snap out of” or that people just say they’re depressed for attention, believe me, if I really wanted attention, I would get it another way. Depression is nothing to be ashamed of and not something that is in anyone’s control. For the most part, it's a result of a chemical imbalance in your body that can be stabilized with medication (and I LOVE my drugs). I want this post to not only be about my parents, but to also reach out to anyone who’s experienced the really low points that come with depression and to let them know that when all else fails, go to anyone who you know will listen and will try to understand as best they can, whoever that may be.
My parents were front and centre for my few years of debilitating depression. Now, I don’t mean that I was physically unable to get on with my life, and I won’t get into details about how exactly it’s debilitating (trust me, you guys do not want to become that familiar with my mind), but suffice it to say that I feel like I lost a few years of my life to that God forsaken “chemical imbalance”.
Just a wee bit of a digression (it does have a link to my topic in general, I promise): I’ve finally come to terms with why I’m fat. Ready for it? It’s going to be a shocker … I eat too much. Wow, right?! Did not see that coming. Who would have thought that eating too much contributes to weight gain! What a novel idea. Something tells me that second and third helpings are what are preventing me from prancing around in a bikini every day of my life. Yeah, I’d do it.
Anyway, as a result of this revelation and my incessant need to become hot at some point in my life – preferably, like, tomorrow – I’ve recently started doing Herbal Magic, and so far so good. What really motivates me is how on board my parents were when I told them what I was doing. They think it’s great. My mom makes me special fruit salads for lunch so that I am getting the proper amount of fruit servings that I’m supposed to, and my dad sets aside extras of dinner for me to prepare the way I want it to be so that I’m following my meal plan correctly. They’ve been amazingly supportive and helpful, and I firmly believe that their support and encouragement will not only get me to goal, but will also play a huge part in my maintenance success.
I don’t think we give our parents enough credit for what they do and the love that they provide when their kids (ok, me) are hellions to live with. My parents always let me know that they would do whatever they could to help me get better. My mom, especially, was always there to talk and cry to and boy, did I ever do that. I can’t imagine how difficult it was to live with me when I was so irritable, cranky, cried all the time, and wouldn’t leave my room. I mean, hell, I didn’t even want to be around me, so I can’t imagine that anyone else would have wanted to be. I would snap at both of them for no reason, yet they were always there with open arms to give me a hug when I hit those points of indescribable melancholy (thank you for that word, Thesaurus). It was the thought of them that kept me going when I didn’t want to exist anymore, because I knew that, no matter what, they loved me for me, issues and all.
My parents have been constants in my life, always delivering unconditional love and support and forever reassuring me that I can do whatever I put my mind to. They’ve always tried to boost my confidence and tackle the negative self image that I continually project in my every day life (which isn’t easy, because I am very pessimistic – although incredibly hilarious, if I do say so myself). I will be forever grateful to them for everything they’ve done and continue to do for me. I don’t want to say that my parents are better than all the other parents out there but, well, they are. I guess they’re just really good at it.
Love,
Bella
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