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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.

 

Keepin’ It Real

1 Jan

Last night was okay. I stayed at home with the kiddos and the hubby. It was actually pretty damned hard to stay awake! Yes, my life is full of excitement and wonder! Ha Ha!! The kids played some video games, we played a board game and watched some television! The kids were able to drink some orange pop, which is pretty exciting since they hardly ever get to drink soda, ever.

Today is a pretty slow paced day. I got up enough ambition to do the dishes and I might do a load of laundry later, but that is the extent of my physical exertion today. I see on the web, of people who are raring to go and do some things with their kids and leave the house…..well…..that takes getting dressed and a maximum level of effort! I might feel like a downer or a stinky bad mom, but my kids get to clean their room today! And, when they get sent to clean their room, they clean for 5 minutes and spend the next 2 hours playing peacefully together (on a good day). And, it seems like today is a good day! Lucky me!when-you-need-a-wee-but-got-wet-nails-4b98d I painted my nails and got them to dry without any smudges or wrinkles or any big mistakes because I chose to lay down and have a cat nap! Ha Ha! My nails are perfect!  Usually I cant take the ten minutes it takes for the polish to dry because I have to be screwing around with things all the time. My hands are constantly busy. No wonder I have carpal tunnel! I colour, crochet, knit, write, paint…..whatever I can to keep my hands busy at night when Im chillin’ watching tv.

I don’t know about you, but it is hard to just sit still. Lately I have been trying to stay off my feet because I have a really painful thing called plantar fasciitis, and it feels like there is a spike inside my heel when I walk. So, I tend to sit as much as possible, or stand in one spot on one foot when I do things like the dishes! I sound like so much fun don’t I?? Ha Ha!

I was talking to my husband the other day about conflict, and my lack of tolerance for it. I have some idea, but on the other hand I have no clue why it bothers me so much. I have a very quiet life. I love it like that. I know that I can have my relaxing down time when I come home. If I feel terrible, I just have to tell my hubby and kids, and usually they are pretty thoughtful of me at these times. I know that they will be teenagers in the blink of an eye and that things will change rapidly when it happens, but for now, I will revel in what I have.

loveMy conflicts lately have been in my head. I am fighting with myself constantly about whether my “friends” and family actually like me or love me. I think about how we never have any company come to visit. Or how nobody calls just to see how I am doing. I seriously have two people who keep in contact with me on a regular basis. They are the closest people to me, whom I see way less than I should. I know these two people love me and are there for me, as I am for them. Both of these people are in my family and love me unconditionally, like family should. I feel the same for them. But as for people around me, I have nobody but my husband. I have friends who know me, whom I can share things with, but none of them come to see me to see how I am doing. None of them just drop me a text to say hey hows it going. It hurts me. When they need a favour, I am a go-to person. And I know people have busy lives, I know everyone has their issues to deal with, but I hate always being the bottom rung. The first one they go to, or need to get up higher, and once they hit their height, the first rung they needed is forgotten. I know alot of these feelings could be my disorder, could be me being too sensitive, but to me, these feelings are real and painful. I usually keep these feelings inside without sharing them because my family tends to call them “poor me moments” or a “pity party”. This is just an insensitive way of realizing someone actually has anxiety and/or depression. My whole family is riddled with it, and the majority of my aunts and uncles have had these moments or little parties. I personally hate the terms they use, it’s offensive, but who can call them out on it? No one has and no one will. I will bitch about it, but I don’t really want to cause a war in the family. Too many of those have happened in the last year because of me being honest already! Ha Ha!

Wow, it has been a real shit show! It might actually be better that I have lost contact with some of them. I mean, it really is hard to keep track of everyone nowadays anyhow….I did the math not too long ago, and just with my aunts, uncles, cousins and their kids, there is about 79 of us all together. At one point I could remember my aunt, uncles and cousins birthdays. Not anymore! Ha Ha!

Anyways, what I was trying to get at in the first place, is that seeing what everyone else is doing in their life on a regular basis can be bad for your brain! I see all sorts of love and excitement and cheers and hugs and accomplishments on a certain social media site, and it is starting to cause me heart ache, because I am not that mother, or father, or aunt. I don’t take my kids on all sorts of outings and events. I don’t belong to any groups or I don’t have a 100% spotless house at all times….who am I kidding….at any time! Ha Ha! I love my kids, but I don’t do sports. I personally cannot afford sports for them either. I have them in swimming lessons and they will be going back to piano lessons when we are financially sound enough…..but seriously…..if your life is not all pudding cups and lollipops, stop portraying it like that! We all have bad days. We have all yelled a time or two or more at our children. We are not always smiles, or appreciative of the things we have, or positive. It is okay world. It is okay to have a bad freaking time of things. If you do, I encourage you to share.share Share…..when you do, you give others the opportunity to help and be there for you. You give others the chance to see that their lives aren’t so different. You can make it okay for others. If you struggle, don’t do it on your own. If you read this posting of mine on facebook, you can see in the comments how what I say can sometimes help others. My aunt, sweet, dear Aunt Sue, always comments on my postings, she knows how things feel, and she lets me know that she is there, listening and reading every word I throw out, there is support.

I want to keep things as real as possible, and as I sit here typing my entry for the day, I am at my desk in my bedroom with jogging pants, fuzzy socks and a nightgown on. I have perfect nails! But my room is a mess…..I hate putting clothes away….despise it…and I am seeing it out of the corner of my eye. I know I have to do it….but I don’t want to. I have had to yell at my kids a couple of times, they have been hounding me to play their game system for the last 20 minutes. I say no, they have a tantrum. But, alas, my words are still being written!

Keep it real people. Life is hard, it is a struggle, it can drain you….but you do it, you fight for it, you love people, loving people means opening yourself up and sometimes getting hurt, but we do it all again, and again, and again!

Reality and honesty is my truth, it is my everyday. It is my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way!

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

What’s In There?

19 Oct

I am going to give you a look at what happens to a person (me) when they become fat. I wasn’t born this way. I was a mere 7 lbs when I was born. I was a cute blonde haired thin little girl. I only started on my weight gain journey after I had been molested. I think at 5 years old I started getting bigger. I can see it in the photos of myself when I was younger.

Alot of things have happened to me that I haven’t even scraped the surface in telling you. My biological father died 9 days before my first birthday, the pain that my mother feels over this keeps her from divulging any information about him in the first 20 years of my life.I  do not know his family.They don’t even know I exist.To this day, I have not seen his grave. Things happen in your mind when you feel incomplete, everyone who has been adopted can relate to this I think. Then I was molested between the ages of 3-5. My mother was in an accident which, at 5 years old I didn’t understand, except that she was hurt and my grandparents had to come and live with me for a while to take care of me. This caused some abandonment issues for me and within the first two weeks of her being gone, I had already peed my pants at school. This, is something that I do not blame her for. Ever. It is just something that happened in life, that had a ripple effect. During this whole time and it lasted about 10 years that I know of, I watched on as my cousin beat his sisters. He punched them in the face and gave them bloody lips and noses and black eyes. Their father and mother were abusive to each other as well. I remember going with my mother to pick up my cousins because my uncle was drunk and beating on my cousin because he thought she was her mother. There was alcoholism in this family too….not cool. I see my son get upset at seeing anyone being hurt or hearing his dad yell at something and he is in tears. Man, I can’t begin to think about the tough skin that I had to have already to witness all of this abuse.  About one year later, my grandmother, who I had grown very close to, had a heart attack. Everyone in my family was effected by this, not just me. I was very young though, and had gone through ALOT already. But wait, more is to come. So, after grandma’s heart attack or around the same time, my mom got a boyfriend who was a bit mean to me. I remember him hurting my face really bad, I hadnt washed it good enough and he took me into the washroom and wiped my face raw. It hurt and I was all red after that. Well, their relationship didnt last, and after he left, he saw me walking home from school and tried to get me to go with him, telling me that my mom told him to pick me up. I ran of course and didn’t go with him. I didn’t tell anyone ever about anything that happened or anything that I felt. Ever. It’s been locked up tight since this year. After that, when I was 8-9 I was in a very bad car accident which could have taken my life if the doctors hadn’t found my internal injuries. I was in the car with my two cousins and two friends. I can still produce the image of my cousin with her face in the dashboard and my  other cousin laying on top of her with her face in the windshield. It was not a good thing to see at the age of 9. I have not returned to the site of the accident since. Because of that, I had to learn how to clean my own wound by putting a tube into two holes in my stomach and pumping water into it and then putting a bandage back on. I cannot imagine my son having to do that. Torture. After that, my grandfather had a stroke and they had to move to town, my mother and I took on the taking care of my grandparents. When I was 10, I had to spend some nights at my babysitters again, and in that time, my molester started to visit me again at night. He came to me three times to prey on me. I told nobody. I said nothing, I pushed the feelings down and away. I was teased in high school for being fat. One nasty person would yell down the hallway at me and ask me “How much do you weigh this week Amy? 600 pounds?” and the bunch of people he was with would laugh and laugh at me. I felt nothing but hatred for him and I wanted to cry, but I kept walking past him like he said nothing. Another thing to push down and not feel. The teasing started with another person when I was as little as kindergarten. A boy would make fun of me and call me Miss Piggy every single day. School was torture. But I loved learning. After this, I had such a bad self esteem, I was worthless. I was defeated and beaten down. When I was 17 I got my first boyfriend. Which I lost everything to. I didn’t realize that he was a horrible person. I was getting attention and that is all that mattered. This person, raped me. My first time having sex, he raped me. I told him to stop, and he told me that I liked it. I didn’t know at the time I was raped. I do now. Sad. After that I lost about 125 pounds and gained some confidence. But not enough. This was the path for me, trusting everyone and getting beaten down every time. A whole list of men who mistreated me and abused me and never truly loved me like they say they did. Everything changed when I met Gord. But that is another story.

So, that is my story. Not in depth, there is alot of pain and alot of sorrow and sadness in my story, but this is where it changes. It’s like a switch went off in my head. I have spent the last 39 years being a victim, as someone who was full of shame and blame and self loathing. The next half of my life, I will be a survivor. I will be proud of all I have endured and overcome. I will no longer feel the sorrow and shame of that little girl, that teenager, that young adult. I will feel the pride of the woman that I am, that I have become and the woman who I have fought to see, and to be. I am finished with feeding my emotions. Now….I AM IN CHARGE!!! I am going to use my emotions to fuel my strength. I can see the future me, she is strong, full of life, healthy, happy and I can’t wait to meet her!