Those of you who are of a certain age might remember this track. Perhaps the finest track on Scoundrel Days… This song held a lot of meaning for me when I was younger, and I never really understood why.
Now, nearly forty years after its release, I think I know why…
I tried to talk about my relationship with food and self-harm in my recent blog. It was met with criticism about being attention-seeking and that hurt. The things I share, are shared in the hope that just one person reads them and thinks ‘I am not alone’.
But that hurt isn’t what this blog is about. This blog is about weight. The mental and physical weight that I carry, hence choosing the track.
My mental weight is something I speak about often, though no one really knows the entirety of what I carry. I am determined to speak freely about it all one day; but for now, you just need to know that in my 52 years (nearly) I’ve seen a fair bit of trauma. Abuse weighs heavy, as does the expectations of others. That’s before you’ve got to the pressure that you add yourself to that already heavy load.
The thing with trauma, is it always finds a way to come out, I am convinced of this.
For many years it was risky behaviour, which I have talked about before. I drank too much, far too much, and mixed the alcohol with prescription drugs. It was a heady mix. I would have never called myself addicted, but I know that I have that sort of personality.
All or nothing…
Then one day, something snapped inside of me. I decided to end my own life. Of course, I didn’t, I am still here. But that point sat in my attic room in Crookes, Sheffield, is a memory I will never forget.
At that point, I decided to get help, for the first time…
When I look back to then, my head was a mess, but my body wasn’t really. I’d had a back injury a couple of years before, but I was in good shape otherwise. I walked everywhere until I had my accident, and although I lived a life of excess in many ways; food was incidental in my life.
That all started to change when I decided to stop drinking so much. I thought I was doing really well, I’d stopped drinking to escape, and I was on meds that suited me. But then I entered an abusive relationship, and the drinking started to ramp up a bit.
I was telling a colleague recently about going out on a Friday night and walking back through the centre of Sheffield at 2am, pissed, and alone. I had no fear, I was invincible; until I walked through the front door of my house.
Ironically, I left one abusive relationship and got into another. But they’re not really the point.
The point is that when I stopped using alcohol to blot out the feelings, I switched to food.
Food is way harder to kick for me. I need to eat to survive, but it’s also more socially acceptable these days for women to eat more and enjoy food. Everyone is a foodie, right?
This is my struggle, this is now my demon.
I did have a period around 2016/2017 where I lost a load of weight. But lack of food, or at least the restriction around food didn’t help my need; so I started to over-exercise. I trained 5 to 6 days a week, not eating a balanced enough diet (thanks slimming club for fucking me up even more when it comes to food)
The weight fell off, but I became more obsessed with hitting the next running goal or swinging a heavier kettlebell.
Some of you might be reading this thinking this is all normal behaviour, well I am not sure for me it was. Because whilst all this was going on, I wasn’t really addressing what was causing me the pain and trauma. I was using other things to mask it and mask it well.
Fast forward to March 2025, and I am sitting here mentally a lot lighter; with several rounds of therapy and EFT under my belt, I would. But physically I am heavier. I started using food again as a soothing mechanism.
Trauma finds its way out, right?
I talk a lot about having to have one foot on the ground to feel ok. That could come from family, work or whatever. Recently I’ve been feeling like I am struggling to keep grounded. That is starting to change a little, but it’s been an uncomfortable ride for the last 3 or 4 years. Culminating with my physical body weighing more than it has done in about 10 years, and she’s screaming at me.
The first step to creating change is to be aware. I am very much aware.
I am aware of being out of puff going up a flight of stairs, not being able to move as freely as I used to, and generally just not being happy with how I feel within my body.
The good news is I am doing something about it. I’ve signed up to work with a PT again, for 6 months, and I am hoping that this time I can have a more balanced approach.
In some respects, this is not about the weight, whilst that does upset me somewhat, it’s about being able to live the life I want. Ultimately the physical body I inhabit is the least interesting thing about me – although I do choose to decorate it nicely.
But what about the reason the aforementioned track speaks to me now?
But you want to lose
The weight of the wind
Rests hard on your shoulders
Bringing you down
The one that you love
Will never be found
The one that I love? For perhaps the first time in my life, I’ve realised that the one is me… and that is something I am working on – watch this space!
Not Middle Aged 