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Not Another Post!

15 Mar

It is true, I post alot and I post things that I think in everyday life. I share my innermost thoughts and share some very sensitive things that not everyone wants to read. I know how some of the things that I say must feel to others, some roll their eyes and think that I am sharing way too much and care not to read about my life, while others (I have heard) think that it is inspiring and brave to share my story.

Now, Anxiety plays a roll in my life DAILY, while depression comes along every once in a while. But the true fact of the matter is that I cannot get out of my own head. Every day I refer to my abuse as a child, every day I wonder who I would have been without it happening to me. Every day I worry about the same thing happening to my children, which causes panic in me. I worry the most about this. I have little “worst case scenarios” that play in my head every time they go play outside. I think of someone preying on them, taking them and abusing them and worse. I shudder every time and it takes everything that I have in my to not call them back inside where I have constant control of the environment.

Today while I was preparing supper, I was thinking of how they will turn out when they are grown, how they will look, what kind of men they will be when they are older. I daydream things like that while I am alone. I predict what they will look like and what career they will strive for. Then, Mr. Anxiety shows up and I start wondering how I am going to cope letting them go….letting them move out of the house and be their own people. Having their own homes and going off to university, and their safety. This is what I worry about the most. Who is going to be there to keep them safe? Car accidents, freak things happen, and even murders. What the hell would I do then? I don’t know if I could bear it. I know, it turns selfish, it sounds selfish as I read what I write, but  I cannot help it…..this is the monster called Anxiety. This is catastrophic thoughts. This is a disorder. I cannot switch it off.

I am trying. I am really trying. I meditate and I am looking in to learning Reiki. I want to become a Reiki master. It would fit well with my husbands Holistic Nutrition and I dream that we can have our own little slice of “heaven” and do things the Holistic way and be able to sustain our finances while doing it. Ah, to dream!

But,I do think it’s  getting better, I seem to have  more of a grip on reality, which is what it feels like I have a lack of when having an anxiety attack.

Yes, it is yet again, another post about anxiety, about my struggle…..but it is real. It never leaves me.

I was trying to explain to my husband how it feels every day to be in my head. What I think of and how I cope. I told him this ” the first blowjob I ever gave was when I was 3 years old”. That is a hard pill to swallow. That makes you imagine it, to see it and fills you with so many emotions. Yes, it is true. I remember what it looked like and I remember how I felt and the hesitation and ultimately the trust that I put into that one person who I was raised like a sister to. It fills me with all sorts of emotions, and to let someone know how it feels is impossible unless they have been through it, but this is the only way that I could  verbalize the actual brutality of what was done to me. Plus, I think that it is a way to start getting prepared to tell my story to someone else who could really help me. Yes, Mark made me do  all sorts of things and he touched me where he shouldn’t have. The one good thing that I can say is that he did not mess with my virginity. He abused me from the time I was 2 or 3 until I was 5, and then again when I was 10. Only to have my first real sexual experience end up in rape, that was another story with another abuser.

Yes, anxiety is in my life forever. Yes, I will talk about it again. No, I will not shut up. It is real. Yes, it is REAL. I am jumpy, I scare easily and I feel like I am always scared. I try everyday to be better. I suffer everyday. I see the depths of my own hell as no one else can see.

I have taken you on a little voyage of my reality. The glasses are far from rose coloured. I feel better when I know I am just listened to. I feel justified in my fears and weirdness and quirks when people know my story. They see the “why”, not just me as I am now, as the result of the past, the pain. It’s a hard story to tell, but I know it must be hard to read as well. People are either disgusted and don’t want to read it, or are sympathetic and want to know my story or they are disaster whores, the ones who love to see the gore, who dive right into other people’s pain to feel better about their life.

I am okay with it all. As they say, everyone has a story, this is yet another post about it, but it is my Story. My Life as it is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cons and Cons

9 Mar

Lately I have been inspired to get out of my everyday routine, to do things that I don’t normally do on a day to day basis. I posted it on facebook to see if my friends had any ideas that I wouldn’t think of. I got a few responses for me to volunteer. I thought, that is perfect! Now that I work part time and I am more relaxed, what a great way to give back, to fulfill my everlasting need to help anybody (animals too) in need. This inspired me to get apolice request from my children’s  school to be a volunteer. I had to get the request form and go to the police station to fill out the proper paper work and pay the $11 to get the police check done. Well, while I was there, the thought popped into my brain to make a statement to the police about being molested when I was young.

This idea brings forth all sorts of feelings. I want to do it, I want it on the record that he is a pedophile, I want it to be hard for him to live anywhere and to maintain a job with dignity. I have that hatred still….but I also want to do it because the other victims of his senseless acts can have a voice. I know of two and possibly three others who have been harmed by him. With this being said, it would knock open a huge door that has about a dozen different doors behind it. My caregiver who is the molestors mother, was a foster parent. I don’t even want to think about how many other children he has harmed and of those, who had been previously harmed and then subjected to more harm? Oh, the pain just keeps going.

1366505-68386-img-648-a542d8629a-1484648097I think about the lengthy statement I will have to give and subject myself to the harm all over again. To relive it, to tell the whole story. The whole story…. the unrevised version, the clear memories which put me into a deep state of depression for months on end. I have to tell that to someone, who will write it down and ask questions. It makes me feel queasy just thinking about the feeling of telling it and reliving it. Then I think about my family. I don’t know how these things go, so, would there be a court hearing? Would I have to publicly testify in front of him? Would his mother be there supporting him and how would I face her? Which leads me to more questions than I ever thought of.

Did she know? Did she really know in the deep recesses of her brain and just brush it off like she was being paranoid? How could this happen, to not only me, mind you….but to others without anyone knowing about anything?

I remember a time when I was about 10 or 11 and he came to me at night, three times in a row. The first time I told his mother, she cried and said it was her fault and that if I told that I might not be able to go back into her care. I was young, I loved her like a second mother and I couldn’t bear not going back to her…..so I said nothing. Now that I think of it, I don’t think she spoke of it either. I can’t recall, but if something was said, do you think that I would be let back into the house with HIM? NO! At this point, he was around 20 or so and was dealing with demons of his own and abusing drugs and alcohol and creating demons in children, like me.

I don’t want to blame her. And I didn’t mean it to be portrayed as so, but these are the honest questions that are coming to me while I debate with myself about going official with everything. I know this is a heavy burden to bear and I get it. Sometimes the effects that it will have on other people’s lives is just too much. By him doing that to me and others, and if I go to the police about it, could rip apart so many lives because I said something. I know in the first place it was him that has caused all of this, but really, the weight is on my right now. I have two other people who are ready and willing to stand up if I chose to do it. They have given me all of their information which I can pass on in  order for him to be charged even further. I have this option.

If I don’t do it, am I weak? Am I going to be the one who doesn’t stand up and then others like me will feel like they shouldn’t either? Do I hold that responsibility? Is that on me? Am I a source of strength for others? If I don’t go through with this, am I then a source of weakness? Look at Amy, she was weak and didn’t stand up and say it, she didn’t have the intestinal fortitude to believe in herself and the justice system, she didn’t stand up for all of the others who either have been or could be harmed by him again.

I know that opening my mouth to the officials can made drastic changes in a lot of lives other than my own. Alot of pain will be brought to the surface, alot of anger and relationships will be shredded. With my sensitive mental state, could I do it? Could I endure it? Which also leads me to another honest question….. am I using my anxiety as a crutch to not deal with everything else? Is my anxiety a product of the abuse? Am I dealing with mental and physical anguish by creating a mental disorder? Was my mind just not strong enough to deal with the truth? Who am I really?

questionSo many questions. So many truths to find out and so many hurtful realizations of myself through reasoning whether I should do this or not. It seems like every option is a con. There are no pros and cons here, only cons and cons. I know it seems like nothing good can come out of any option I choose, and I am not sure there is anything good in a situation like this.

At work this morning, it was all that was going through my mind. All I can do it to let you know how it feels, what I am going through in hopes that it helps someone else. If even one person understands or is going through the same thing, that thing you are going through becomes a “normal” feeling and response. Hearing someone say something that you feel has such a forceful effect on your emotion, it can bring you to tears.

I still don’t know what to do, but that is my struggle. My maze of thoughts, feelings,justiceactions and reactions to find my way through. I will make a decision, with a couple of professional opinions and some friendly advice, in the end I will make the decision that is right for me. I refuse to make a decision that I will be unhappy with. I need to think logically and not emotionally about this, for justice is blind and I have vision. So I must close my eyes and think long and hard.

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.

 

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!

First Step!

7 Oct

I have committed to a healthy lifestyle. I have committed to becoming the strongest person I have ever been in my entire life. I AM. I WILL get strong. I WILL get healthy. I WILL get fit!

I have made an assessment of myself, physical and mental. And I can tell you….they both need some work! Ha Ha! But seriously, I took pictures of myself and really looked at what I have done to myself. It was pretty damned hard to really look. Oh My! I am suffocating myself in all of this extra weight. I swear to the heavens, I am a super hot woman…. but I am hiding. I know what I have done. I know why I have done it.

To lose this weight, I must stay completely truthful to myself and in order to that, I gain strength from you. Yes, my readers. My strength is in the knowledge that I take you with me on this journey. It really empowers me and helps me so much. Thank you, all of you for supporting me all of this time so far. I am excited to take you on this new journey, which is a part of my original one….just on a different level.

I was debating on whether or not to post the pictures of me that I took that I am disgusted by. And, I know you might think that if the committment is true, then I will…..but I don’t think that I can do that. Some of you that read this are my neighbours and friends and such. I love you all….but I just can’t do that. Maybe after a bit, I will show a before and after. Also, I will not tell you my starting weight. Just know that I am somewhere between 2-300 pounds. Even that sentence was rough to say. Ugh.

For all of those people who have never sruggled with weight…. just know that the struggle is real. I just stumbled upon a show called Fit to Fat to Fit. It is pretty amazing. The trainer takes on a client for 4 months and before they start training together, the trainer gains as much weight as possible for 4 months. Then, as a team, they lose the weight together. When watching this, the trainers really have a tough time. They see the heavier side of things. They understand the struggle. That, is very empowering for a life time chubber. I know, that I need support. I need to kick my own ass, but more so, I need to change my way of thinking. I need to take on the values of the importance of keeping my body my temple. I really need to be aware of the consequences when I chose the wrong food to fuel my body.

This is so real right now.

I am scaring myself. But I am going to do this. I want to do this.

You know, I have NEVER worn a bikini. I have NEVER been comfortable in any kind of swim suit. The last time I went on a ferris wheel ride with my child, the bar to hold us in was VERY tight across me. That, felt like shit. Every time I do something or go somewhere, I assess how I can fit, where I will be able to stand or sit. I am aware of my size every single day, everywhere that I am.

Right now, I am starting to blush. I am breathing a little harder…..I am embarassed of what I have done to myself. I have swallowed all of my pain. All of the times of being molested, raped, hit and teased. I tried to eat that away. I tried to wrap myself in a blanket of fat to stay warm and cozy to be protected. All it has done, has made me almost drown.

Time to change.

I actually had my first “all in” day yesterday! I can’t tell you how much better I feel already! I took the kids for an hour long walk, I made a super healthy supper. I did a little bit of exercise. Today, I woke up feeling great! I had energy AND I felt positive and happier. Today, again, super healthy food choices, and I am full. I don’t feel hungry! I feel hunger at night when I am in bed, and I want to keep feeling that. I know my body is burning the fat if I am hungry at night….I need my body to get used to not eating late at night, to not crave bad foods. It makes me excited.

Now, for my goal. I am giving myself small goals of 10 pounds every 9-14 days. My big goal is to lose 100 pounds by my fortieth birthday. Wow, I just shared that goal! It is a huge goal, and I intend to keep it. I have not committed to anything like this with so many people in my life. I feel panic right now….but I got this. Wow. Wow Wow. Thats all I can say.

Okay…..Im gonna do this!

 

The Next Phase

6 Oct

I guess what it comes down to when getting yourself off of drugs without a doctor to guidecant-sleep you, is that it effects your body in phases. First I felt sick, like I had the flu and I was vomiting, then, the dizziness came along with the rest. Now, the flu-like symptoms have subsided, but I still have the dizziness and added along with it is insomnia! Awesome! I am fine all day long, with bouts of dizziness happening and I am great until about 7-8 pm. This is when I really feel woozy and light headed and I start to get really tired. My eyes are little slits and I want to close my eyes. The “funny” thing is, that as soon as my head hits my pillow…..I could take on the world! This. Is. So. FUN!!!!

I do have some restful sleep and I wake up beautifully. I am not groggy, I am happy and look forward to the day. I usually wake up to the sound of one of my sons fighting with the other or just being a little too loud with a breakfast request to my husband! I used to loathe being woke up on a day that I could sleep in. I was downright bitchy if I woke up to some screaming from the kids or some loud damn machine outside my window that the city likes to do….send workers out at 7:30 in the morning to get rid of the stumps or something like that. Ha Ha! I laugh now, because it does not bother me, in fact, it makes me more aware that I am a grown up that owns my own home and has a great family. How about that huh? An anxious person looking on the bright side!! WOW!!! Breakthrough! Ha Ha!!!

Anyways, hopefully this phase of not sleeping will only last a little while. In fact, now that I think of it, none of my symptoms have lasted that long at all. Just the dizziness that won’t really leave. I think I might be lucky in this aspect.

Since I have really started to see the forest through the trees as it were, I have decided to take that next step to get my physical health to match my mental health. I know that by doing this, they will end up benefitting from each other and I will eventually be the best person I can really be.

bestThey say that life is too short, to eat the cake, as it were. Well….I am thinking that if you always eat the cake, your life will end up shorter! I am deciding to make a vow to myself in front of all of you. I will be accountable for my own health, well being and when it comes down to it…..LIFE. I will choose the better way.

I am devoting myself to reach my higher self. To be my own hero in a sense. I will defeat my own demons, I will make the right and healthy choices. I will not deviate from my change of lifestyle. In fact I am half way there already, just by my healthy food choices. Now, I have to get my ass up, out, and burn off all the negativity and repressed feelings that have gathered around my middle, and that is hanging off my arms, that is packed on my thighs, that is making my face super wide….ugh. Gross. Ha Ha! And before anyone who is on the chubby side decides that they don’t like my wording…. Yes, yes, big can be beautiful…I know, except that I don’t feel good like this. Being overweight, I realized that I am weighing myself down. I packed on these pounds to hide all of the hurt. I am carrying around my pain, in fat form. Healthy Life wooden sign with a beach on background

I don’t want to do this anymore damnit! I have had it!!

I have started on a journey. And truth be told….I think the journey started when I accepted the things that I did not want to face. I didn’t want to accept all of my past as the truth. But, it is the truth. I will face it. No more hiding. No more suffocating myself just to stop the truth. What has happened, what other people have done to me…..that is on them. It was unfortunate that these people chose me to do these rotten things to, but if it wasn’t me, it could have been someone else. And maybe that other person couldn’t have been as strong, perhaps that would-be victim couldn’t stand being a survivor, or in the end, would only keep the circle going. I am now grateful that it was not someone else. I would not be who I am today. I wouldn’t be this strong, determined and appalled by injustices. Honestly, I don’t think I would be quite as trusting of others, if that makes sense. No matter who has hurt me, no matter how many times I have been hurt, I never ever lose my sense of trust.

I have one decision in the end. I decide to do this for me. I chose to put myself first right now, to heal, to be the true me. Don’t I sound like an after school special? Ha Ha!!!

It is time. I am going to get fit. I am going to get healthy. I am responsible. My kids are going to love this! I have already told my oldest son that we are going to be more physical. That we are going to go back to the gym. We all need this! Kids soak up everything that they see. I don’t want them to think that a seditary lifestyle is okay, or good enough. I don’t want them to be breathing hard to make it up the stairs. I want them to be confident and healthy!

This journey  is deserving of a name! And since I have a big birthday coming up next year, I will name it after that! What a great start to the beginning of the journey for the rest of my life!

I think it’s going to be Foxy by Forty! (I am *gulp* 39 right now)

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