Grieving skinny pants and lost selves…

Skinny Pants…for my readers that do not battle weight issues, let me explain this concept.  When people gain weight, they will often hold on to their previous clothing.  They do this because letting go of the clothes means letting to of the dream of getting back to that weight.  I used to be guilty of this myself…until I finally learned to tell myself, that when (it helps if I say when not if) I lose the weight, I will celebrate with NEW skinny clothes.  That helps because who doesn’t love buying clothes in a smaller size?!

It may be stretching things to make a point (sort of like when you lie on the bed and try to zip those pants…don’t try to tell me you haven’t done that!) but I think that holding onto the skinny pants is a form of grieving.  Grieving your thinner, healthier self.  It doesn’t seem like such a stretch if you notice how quickly we throw out those “fat” clothes when we lose weight. 

As I work on what I hope will be my Healing Journey, I am grieving for my “skinny self”.  Not skinny in a literal sense, but skinny in that I liked the old me a lot better than this new one.  Well, that is not entirely fair…I’ll explain.

The old me : BAT….before awareness of trauma self…(how do you like that acronym?) many times I have said to my Therapist, “Since I have been in therapy I have been (fill in something negative)….”   And he says, “So therapy is doing that to you?”  or something like that.  I smile and say, “No, I mean since before the memories started coming back.”  I can never quite figure out if he is teasing me a little (my therapist does have a sense of humor) or if he really is just clarifying if I think being in therapy has caused these feelings.  Anyway…

BAT…I was different.  I tend to immortalize that part of my life in the same sense that we immortalize one who has died.  You know what I mean, once someone dies we tend to forget all their faults and shortcomings and think and speak only good of them.  That is likely appropriate.  However, to immortalize my BAT self, is not entirely fair.  I think of that me as being happier, more at peace, more spiritual, more…insert anything good here.  And yet, in my new awareness of self I have to wonder, was the BAT me even real? 

What I mean is, now that I am becoming aware of this tornado of feelings and nightmarish memories that I have lying below the surface of consciousness, I have to admit that BAT me was a “false front”.  Someone I created to deal with the world, and to hide the pain at all costs.  Thus, I waver between idolizing the BAT me, and thinking that perhaps BAT me was some sort of “Stepford Wife”.  (If you haven’t see the movie, you MUST…I can’t do it justice here.)  But if BAT me, was not real. . . then who am I really? 

This question scares me. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so scary IF like an old pair of skinny jeans, I let BAT me go, and allow the healing process to unfold.  Is it possible that healing will bring a new me that I will love…like shopping for new skinny clothes?

Perhaps…but I can’t let go without a little more grieving time first.

What do you think?

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