Weighing on My Mind: How My Fluctuating Weight Affects My Mental Stability

By: Natasha Aidoo

There have been times in my life when my self-image and weight went hand in hand with my emotional and mental balance. It’s been a challenge to separate the two. I’ve worked on building a better relationship between my physical self and my attempts to reach a state of psychological well-being. These two central aspects, my approach to food and the way I see myself, have a cause-and-effect relationship. When I realized this connection, I was more able to analyse and grasp the impact of this intersection. 

Ever since adolescence, I've had issues with the perception of my exterior self. I felt inadequate and blamed my weight for it. Adding to this, relatives and family friends would comment on how I looked, whether I gained or lost. It made the situation more complicated and confusing. How could people notice what I didn't? Why was it so important? Why did a simple comment make me feel so uncomfortable and vulnerable? It's a weird process to look back with an analytical lense to instances in the past that I just lived through and didn't properly dissect at the time. Doing it now is painful but useful. I wish I could tell my younger self to focus on her interior equilibrium rather than stressing about something as fleeting and fluctuating as weight. And to consider the burden of the dysfunctional environment she was living in, adding to her low self esteem. 

I started convincing myself that losing weight was the only way to improve myself and to fight the loneliness and unhappiness I was experiencing. I became obsessed by it. I would starve myself, walk and exercise for hours, and check my weight daily. I needed to reach a goal and I wouldn't stop nor be satisfied until I achieved it. This went on for a while, but I don't actually remember for how long. I know I was in high school and that I went through a lot during those five years. The fact that I couldn't express the array of negative thoughts and emotions I felt led me to develop counterproductive behaviours and coping mechanisms. Things changed slightly when I left my small town for university. I was free, on my own, and ready to jump into this new adventure. I felt better, but it wasn't enough. My old habits and the lack of appropriate tools to deal with depression, low self esteem, and anxiety overwhelmed me. Unable to understand that the new found freedom didn't have to coincide with emotional recklessness and constant distraction from digging into my true self, I felt pushed towards apathy, isolation, unhealthy eating patterns, and indifference. As soon as I admitted to myself that something wasn't right, took action by going to a psychologist and began challenging and changing my attitude and behaviour, I could start knowing who I really was, why I was taking certain decisions and seeking activities and people who enriched my existence. Then I chose to get into shape for health reasons, to cut out time from my day to walk in order to clear my mind and take a break from the academic pressure, to enjoy the act of taking care of myself. 

It hasn't been an easy process. In these last two years, the approach to my weight can be identified with two expressions: "exercise as an escape" and "losing weight as a form of taking control over my life." In the first case, I’m referring to the first months of my stay in Siena, the city in central Italy where I did my Master’s. Although I was excited to finally move there, once I arrived, I was confronted with the crushing feeling of loneliness, of being an outsider, even in the academic space, and of not being enough. They were difficult months that, again, made me focus on something I was able to do: exercise and diet in a compulsive way. My only comfort was represented by music. I hid in, wandered, and explored its lands endlessly. She was (and still is) my loyal companion. Several months later, when friends, a boyfriend, and academic achievements came into the picture, I went back to perceiving my daily walks as special moments for myself. On those walks, I combined staying healthy with taking photographs of nature and simply inhaling fresh air. 

            This was all fairly recently, in June of this year, and at the same time, I was looking for a job after graduation, adjusting my expectations and perspective to the circumstances, and slowly recovering from a severe depressive episode. The passage from not caring about anything, viewing any effort as meaningless and constantly taking suicide into consideration to trying to regain control over my existence, happened unconsciously. I realized that laying in bed with no purpose and wandering around at home, sad and incapable to communicate the depth of my despair to anyone, made me more miserable. Environment, society, and life left me without agency. I felt lost, powerless, and weak. So, having a healthy attitude about what I ate didn't matter. I wanted food to comfort me. I looked at the mirror and didn't like what I saw: since my internal wellbeing would take a long and continuous effort, my first step consisted in working on taking charge over how I saw myself. 

          Nature soothes me, so I decided to spend time there. Walking through countryside fields is a form of therapy for me. I concentrate on the landscapes, on my music, and the sounds surrounding me. I think about my worries, my plans, and my desires. I don’t mean overanalyzing but rather trying to be mindful and to leave anxiety in the background. It's a daily exercise. I believe in the heart-warming quality of food, so the necessity to modify my already healthy habits has been an interesting journey. I don't want to slim down for the sake of it. I want to reach a satisfying point and then stop. For myself and no one else. It's more than a series of numbers on a scale, it's me trying to apply this determination to other areas of my life and to understand that some results take time. 

       I'm still learning to adopt the correct point of view. Not to be anxious of an ideal version of me, but to take the time to observe the little steps I'm taking towards what matters to me. To see myself through the lens of compassion and patience: my mental health issues and my weight do not define me. I'm growing and adjusting. Even if, time after time, I shatter into pieces that are difficult to put back into place, I'm trying my best​. Even though each heartbreaking episode leaves its scars and pieces of knowledge. 

I started writing this piece with conviction, but after the first paragraph, it left me stranded. Days passed by and the thought of facing such intricately vulnerable topics seemed too daunting. I also wondered about how truthful I wanted to be with you, the reader, and realized that I had to be honest with myself. I can't accept knowing that I didn't put my truths onto this page, no matter how painful they might be. I finally picked up the courage to reconsider the past and reflect on the present. This introspective exercise has meant so much and has allowed me to have a better understanding of myself.