I want to love myself. But for the last six months I just haven't. I've eaten so much food that's bad for me and watched so many mind-numbing hours of TV and movies and read blog posts about how getting healthy will make me feel better and how accepting who I am now will make me feel better and how giving myself up to God's will will make me feel better.
And I don't feel better.
I felt like I did for a few weeks, after I finished reading Sister Oaks's book A Single Life. But it's soothing effects didn't last very long. I woke up from the stupor of peace it put me only to wake up still addicted to food, addicted to believing I'm worthless without a significant other, addicted to wanting to succeed and feeling like a failure in every way.
I know I should go to a doctor and ask for help, but I'm afraid to do that. Last time I sought help from a medical doctor for depression, he refused to give me medication for it because I wasn't depressed enough. Which only served to reinforce my feelings of inadequacy.
I've been to therapists before, and several of them were helpful to me, but I don't think I'll believe any of it has worked until someone looks at me and loves me.
But no man ever does. And it just suffocates me, my desire to have that, to feel fulfilled and wanted by someone in a romantic way. And when I can't have it, I just shove my face full of feeling-suppressing sugar and watch movies that will make me laugh and think and forget, if only for a few minutes.
My dreams have turned into bitter nightmares, and I don't even have the will to pursue them anymore. I just wish I could escape all of it, turn off my mind and be gone. I know I'm not supposed to feel that way, but I do.
Enough is enough. This is enough.