My comment on their anxiety was rhetorical, but I agree with what you said.I am certain that in Chantal's teensy little brain, getting coffee at Starbucks doesn't count as fast food because it's a drink, not food. Never mind that it's got at least 250-300 calories of heavy whipping cream in it; it's coffee, it's a drink, and therefore not fast food, and therefore she can use the drive-thru.
The source of their anxiety (and/or depression) is similar to, if not the same as, every fragile genderspecial or other variety of snowflake on Tumblr: It's an acute awareness of (and shame at) their own failure to launch, and dread of what that means for their future.
It's an awareness that they have failed, at some deep level, to develop the ability to function effectively as adults and make their way in the world. Only they can't bear to admit that the problem lies with them, and that they are the only ones who can fix it, so they call it anxiety, and/or depression, thus reframing their internal failings as something that unfairly happened to them, that they can't help, and is totally not their fault.
I'm old, and remember how there used to be plenty of young people who had trouble making the transition to adulthood (myself included), and it was usually due to either being spoiled or neglected (or even both) as kids. Some of us had ADHD or ASD, but didn't even know it. Whatever the cause, we just didn't learn shit we should have learned (including mental habits such as self-discipline and taking responsibility for ourselves or anything else), and a lot of us were socially awkward and/or immature on top of it. Were we anxious because of that? Hell, yes. But back then, throwing up your hands and saying, "I have anxiety!" wasn't even an option. Anxiety was something you felt, not a condition you had. And there was no internet, so there was nowhere to go to get validation and reassurance from other anxious young fuckups simply for being anxious because you had no fucking clue what you were doing, felt irredeemably stupid over it, and were afraid to ask for advice lest you make your stupidity known.
The only way out of that anxiety was through. You had to do shit you were afraid to do until you learned, lesson by (humiliating) lesson, what you needed to learn in order to function--and then, maybe, to succeed. It usually meant staying in shitty jobs and shitty apartments and still missing a lot of adult milestones your age cohort was hitting until you finally turned yourself around (usually in your late 20s or early 30s).
And, frankly, that is still the only way out, assuming you want out.
But people like Jen, Chantal, or Amber don't want a way out. That's because the way out is fucking hard, and the rewards at the end are not guaranteed, because the truth is, life is not fair, and you can't bargain with it ("I know! If I lose 400lbs, you'll make me pretty and give me the perfect life I would have had, had I not been a fatty! Deal?"). In fact, it may even be harder, in many ways, to live as a functional adult, rather than a dependent perpetual child, after having done all the work to get there. For those three fatties, it's going to be loose, hanging skin that is uncomfortable, prone to infections, and hideous to look at. It's going to be ongoing health issues because you can't abuse your body as they have without doing permanent damage.
Jen, no longer being disabled, would lose her tugboat and subsidized apartment and actually have to work for a living. Why the fuck should she ever change? Sure, she's 600lbs and her life is a completely wasted and useless dead end, with no friends, no accomplishments, and nobody (except maybe her poor cat) who will miss her when she dies, but she has plenty of "friends" on the internet who act like they care, and that's a lot more people than she speaks to IRL right know, or would know how to befriend in a (skinnier) future. So yeah, she's going to eat herself to death, because at least the state will keep taking care of her until that happens.
But she still has to live with the spectre of the life she failed to lead--everything she never got to do because she chose to eat herself into immobility instead, and everything she knows she will never get to do, even if she did lose the weight. She got one life, she's completely fucking wasted it, and you cannot tell me she (or Chantal, or Amberlynn) don't know that.
She also has to live with the spectre of her own increasing debility as the body she has abused so badly falls apart--and, ultimately, her death. She knows she's going to die relatively young; she knows it's her fault; and at this point I'm pretty sure she knows that there is nothing she can do to turn it around and buy more time. Her clock is winding down.
And while she doesn't strike me as more than a nominal Christian who likes to play with New Agey crap on occasion, she's from a part of the country that is so thoroughly marinated in Jesus Juice that you can't tell me she hasn't absorbed a lot of it. Which means she may have anxieties about what she's going to tell God after she's killed herself with her own gluttony, and whether she's going to Hell or not (because the Bible is pretty clear on gluttony being a sin, along with laziness and lying).
So yeah, I can see why Jen would feel anxious, and even a sense of crushing panic on occasion. Makes total sense to me, as a consequence of the life she's chosen to lead. Same goes for Chantal and Amber.
Chantal has stated many, many times that some food is worth being fat for. I'm guessing she believes it's worth dying for as well.I will do my best to not powerlevel here, but I'll take my 'mad on the internet' ratings. Her Coffee Time Chat video sent me over.
Chantal is such a pansy. She's so full of shit about her ~*uwu mental health crisis uwu*~ and it's unbearably frustrating to listen to. She has no idea what crippling clinical depression actually feels like, and it's frankly offensive that she considers her self-induced apathy to be a literal crisis. The fact that she would call her psych and potentially take time away from other patients who actually need help is true cow behavior. Moooo, you cunt.
When you have nothing to do, it's easy to fall down a rabbit hole of self-doubt and loathing-- I'm sure many of you can relate. Think of any time you've had an extended break: perhaps you were in between jobs, or had summer vacation, or you experienced the typical four-week-long winter break that is typical for U.S. post-secondary institutions. Yeah, it's nice to not have to worry about actual responsibilities, but sitting on the couch with a bag of Cheetos and binge-watching Netflix or playing 12 hours of Apex Legends every day is unequivocally not the best for your mental state. Even if there's nothing wrong per se, you feel sluggish, unproductive, and gross. This is Chantal every day because she has fuck all to do.
Chantal reinforces this at 1:55: she states that when she left the house and hung out with her mother/went to the farm/went to lunch, she felt "okay" and "functional." Shocking that getting out of the house has a positive effect on your mental. Shocking.
Further, procrastination and/or lacking the motivation to create content (though content here is loosely defined) is a product of being a human being, She acts like it's abnormal to not want to be responsible. It doesn't matter how much you love your job: sometimes, you just don't want to fucking work. That's normal and not necessarily a sign of clinical depression. Everyone feels shitty sometimes, Chantal, and you're not special for it.
Her questioning of the efficacy of her meds is also laughable (and parallels ALR). Medication alone isn't enough. Chantal actually has to put effort into helping herself, but she'd rather sit on her ass and whine about her muh depreshun and muh anxiety. Don't get me wrong: meds are useful and totally can get one back on track, but I doubt they work for our resident heifer because she's, you know, not actually depressed/anxious.
Chantal, all you have to do to improve your mental is fucking go outside and do anything-- walk, exercise, go to the library and read, or go to a coffee shop and work through a free online class. If you fill your days with meaningful outings, I guarantee that you will feel better and make healthier dietary choices. You're not in a crisis. You're just lazy and exceptional.
Chantal has zero interest in changing. Her entire existence revolves around food. Where to get it & when can she eat it. As she's eating, she thinking of the next time she can eat.
She is expecting a doctor to prescribe a magic pill that will make her feel great great but still allow her to lose weight while stuffing her face with everything she loves.
Her only interest in going anywhere, including that farm, was the reward of going out to eat. It's not about seeing new things, learning some History or just enjoying walking around in beautiful weather with a friend, it's about food. That's all she thinks about -'when we're done with this, we can go eat.'
Many of us here have said for years that until she works closely with a psychiatrist for an extended period of time to get her head straightened out, nothing will change. And, nothing has changed.
Chantal keeps going from one fad diet to another & one doctor to another & one pill to another, but NOTHING IS MAKING HER SKINNY. This is what she expects, to be skinny after all her sacrifices.
She will never have surgery.
She will never lose weight.
Whatever her last medical scans showed will kill her, because she will never do anything to reverse things.
The proof she won't change? Her recent weight gains. She is fatter than ever.
At this point, being lazy is the least of her worries. 40 is approaching fast -if she makes it that far.