These elusive endorphins..

Exercise they all said, it will help they all said. Well guess what, I’m still a fat mess, and a depressed one at that.

I tried to gain control over something. This overwhelming sense of depression and upset due to the rape that I have been attempting to fend off was exhausting. It was making me ill, very ill. I was diagnosed with type one diabetes at the age of six. I was a bad diabetic growing up, rebellious with my sugars and insulin regime, not caring at all about repercussions. 

During this time, I wound up on a destructive path. I stopped caring about myself, but then again I suppose that is depression in a nutshell, right? I grew lazy with my injections, half of my insulin requirements, on a good day. Hyperglycaemia and ketones plaguing a standard day, the headaches, the muscle cramps, the dehydration, the nausea, the palpitations, yeah none of that fazed me, and how wrong is that? At the time it seemed right. Silly really. 

Once again I tried to regain control. I went low carb, aiming for under 50g per day, weight loss would make me feel better about myself, wouldn’t it? Maybe if I had a better self image what happened to me wouldn’t happen again, perhaps? What if I was more body confident, stronger? Was it because I looked a certain way? Too weak to push him off? I went from 10st 4lbs to 9st 5lbs and felt fabulous. I started taking exercise. Long walks, long cycles. I love cycling, the freedom of it. The few fast pumps on the pedals and then gliding effortlessly. I also joined the gym, searching for this elusive endorphins that were apparently going to make everything turn from solid shit to solid gold. 

Shall I tell you what really happened at the gym?

Self conscious. I’m very self conscious since the rape. Tight leggings made me feel really vulnerable now, never before, I used to love them before, now it worries me. I won’t do any standing up cardio because yet again, I just feel vulnerable now. Before what happened, I was a typical mid 20s woman, I wouldn’t shy away from attention and I thought nothing of making eyes at someone suggestively. I was confident. Now I like blending in, I want to feel completely unnoticed because it makes me feel safe. Feeling safe is of paramount importance to me now and as stupid as it probably sounds, it was never overly important before. 

After all, if someone who claimed to love me, the same someone who bought me an engraved wedding ring and asked me to elope with him, if that someone could ignore my repeated ‘no’ / ‘stop it’, then common sense would tell me that every man in that gym poses a threat to me. 

I believe I spoke about this, a few blog posts ago. The rape (my ‘life experience’ – hardy har) has seeped into every aspect seemingly. I wish I could manage more visits for the gym without feeling scared or worried. It’s so pathetic isn’t it. So god damn pathetic of me. 

I think about him at the gym, it’s another place I want to send his confession to, poor women working out there alongside him. Him. His fake nice guy act, now we know what he is capable of – no not capable, but what he actually did. 

He thinks he deserves a normal day to day, walking around as if he’s an innocent person. It, he, actually no let’s leave him as ‘it’, far more fitting, I feel. It makes my skin absolutely crawl.


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