I've spend the last just about six months in the gym, five days a week, usually, and four months of that with a trainer. The results have been great! Twenty pounds gone and lots of obvious muscle, which is nice for an old person like me.
Yesterday, at the request of a guy I'm going to be doing some video work for, I had to subject myself to studio head shots. I did my own, in my own studio, because I can, and because it's a pretty unpleasant option to be on THAT side of the camera - and it's a good thing to do for someone who isn't usually on that side; sure increases the compassion for my clients, who also hate it....
The unfortunate result for me, however, is getting to the editing part, which opened the floodgates of self-loathing.
This is, I suspect, a feature for many survivor-children - meaning those of us who are adults who come from shitty family situations. I see that meme floating about the internet often - the one where some disabilities aren't obvious. Definitely the case.
It's a struggle. Some days, not much, and sometimes I get a reprieve of a day or two and sometimes a week or two even. Most of the time, this dislike (this is a mild term in my case) of self is a constant companion, who occasionally just shuts up for a while.
There are so many things I resent about how my mother raised me but at the top of what is, sad to say, a very long list, are this persistent self-loathing and the cell-deep lack of confidence that comes with it.
I can't stand people who live their lives as victims, so I don't wallow - today I am, yes. But it is a struggle every single day to not bog down in the fog of ever-present depression, and to not give in to the desire to finally drown in it and have it just come to an end.
