Time To Fess Up

I've posted here recently about being judged.  I'm coming to a point in my life where I don't care anymore.  Well, that's not really true.  You see, I'm a pleaser.  I want everyone to like me and not think I'm a complete blithering idiot. But I also have something I really need to talk about and I just can't do that with people that know me. 

I've been struggling with a lot lately.  Not only my weight, but my propensity to binge drink.  I only drink twice a month, but when I do, look out world because I'm going to do it up big. The other problem with this drinking is that it causes major anxiety for days.  The kind that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin.  Being around other people when I'm in this state is painful.  I wish I would just get the normal hangover with a headache and weak stomach.  I never knew this was something that is quite common. 

 As far back as I can remember, whenever I drank, it was almost always to excess.  Keep in mind that I've gone years without drinking.  In fact, I rarely think about it except when I'm staying with a "friend" every other weekend. I don't drink during the week either.  The counselor that I've been seeing and I discuss whether or not I'm an alcoholic.  One doesn't have to drink daily to be one.  I despise that label like most people would.   

Therapy has been helpful in forcing me to come to terms with why I'm such a mess.  I knew that it mostly stemmed from childhood sexual abuse.  I've seen the counselor cry during several of my sessions.  I think she may be as tender hearted as I.  It's strange to say the least but also makes me realize that the abuse was much more horrible than I ever cared to remember.

We all screw up but my question is why can't I get my crap together?

Roughing It

~edited 10-5-08 to add: I originally wrote this post for my own benefit never expecting to publish it. I accidentally hit publish and this was posted to Google reader. I immediately received emails and comments about where it had gone. I decided to post it since many had already seen it. ~end edit

Life has been more than slightly strange for me for over a year. I've talked in great depth about not knowing who I am based on my extreme weight loss and the way others treat me. People talk at me instead of to me. Sometimes I feel like an object rather than a person. It's easier to stay silent than to try and prove that I actually have a brain and know how to use it (although sometimes that statement is questionable).

There is a lot going on with me right now that I'm not able to share with you all. Just know that my entire life is in complete turmoil. My ultimate goal is to keep things sane for my children. This is proving tougher than I thought. Let's just say that I'm learning what I'm made of.

Most of my life I've fought the idea of going to a counselor but decided that it was time to try and figure out how to fix what is wrong with me. I'm not exactly sure that these sessions are helping much. The person I'm seeing really has no inkling what I'm going through on some levels. Not all of my issues are based on weight loss and I'm hoping to get a better grasp on them.

This whole mid life crap is for the birds. Why do we have to look ahead to tomorrow? I've been living the last couple of years by the seat of my pants, never making any commitments to anyone beyond a day or two. I don't know what my future holds for me so I can't make plans that I may have to break.

There is much in my life that I am very thankful for. I realize that people have problems much worse than mine and I feel like mine are trivial in comparison. Yet, there they are, staring me in the face, begging to be dealt with.

On the positive side, I have amazing friends that are there for me whenever I need them. Without them, I may have been confined to the nearest loony bin. So, if I seem kind of distant and haven't visited you in a while, please don't take it personally. I'm trying my hardest just to stay afloat.

Flash 55, Take 22, Epiphany

Aurora didn't like to be told what to do.
In fact, she went out of her way to do the opposite.

Things always needed to be her way or she never enjoyed herself.

She had been this way as long as she could remember.

She had an epiphany.

An abusive childhood made her this way.


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If you are interested in attempting to write a 55, you can visit here. If you do one, go tell Susie that you did.

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I've been thinking a lot about why I'm so into being in control of what people want me to do. I had blamed this whole phenomenon on being a first born. Most of us like things our way and pout when things can't be perfect. I can remember sitting in the corner pouting because I didn't want to do something I was told to do. Yeah, it was just yesterday.

It had never occurred to me that my control issues were rooted in my childhood abuse. (Weird, I had a hard time writing my childhood abuse. Who else's would it be that I'm talking about? I'm not sure I want to take ownership of that.) Abuse is all about control, or lack thereof for the abused. You're never more out of control than when someone is controlling you using mind tricks.

I've spent the last 30+ years trying to ignore and forget what was done to me as a child not realizing that it would affect me every single day for the rest of my life.

I Don't Have A Title For This One

~Warning! This post contains very personal information that is in no way fun or lighthearted.
Read at your own risk.~

I'm going to let you know my biggest secret. Most of you will click off this page faster than a speeding bullet once you realize what this post is about.

There is a subject that is taboo to talk about. People are made to feel like they should never reveal certain things about their past. If you do, people's views of you will be changed forever.

This secret has scarred me most of my life and I have suffered quietly and alone. Most of you can probably guess what my secret is if you think about it. I'll give you a minute to think about it while I get up the nerve to actually type it out.....









Still chicken.....


Getting braver....





I was sexually molested by three different men who are family members as a child. There! I said it. I feel all queazy and jumbled inside now.

I had put this out of my head for many years rarely thinking about it. It was brought back full circle a few months ago while visiting the behaviorist while jumping through the weight loss surgery hoops. You have to fill out a 10 page questionairre and many of the questions have molestation and rape as their subject. I answered honestly and didn't think too much more about it.

The behaviorist mentioned the subject within one minute of meeting me. He said that if we had had more time, he would have eased onto the topic. Quite frankly, he was astounded and had trouble speaking to me about it. He expressed sadness at what had happened to me.

Until recently, I had only told my parents and husband of this. I have however, let a few bloggers who have become great friends in on my issue. I never saw the need to bring it up and was actually told to keep it quiet by Mr. Sign. He's never dealt with anything like this so that was his coping mechanism.


It took me years to get up the nerve to tell my mom and later my dad (they were divorced). I remember that it took me 2 hours to finally get to it while telling my mother. Even at the age of 10, I knew it would change her view of me and of course I blamed myself. When I finally told her, she told me that she had been molested as a young girl by a cousin. I recently found out that the cousin was about the same age as her and they were in their early teens.

Telling my father was the hardest because one of the perpetrators was his brother. I told him on one of our arranged weekend visits. The same day I told him, my uncle came over. I remember watching out the window as my dad spoke to him. I waited for him to haul off and hit him or at least scream and yell and never have anything to do with him again. I was sick to my stomach when it never happened. I felt like because Dad didn't confront him, it didn't matter what my uncle had done to me. I realize now that my dad is the most passive person I know and would travel around the world to avoid confrontation.

Nothing more was ever said about it but the molestation stopped. My mother and I talked about it about six months ago and I told her I didn't think my dad ever said anything to my uncle. She assured me that he had. She also wanted to know if I thought my younger sister had been touched. I told her that I didn't think so because I always tried to protect her from everything.

The behaviorist asked me if I had ever talked to a professional about my problems. I told him that I hadn't. He asked me how I coped with the problem and I lied and told him that I had started journaling about it. I had great intentions to start but never had the nerve. He told me that he would not have ok'ed me for surgery if I hadn't been journaling. I would have been deferred for one year of therapy. I knew that I would start one day so it was just a little lie, right?

After speaking with the behaviorist, I was a mess. I cried at the drop of a dime and couldn't tell myself why. My mom asked me how it had gone and I told her that I had passed the psychological test by the skin of my teeth. She asked why and I told her what the behaviorist had said about the sexual abuse. She got defensive and said, "Well, it only happened once." I had to explain to her that it had happened for over 5 years from the ages of 5 to 10 with my uncle. I don't know if I left that detail out or if she put it out of her mind. She then got more upset and said that no parent can watch a child 24 hours a day. I was so hurt that she was making it about her. I never blamed her and still don't. Pedaphiles know how to make things happen. I was hysterical when I hung up the phone.

Mom called me the next day and seemed much calmer. She explained that she was caught off guard by what I had told her and she immediately felt responsible. I told her that I didn't blame her. There was nothing she could have done differently. Then, I had to tell her that two of my cousins had also abused me. She was flabergasted that she had no idea that any of this had transpired.

I wanted to write this when I was feeling calm and at peace. It was huge for me to type this out. I'm tyring to get over feeling ashamed about what happened because I know now that it wasn't my fault.

There is a statistic that I read somewhere that said that 85% of overweight people have been sexually abused. We use fat as armor. We want those who see us not to notice us in a sexual way.

I have lived my life thinking that this abuse has not affected my life. I realize now that it affects everything I do. I believe that in writing this, I'm on my way to helping myself overcome this horrific secret.

I know that many of you will read this and most will not comment. I've even thought about turning off the comments but as Sass mentioned yesterday, why have a blog if no one can comment? Isn't that what blogging's all about?

Now, if I can just click PUBLISH......