So I was supposed to have the other half of my teeth pulled this past Friday but we were snowed in. It’s been rescheduled for May 9th and I’m on the cancellation list. After the teeth come out and the gums heal, I can get fitted for my dentures. I can’t wait till this is over. I want teeth back!!!
It’s been a rough year. My dad died this past December and, remarkably or not, I had basically no feelings about it. He was my dad, but he was dad in absentia, and there wasn’t really a relationship there. He didn’t like my kids – well, except Becky – and I have trouble with people, especially family people, who don’t like my kids for no good reason other than they don’t like them. He was a sick man both physically and mentally. I don’t have many memories of him but the ones I do have aren’t the best. I feel bad for him and I hope he found peace with God before he died. I really, honestly, don’t know if he did.
It was hard at the funeral hearing them talk about how kind he was to his grandkids. He sure wasn’t nice to my kids. He blamed them for all kinds of things and was kinda mean to them. Of course, Mom said he was abusive to me too, so it’s just a continuation of the story, I guess. I suppose the grandkids he was nice to are the ones his second family of kids had. They were probably perfect just like his girls were. They couldn’t do anything wrong in his eyes. Of course, he raised them. He wasn’t around us much and once the divorce went through I only saw him one other time until I was 18. He’d write, I heard, but Mom, bless her heart, burned the letters and kept the child support checks when he bothered to send one.
Oh well, enough of that. He’s gone now. I hope he found peace.
I’ve been struggling with my weight – still – like I have my whole life. It’s a constant battle. I eat, and then I feel bad, so I criticize myself, and then I feel bad, so I eat. See a pattern here? Yeah, me too. It’s been that way as long as I can remember – as far back as kindergarten, even. It got worse when my stepdad messed with me, jerk that he was….there are enough willing women in the world….why do some pervs have to mess up the lives and minds of poor little girls who are all innocent and stuff? They should be castrated. Seriously. Cut their parts off and let them pee through a suprapubic catheter for the rest of their lives. It’s almost comparable to the crap we go through hating ourselves and thinking we were the ones who asked for Daddy dearest to grope us, or worse….and then we have eating disorders, struggle to make friends and trust people, and are basically screwed up until we either get intensive counseling, learn to live with it, or die….
Yeah. I’m a bit introspective today. Yanno what though? This is probably good. I need to get the junk out of my brain so I can acknowledge it and stop pretending everything was fine and it’s my fault I’m 100 pounds overweight. Because it’s not my fault. I was molested and beaten and psychologically abused and neglected, and I covered my tender, scared, vulnerable little girl with fat to protect her since the people in my life who should have done that didn’t do it. I had to do something. And now, 45+ years later, I struggle with trying to unlearn this coping mechanism, and every time I get kinda going on it, something else comes up, and the mechanism kicks back into high gear and I’m at it again.
I wanna do so many things and I struggle still with the judgmental voices telling me I’m not going to succeed; I’m not going to do it right; I should have done it earlier; I should have done something else; I’m aiming too high or not high enough; those voices get so firmly ingrained in your psyche it’s almost impossible to get them to shut up. I’m not saying it can’t be done. What I’m saying is that it’s really hard and you need lots of support and a cheering section, and my small cheering section and sometimes not so strong support people struggle right now to get from day to day, so that….well, it ain’t going all that well, okay? I’m lucky sometimes to get from morning till night without wanting to just give up.
But I can’t give up. God won’t let me. He loves me, and He hangs on to me even when my hand goes all floppy-like and I’m dragging my feet and bawling and whining and having one big fat grand pity party, and He sits down and holds out his hands and then He hugs me and lets me cry and He comforts me and tells me it’ll be okay, that He’s not gonna judge me because I’m overweight or because I take narcotics for pain or because I only have 11 teeth or because of my thinning hair or because I pick at my sores….or because my youngest daughter won’t let me see her kids, or because we can’t afford to go on a vacation and I really, really, really need one…He loves me anyhow. He’s gonna be here no matter what happens or who craps on me or what breaks or how rotten I feel. He’s right here next to me no matter what. And He tells me I’m not a loser and I’m not ugly and I’m not useless or worthless, and it gets into the cracks in my lumpy, glued up heart, and I know for a minute or two again that I’m gonna make it, and I’m strengthened enough to go on and tackle the next battle.
I’m going to write my book and I’m going to have it published and someone is going to read it and be helped…..inspired…..motivated…..encouraged…..strengthened…..and they’ll be able to go on for another day because I shared my story. It’s going to happen. I’m not giving up. I will succeed.
God bless us all, and hug us in His arms, and love us just because we’re His.