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Trick or Me

16 Jan

Over my life I have noticed how people judge others by their looks. Whether they are clean, dirty, nice hair or messy, how they dress and how they carry themselves. We are all guilty of it….don’t deny it! Now, forming an opinion about a person because of their looks is a different beast completely. Not all of us do that, that is for sure!

141020-080000I have been in different situations and jobs and been around a plethora of different people my entire life, and I have changed my appearance daily. Some days I don’t feel like doing my hair and makeup, so I go around with a hat on or a messy pony tail and wear joggers or yoga pants, making an effort every single day can be trying, especially when you have a mental disorder. I notice every time how people treat me differently when I go out. If I have no make up and a ponytail, they don’t really notice me and I hardly get any eye contact. I usually feel like others think that I am someone who is just a plain Jane woman, nothing interesting, nothing extraordinary, but people talk to me. On the other hand, when I do my hair nicely and put on makeup, I get completely different reactions from others. Now, before this sounds egotistical, I have a big blonde curly mane of hair. It is my greatest physical asset, and people notice it. So, they see the hair, they take a second look, Im usually always smiling at people, and I see that they actually take a minute, look at my face and into my eyes and smile. People engage me in conversation more and don’t try to get me out of the way fast.0

Now, it is not everyone else, it is me. I know this. I thought at first that everyone was so damn judgemental of appearance, but now, I don’t think that as much. Of course, some people are guilty of it, but for the most part I think that I am the one that changed my own attitude! I took the effort to show pride in my appearance. I am the one who decided to show the best of what my hair can do, and how I can change the beauty of my face. I, in turn feel better about myself, I hold my head higher, I walk taller and have more confidence. I changed the perception that I have of myself. I did that.

I used to think that I would think of myself the same no matter what, but when I get decked out and gussied up, well….I feel like I could take on the world! I feel pride in myself. It gives me a much needed boost. People notice that. Friends and family who see you all the time, they know!

I never usually wear makeup. I don’t go anywhere except to work and home. Why do I need to wear makeup? Do I need it? My husband says no, but then again, he says I look extra beautiful when I am dressed up. I haven’t regularly worn makeup since 2003. On the rare occasions when I do, I feel fantastic! Now, I have tricked myself! If I feel crappy and blue, like I’m a big piece of shit days, I am going to put some makeup on, do my nails and say screw you to the mirror….take that! Ha!

I might just keep this trick in my pocket and use it every so often. Even though my kids say I look scary with the smallest amounts of eye make up on! Ha Ha!

What do YOU think?20160301_172231

Wake Up!

12 Jan
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Morley, WIDE AWAKE!!!

I know I am not the only one guilty of being asleep while living my life, we all do it at some point or other. It is pretty easy to do and usually I have no idea I am doing it until I have a clarifying moment, or day, or week! I don’t know what made me notice, but I did. I have been too consumed with what is going on inside my own head and heart, I had lost sight of what is right in front of me…..my family, my life, everything. I told you, having an anxiety disorder/depression, etc. is a very selfish affliction. I noticed how obsessive I was becoming about how I felt every single day, how hurt I have been, how messed up my emotions have let me get. I was in my head so much, that I was making myself even more upset and depressed and anxious than usual. Then, I saw a flicker of light. Hey! My kids are my life now, I can’t breathe a full deep breath without them, why am I so glum? It is because I have been going around in a dream like state, all hazy and dulled. I chose to wake the hell up! Give your head a shake! I said to myself. Quit this shit now! And, in all honesty, it might not stick, like a country dirt road, there is some smooth driving where nothing worries you, but once you hit the bumps and loose gravel, you have to be careful! There is always, always, always a bump(s) you just have to hold on and go safely until you hit the smooth parts again. Like my weight problem….up and down, up and down. Some days I think, Hey! This is me! I am still beautiful and my family and friends love me…that’s all I need. Then, I have days that I think Ugh! I am a gross and disgusting piece of waste! I am a big flabby mess!

So, I gave my head a shake, and nothing came loose! Ha! But, my vision came into focus and I could actually hear things clearly as well.

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Adam & Morley about 3 years ago

So, I have been recently researching things to do with my kids. I want them to have a mom who is present, in the moment and for them to know that I like them and can have fun with them without having to be so bossy all the time and too focused on other things that I don’t even look at them when they even ask me a question.  While I was reading blogs and lists and such, I came upon someone who wrote about how she used to be so focused on work, that she barely looked at her daughter when she was talking to her, her eyes were always on a screen of some sort, then she had a clarifying moment and made a change to look at her child, and everytime her daughter came into the room, she would then make the effort and just do a simple thing and smile at her. She saw the result right away when her daughters face lit up and smiled a big grin back at her! It really is the little things that make a big difference. So, now, I smile at my kids more. I look them in the eyes so they know I am listening. They are more attentive and they talk to me more and laugh with me more. I woke up. It’s so bizarre, like I was in a coma while living daily life.

be-happyThis morning I got ready for work, before I left, I went to the bedroom where my husband was semi awake, and I kissed his face all over, making him giggle. Now, that might have just started his day a little more happier, which could have a nice effect on how he is with the kids and people at work and his over all feeling for the day. Who knows? I know for sure that something like this wouldn’t make his day start on a bad note!

So, why can’t I be like this all the time? This is not really the question I want to ask, or answer for that matter. It is a good day today. Yesterday was a good day. I am going to keep having good days, until I have a bad day. I will let myself have a bad day and deal with it as it comes. For right now, I am awake. My children have my full attention, I have been trying to get to know my youngest better for the last year, with no headway! He is so inside himself and shy, and he says random things that aren’t even true. I have no idea who this kid is! Maybe more one on one time….I don’t have a clue. I will just keep trying to get in!

Anyways! I hope you are still getting something from my blogs. I hope you either can relate, or can see how a loved one feels, or just makes you more empathetic to others who have a disorder like mine.

Cheers to good days!

Tilt A Whirl

9 Jan

Some days I think I have everything under control. I go to work, come home, do some laundry and dishes and get supper prepped. I then pick up the kids from school and start them on their chores and talk to them about their day. I feel like all is running smoothly. Then I have days like this.

Days like this happen more than the in control days. It seems like in control days happen rarely! I am constantly second guessing myself for everything, even when it comes to making supper. I am soooooooo over this shit, you have no idea! It feels like I am on a tilt a whirl ride. The constant motion, dizziness, lack of control, but then sometimes you have control on how fast you spin, but then you spin yourself too hard and end up feeling sick, then you just want the ride to end and get off, but you look over and see your kids or your friends having fun with what is going on and you don’t want to seem like a wuss, so you ride it out, pretending to have fun when you really want to have control and get off. ugh. Now I remember why I hate that ride! Now I know why life shakes me to the core!

Every day I think of how I am feeling, and every day I wonder if my feelings are reasonable or just something that I over process and end up making shit up in my head. Like, do I really have a headache? Or am I talking myself into it? Ha ha….I know it sounds really strange to you, for me to question a simple thing like a headache, but there is alot that goes with even having a headache…..my children are very loud while at home in their own environment and if I have a headache, I have to keep telling them to quiet down, or, I have to move to another room, which never works anyways because they follow wherever I am. So, now I have these feelings of being overreactive because I tell them to constantly keep it down. I am now, of course, a bad mother. My thoughts lead me into being a terrible person who just tells her kids to be quiet and can’t even take a moment to play with them. Yes, Yes, I know, my craziness runs deep! And I apologize to my husband all the time for being crazy!

At some point it has to stop though, right? It has to.

I want to lay in my bed. I want to binge watch netflix shows and colour in my colouring book and do sudoku puzzles. On the other hand, I want to organize the closet and sort out all of the craft supplies for my kids. I want to do crafts with them. I want to start making christmas gifts for next christmas. I want to go back to the gym. So, I end up on the computer looking up craft ideas to do with the kids and end up blogging. I refrain from the bed, even though my foot is throbbing and I could go for a nap! I don’t want to feel guilty for doing nothing. I watched movies pretty much all day with the kids yesterday. I made breakfast, lunch, supper and I did some laundry and dishes, but I really didn’t do much at all. I had a sinus headache, but still…..an awesome mom could have done more.

I sometimes hate to think what my husband really thinks. I work anywhere from 12-20 hours in a week, which is perfect for me right now…..being……um…….fragile? I guess that word works, but since owning a business and working for 50-80 hours per week for the last 10 years, I don’t want to work alot, I don’t want alot of responsibility. Anyways, how does he think? Does he think I am lazy and that I just fake my feelings and illnesses? Does he think I don’t do enough around the house? Or, are these just my anxieties and questions to myself? Do I project my feelings about myself onto others and in turn think that they think that way about me? Ha ha….hard to follow sentence? I hope you understand what I mean!

I want to visit with others, I want to see a little bit of who I used to be, galavanting all over and enjoying time with my friends and family. I want to. But I don’t. My brain is my enemy sometimes! My anxiety is my jail, and I don’t know when this sentence will be over. When I go to visit someone, the selfishness of my anxiety kicks in and I think only of how the other person is better than I. How, my friend, who has known me for years, might think that I am a sad excuse of what I used to be. How I am bigger and more rotund than I used to be, and that I am emotionally less stable than I used to be. I wonder the whole time, I wonder and I worry and when the visit is over, I am exhausted, relieved and still worried. I then worry whether I said anything stupid, or offensive, or if I was too loud or invasive. I feel like I cannot ever be myself. Like being myself is not good enough for anyone…..ever. I know, this sounds super extreme, but this is anxiety and depression in the most honest form I have to share.

For those of you who don’t have anxiety and depression, just think of a time when you were a little anxious or worried. Now, times that by ten, and include it in every thought you have for every day of your life. Now, if that doesn’t fuck up your thinking, I don’t know what will. Sometimes it is hard to see the truth in it’s truest form because all of the other shit in my brain is clouding my vision. This might be…ha ha….this is why I don’t really know who I am, it is why I don’t know how my emotions play out in front of others. I have tried to hide these feelings for years and I did, very successfully. It is impossible now. My children know what anxiety is. And this too, has me second guessing the true ability of my parenting. Should they know? Should I have told them? Is this going to mess them up when they are older or make them more sensitive to others? Is this going to cause an anxiety disorder in them? Do they already have anxiety? Is is my fault? ugh!

These feelings need to shut up! I often wonder how Joe Blow goes around without worrying about everything at every moment. I would like to feel that. I would like to just feel the cold or the hot without worrying about every little thing that could go wrong. Just to feel the sun beat down on my face and listen to the birds and feel the warmth, look over and see my kids playing and having fun, while I lay down and read a book, or do some gardening. (this is a summer dream of course!) I have days that I could do this, but I always end up thinking about things like, I am being lazy and should actually do something productive, or I should really get in there and actually play with my children instead of watching them. It’s a piped dream, I will have to yet again, try and fail, try and fail, and try again until I succeed at keeping a healthy body and mind. Things went to shit near Christmas time, but I need to pick up my saggy butt drawers and get on with it already. One baby step at a time I guess, but I will hit more bumps in the road every single day. I have no idea if there is such a thing as recovery for anxiety, but I wish there was.

To another day.

 

Aftershock

20 Nov

When something like an earthquake happens, it massively upsets the whole crust of the earth, shaking and quaking, shifting and grinding. There is inevitably an aftershock of such a rough event. Things have to settle and it causes a little more shaking and quaking in order to rest. I am comparing that to having a psychological blow like I had when remembering repressed memories. There is no rhyme or reason to these things, but the dust has to settle. I am still quaking. I am fuming to the brim with the uneasy feeling in my gut. I even had a dream last night that a random man came to me and started to beat me with a hammer. I am so enraged right now, that even in my dream, I wrestled for the hammer and beat him about the head and back with it. I could not physically hit him hard enough. I wanted death. This says a lot about the way I am feeling right now!

I am not right today. I don’t know if this hatred will ever leave me. This abuse, just happened. The memories that have been suppressed for 34 years have come back now, when I am 39 years old, I am having memories of being molested as a toddler. Yes, a toddler, a little baby girl. I am feeling all of the feelings I felt then. Only now, it is worse. Now, I think as a mother, with all the pain of the child locked up inside. It is an absolute terrible feeling to feel. Physical pain withstanding, the mental anquish that I am facing right now is debilitating. It has knocked me down. Forget living healthy, forget the money problems, forget it all. There is the selfish feelings of despair, anguish, mourning. I am mourning. Mourning for my memories that have been tarnished. Mourning for the self that I have never been able to meet because he destroyed me before I had the chance to live for me, to be who I was meant to be.

I have now talked to his ex wife and his mother. I love his mother, she partially raised me, and I know that I have not really faced her or talked to her while having so much rage directed toward her son. I thought I would spare her, but I can’t. She should be able to know how I am feeling. She should have an idea of the possibility of more victims, more of his prey that are out there thinking that they are the only ones. Wounds heal, but the scars last forever. I have a giant gaping wound right now, and there is no healing for me as we speak. I must do this, blog. I must get it out there. This is my healing process. But, I got off track. I sent his mother a message letting her know that I feel hatred towards her son, this is why I cannot face her and talk to her since the memories have reared their ugly heads. Well, I can tell you, I have no idea how to respond to what she is telling me. She wants me to find God, to have faith and let my anger go. She is not saying anything about how bad she feels about what her son did. She is just addressing me and telling me to let my pain go. I am so freaking sorry, but I NEED to feel this pain. This is the death of my childhood. This is the murder of my innocence and it was taken, never to get it back. This was the beginning of the terrible path that I would go on, trying to torture myself for the pain that was mine, but that I did not cause. I don’t see him with any apologies, I see him, far away from here, living life high on the hog, with a girlfriend who knows nothing of this. I wonder how high he would be sitting if she were to find out. I wonder how confident in himself he would feel if he were on the sexual assault list, if he were to have to announce to his neighbours that he was a convicted child molester. Where is Karma now? I am sorry, but I want him to feel the pain I feel. I want him to go down the road I have been on. The self hatred I have gone through for the last 34 years. The masking of emotions with food. The pain, pain, pain, pain, pain.

Talking with his mother, left me in even more pain. Just talking about God and being free from the pain, and full of peace. I don’t buy it. I don’t get it. I cannot see it like that. It is bad to say, but I just see it as talking in circles and not making a definite statement about anything. It does not address my situation, it goes right to her and what she sees. It seems like I am not being heard by her. I love her, but I cannot talk to her right now. I will not be able to connect with her until I am adjusted. It is just a disappointment to learn that there is no talk about justice, about the way he preyed on me and the others who have come forward. Me and two others, I am pretty sure, there will be more.

I am broken. I have no more strength to keep talking to her about this. I am not being heard. I am being talked at. I am being placated. Like being patted on the head and told to shuffle off now.

I know she must not mean to come off this way, but this is how it feels. I know I must be lucky to be able to talk to my abusers mother, and family, but it is really hard. These are people that I love and looked up to all my life. This is people who told me they loved me and I believed it.

I want him to pay. I want to feel peace, but right now, I think all I will feel tomorrow, is a hangover. Don’t think that I won’t self medicate! I’m going to eat crap and drink a bottle of wine. I am going to hug and kiss my kids super hard and tell them like I have before, to not let anyone touch them, Hands off or tell an adult. I am a great mother, and I am not going to be wearing rose coloured glasses. I am going to be vigilant and only let them around trusted people. I know we cant be with our kids 24-7, but I can damned well try.

This may have made me stronger, but right now, I feel weak, sick and I want it to go away. My reality is bent and I have no way to straighten it right now. Like, a Salvatore Dali painting, all melty and weird, things aren’t as they should be. Ugh, it’s so weird right now. This is my aftershock. My second shake to settle things down. The hard look at the reality of everything before I can comprehend it is actually happening, and that it actually happened. Things were so much worse than my first memories. I am sure there are more to come. But for now, I wont will them to see the light of my eyes, I will just let what I do remember soak in and find a place in the person I am right now.

I will never apologize for the way that I feel. I am raw, you read what I write, it is exactly how I feel at any given moment. I don’t speak any truer words than the ones I share with you. Whether or not people I know agree with me or not, it is not my focus. I am sorry that you find my words and ideas offensive, or inappropriate, but nowadays, it is honesty that needs to be present. I will not glaze over anything. I will only be true to me. With that being said, nobody has come to me with mean words, but I just wanted everyone to know.

 

 

Hatred; The true struggle

19 Nov

I thought I had it good! I closed the business and thought, hey, I am going to be a stay at home mom. I am going to organize the house, make the kids breakfast every day, do all the housework, make all the dinners and take the kids everywhere they need to go. Well….its not that easy at all first of all, second, I had to really look into how our finances are! Not a good sitchyaysion! Behind payments on some things have to be made, outrageous utility bills needed to be payed, and I don’t have an income. Great. I can tell you that this Christmas is going to be pretty damn slim. So, I keep on, like I have to. I make out a budget for us and go to get a job. The first place I went, I went in without a resume to see just by chance that they needed someone. They hired me on the spot, and I was to go in the next day for an orientation. Well, looking through the pages the manager gave me, I saw that the busy time is on Saturday and Sundays. I had to do some figures, and I knew that this wouldn’t be worth it. I would start at minimum wage, which is something like $11.45 per hour and I would need child care for every shift she put me on Saturday and Sunday. Child care is $10 or more per hour for 2 children. I am damned if I am going to go to work for $1.45 per hour. Just ridiculous.

So, that was a bust. I start from before and really think about staying home. Then I start writing my life story. Not fun because of the memories I have to endure and relive. I got to the part about my early days at the babysitters. This is tough. It’s rough and hard to put down every single word. I have to phrase it like I am writing a story, not like I am writing for you. I have to word it differently, I can’t just write what is in my head at that particular moment. I should try, come to think of it. But, anyway, while I was writing about my early years at Janie’s, more memories came to me. The ones that have been repressed for ummmm…. say, 34 years. Wow….they hit me hard. Pardon my French, but it really fucking sucks. The feelings I have, I don’t even know how to manage them. I felt my face getting hotter, I know I was flushed. Alone, with a typewriter and paper, and I was blushing. I remembered some really nasty shit that he did and the way he hid it just makes my skin crawl. Ugh…. I feel nauseous. He would prey on me when I was playing in the basement, or watching tv in the basement. He could hear if someone was coming. Ugh, I want to vomit. What a piece of shit. I am riddled with rage, embarrassment, guilt and shame already, but now I have an unwavering feeling of utter hatred and disgust. I want to protect that little girl. I want to beat the shit out of the asshole who tried this with her before he got the chance. Who the hell did he think he was? Taking someone’s innocence like that, making  her into someone completely different without a second thought. And then I think, didn’t anyone see? Didn’t anyone notice something? Anything at all? Did my behaviour change? I know that I must have followed Janie around more after that. I remember not wanting to go downstairs when Mark was home. I remember, when he came home, I ran upstairs. Oh man, I just remembered some other things. Him, coaxing me down the stairs, and Janie had no idea. She would tell Mark to keep an eye on me when she was upstairs. Oh God. Here it is folks, a mental cap has been opened. I thought it was bad when I first remembered some of the memories….this. is. much. much. much. worse. These memories are lethal. I am so queasy right now. I keep thinking that the memories have to end somewhere, but they just keep going. I never ever ever wanted to be alone with him. A little girl, innocently watching Sesame Street and playing with her little chocolate baby doll (as Janie called it) and then, in looms the darkness, the face of evil plastered with an endearing face and a fake smile. The used car salesman who sells nothing but crap. Trust me. Come sit with me. Here, give me your hand….ugh…..its much much worse than that, but I will spare you.

I know he was a victim, I learned that earlier this year. It might seem bad of me, but I do not care one iota. I was a victim too. I didn’t do that shit to anybody. It really screwed with my head. I was petrified when I had my first baby. I thought, oh man, I hope I never do that, I won’t do that. I was so scared of myself, it was terrible. I never ever have had thoughts of that before. I was scared to bathe my son. I didn’t want to touch him in case it wasn’t right, or appropriate. I know, I am just a loving mother who wants the best for my kids and to love them, I shouldn’t be a first time mother and have these fears. I blame this all on Mark. He did this to me. I was scared. I know who I am and I know I would never ever touch anyone like that. I knew who I was then too…..but it scared the shit out of me that history would repeat itself, maybe because I have watched enough episodes of SVU to know that most molesters are what they are because it was done to them.

I hate him. My day went to shit because of him. I want him gone, out of my life. Out of my memories. He ruined perfectly good memories of me with his mother. I love her. She was a wonderful care giver, and he ruined everything. He made me scared when I was little, he made me scared of loving anyone, really, and opening myself to my husband. He made me scared of real love and intimacy. He made me scared to touch my baby, even to change his diaper and bathe him. He scared me when I had to talk to him daily while his mother was in the hospital, I didn’t want to talk to him. He is a snake in the grass. He has two faces. He hides his true self. He couldn’t even admit to me that he did anything wrong. He has never told me sorry for what he has done. And I doubt he ever will. He does not make me scared anymore, but I am scared of myself and all of the hateful feelings I have towards him and his oily self. I don’t want to hate him because I love his mother.

I love her and I don’t want her hurt. But, I hate him so much. I know she loves him and always will. I know she will always protect him, and I just can’t seem to face that.

Whew, now all of that, that is my true struggle. Day to day life sucks when you are broke, but it sucks so much harder when dealing with these freaking memories, and when storing all of this hatred.

 

Half Cracked Nut

1 Nov

nutIt has been 8 days since I closed my business. I might or might not be slowly going insane! Ha! I was all torn about my emotions at first, and now…..I am torn about my emotions. But the emotions are a little different now. I know that I will not own a business again, and I will not work full time at something unless I find something that I am super passionate about and still feel that I have enough time to be with my family and run a normal household, like with laundry being done and put away and meals prepped and all the everyday things I can do without stabbing myself in the eye with a fork (on purpose). I hated those days where I worked so much and struggled so hard at getting things done at home that I felt far more inferior than all of the other mothers out there. Never again.

Right now I am in a love/ hate relationship with my mind. Gah! I hate when I think negative thoughts and worry so much that I start chewing the inside of my mouth and doing other anxious ticks, like picking at my head or chewing nails, anything to deal with the worry. I worry that I won’t sell either the bakery as a whole, or for the pieces. I worry that I won’t be able to do anything because I don’t have any money. I worry that I will have to use the baby bonus for the payroll taxes that I owe. Boo….such downer thoughts, but rational I think. I have had about 7 people inquire about buying the business, lots of questions, but in the end, nothing. I know it has only been less than a month that I put on facebook that I wanted to sell, but it has been on Kijiji for the past 4 months already. And! I think someone stole my damn planter boxes from outside my bakery! Like….what? They were brown and pink! Hide those!! How rude! Ugh….things like this….just get to me. I offer myself to work for whoever wants to buy it. I will train people for Pete’s sake! Then I think….what have I done? Why did I open a bakery in the first place?why Not everyone’s hobby ends up as a business, but I loved doing it so much! After a while it became work, with the business stuff, like taxes, money, staff, suppliers, etc. All of that made going to work not as fun. I will bake all day, every day if I don’t have to do any of the bookwork and emails and dealing with money. I will take a paycheck thank you very much.

lovehateSo, I love/hate right now. I love/hate being off work. I love/hate being at home with no money, because if I don’t have it, I don’t spend it. I love/hate cleaning the house constantly. I feel like a half cracked nut, not knowing which way to chose. I know, I should probably be looking for work, and I have a couple of places in mind, but I was really hoping that I could stay off work until the new year and enjoy being home with the kids and taking care of the house for at least two months. Something I haven’t done since I was on mat leave with Morley, which was almost 10 years ago.

My mind has no clue what is going to happen from day to day, and my body just follows the brain! The only thing that I do know right now for sure, is to stay on track with the gym. That is another thing that makes me feel super unstable. I went to a Halloween party, and I drank, and I had some snacks. Nothing compared to what I used to do. At one point I remember looking at a bowl of chips or cheesies and thinking…”ew”, my cousin and her daughter and hubby came over, we had some drinks, there is a big no no for losing weight. Then, last night, I had two candies from the kids stash. I know that isn’t too bad, but bad enough. And, now I don’t know if I am just feeling guilty for living, or punishing myself for something really bad that I did to prevent me from meeting my goal.pain It’s a freakshow in this melon! Gah! I ask myself why? Why did I eat that candy? Is it because I find myself sub human and not good enough to be healthy and live longer? Is it because I am a creature of habit and some habits are hard to break? Is it because I am weak? Is it because I haven’t truly faced everything that I need to in my past? Am I facing it the wrong way and not really accepting it and not really being truthful with myself? Why? Huh? Gawd, I feel so stupid sometimes. Really Amy? You better work hard at the gym tomorrow!

So, I did, I went today and worked so hard. In fact, I came right home to write this! I am still in my sweaty clothes, and my skin is just begging me for a shower! I am going to figure this shit out one way or another. I am going to dive deep. I am going to cry. I am going to yell, and I am going to write. I will find the answer, or answers. Who’s problem? Mine! Who needs to find a solution? Me! Ugh…..covers are looking good! NO!!!! Keep out of that bed! Get that pillow out of your hands. No lying down anymore. Sometimes I am a real bitch! Ha Ha!!!

Anyways, if you have any ideas on any solutions to any problems that I can’t see the answers to, please feel free to comment on this blog. I am so ready for some input people! I struggle with my inner self and I really just wonder and worry about things all day long, unless I am at the gym, or I am cleaning. And no, I will not workout and clean 24/7 that is out of the question.

You know what’s funny? I thought that being unemployed for a bit could make me focus on myself and my family more. And the family thing is true, but I have put myself by the wayside yet again! I now go the the gym, but I really need to do some inside work as well. Damn, now I have homework. Any idea where to start?ideas

Inside the MuMu

20 Oct

So, you ask….what’s it like to be fat? Because I am sure all of you with a “normal” body askmumu this every single day. Ha Ha!!! But, nobody wants to be there. Who has ever said in their head, oh man! I would love to be the fat friend! The jovial one! Ha!

Well, before I become who I have wanted to be for years, I would like to let you into the mumu as it were. Let you see it from an inside source!

First of all, I feel like a slim and hot woman stuck inside of a fat body. I would LOVE to wear so many different types of clothing. I yearn for awesome looking clothes, I pine for normal clothes shopping….but alas, I have to shop at the big girl stores like Pennington’s and Maurice’s carries some pretty nice things as well. I am not knocking these stores, but try to shop anywhere with my normal sized friends and get clothes….not fun in the least. Just because I am big does not mean that I want to wear crap clothes all the time. Big girl clothes are so expensive too! You can get cheap stuff at WalM…..but really, I am not 60 years old and want to wear slacks and shirts with a generic print on them. Not cool. If I go to the good stores like the ones I listed above, I have to spend at least $100 to get a decent outfit. I look at the stores in the mall with tags like $10 for a shirt…..I wish!

Another aspect is the problem of seating. Everywhere I go in public, or other people’s homes, I have to scan the seating and check out where I can sit. I don’t want to sit in a chair with arms,chair it might be too tight and then all of my hip and leg fat would seep out the side of the chair…this is not pretty and it doesn’t feel so hot either. It makes a person embarrassed. I think twice before sitting in regular plastic deck chairs, these are not stable for someone of hefty sizes. I look for a big, sturdy chair, couch or I just stand and lean. Imagine for a second, when making plans with people to go out and having to think about how you will fit in anywhere, everywhere you go.

Your feet. Yes, your feet. Every woman I know does not like to have gnarly looking feet and toenails. So, we take care of them, we cut the nails and paint them and even put on toe rings. This is fine for anyone but a plus sized woman. Did you know, that your stomach gets in the way when you bend over? You can only bend over as far as your stupid yucky belly fat will let you go. It does not spread around to your sides so you can reach your toes. It stays stationary in front. So, it makes it hard to sit down and paint your toes. It is even hard to put on your socks like a normal person.fat-belly I either have to prop my leg up sideways on the bed or couch and put my socks on, or I sit and pull up my leg… this is fun! Doesn’t it sound great?

Eating. Eating in front of anyone but your family members is hell….sometimes. I go through so much anxiety when eating with people. I think things like I wonder if they are disgusted by my food choice, do I look disgusting when I eat? Do they think I am full of shit when I say that I can’t finish my meal and I am full? Social anxiety comes with being me…the plus sized version. I hardly go anywhere. I really haven’t been out all that much in the last year. I think I can maybe count two times that I went out with friends.

Rings. I love my wedding rings, I love all of my rings. I just can’t wear them. I haven’t been able to wear them since last Christmas. So, I am married and can’t wear my wedding band. This bums me out.

Cars and seatbelts. That is self explanatory.

I am not lazy. Being fat does notmean being lazy. I am not going to lie, there were times before I started exercising that I was exhausted. I really didn’t want to delve into housework and start something that I didn’t want to finish. I would get tired halfway through and want to quit. That could have been the depression too though. But I work. I used to work 70 hour weeks. Up half the night doing work for the bakery and then spending half the morning cleaning and doing laundry, and spending as much time as I could with my kids. I am not nor ever have been or ever will be lazy.

No, I am not really happy all the time. I played the part of the care free happy go lucky and loud sometimes obnoxious friend/family member. I tried to be the happy one, I didn’t want to let anyone know me I guess. I tried to have louder opinions in order to distract from my physical appearance. Using these things as a mask. So, when talking to a thin friend, sure, I was listening to them, but I was also assessing them, being jealous of their size and wonder if they ever felt out of place. Not all the time, but sometimes. I appreciate a good body, I look at bodies, because I don’t want to look at my own. I covet people’s body parts, like her butt and those legs and so on. I think about how comfortable their clothes must be on their bodies. To wear jeans and not have to cover everything up except my legs. I try to hide everything as much as I can.

Functions and celebrations. Everyone wants to look good when going to a celebration, but I can never look as good as I would like. I have to go buy an outfit that I don’t really love because that is all the store has and then I have to try to look my best. I get dressed, look in the mirror and I am satisfied that I look pretty good. When I get there, I compare myself to everyone. I don’t look so good now. This is where the self doubt and self loathing starts to come into play and  I spend the rest of the time at the event hoping not to walk in front of too many people, so they won’t really notice me too much. Not judge me. Not laugh at me. Yes, yes. I know, it is terrible and nobody should ever feel like this so much. But there is the reality. There is more to explain. There is so much more.

Grocery shopping. End of sentence.

The gym. Yes, yes, the gym. And I bet that a lot more people feel this than just oversized me. I feel so terrible walking in there and seeing the fit people and feeling inadequate. I know, this is where I should be.gym I should be exercising to get fit and be healthy. But there are some real assholes out there who make people like me feel like a big bag of shit just for walking in there. They judge and look, more like gawk and snicker and sneer. Really??? I would love to tell them where to go and just how to get there. But I will never stoop to that level. It still feels like crap though. Knowing that the one place that I can go to better myself and take control of my life is also the place with ridicule. Insert anxiety spike here.

Shoes. Ugh. Wide shoes. Shoe size goes up when you get fat…did you know that? I have to wear mens running shoes. Sorry, but they are ugly as sin. I want hot pink or bright blue or even purple runners. Not black and dark blue with red….ew.

Summer…..Gawd……sweaty sticky summer. I only wear skirts or capris. I never want tobig-bikini see my legs. The thighs rub together, jiggly yucky looking things. I would never have enough courage to wear a bathing suit on the beach in front of anyone except my husband and kids. I even went to a beach this year that I found hidden where nobody else was. Nobody saw me and I could joyfully swim with my children. Yes, big people beat themselves up on a regular basis. I do, and I am sure a high percentage of us do as well. Even thin people do it. Just imagine, you, thin person, who beats themselves up for not being as muscular or as fit or that you have a little ponch, imagine beating yourself up 100 times worse, ten times as much.

Its hard on the brain, the heart, the legs…etc. It’s hard to be this way. No body chooses to be fat. People choose to deal with personal things in all sorts of ways, and eating is one of them. It is kind of like an addiction. Some people use drugs, others use food. People should think of it like this more often. If they did, there might be some more help for people who don’t know how to deal with pain. Or even recognize it.

So, next time you see the big neighbour lady who is big, or you see your friend that is overweight, prop them up. Lift their spirits on their self image. They need some form of help, EVERYONE does. But our kind of pain, you can see.

And all of those who are big and do not agree with everything that I have said, that is okay. This is only my view on being a large person. I only referred to thinner people as normal to get my point across. I know that the word normal is offensive to some, but it was all in the measurement of which I was speaking.

No offence was intended during the making of this blog entry, just one woman’s opinion.

No fat people were harmed in the typing of this blog. he he