One of my more debilitating anxieties to date is that which I have with time. My time anxiety has often left me feeling very panicky. My heart thumps out of my chest. My hands get all cold and shaky. And depending on what is going on at the moment I find myself have difficulty focusing. I read two articles trying to gather some background info on time anxiety. I wondered if it was a real thing since sometimes people like to poke fun at it… like how I was afraid of missing the boat when we went on the cruise two weeks ago…. My goodness has it really been that long??? Is it really September???? You know honestly I feel time is moving too fast. I mean geez Christmas, New Years, and birthdays have been whipping around at what feels like light speed. Every year I get older and I still don’t even know if I want kids! The panic is real people the panic is real. Continue reading
I had an appointment with my therapist this morning (I’m super happy she is back from maternity leave). We talked about all the self-deprecative silly thoughts bestowed upon my psyche this past couple weeks.
- I turned 35 and I am acting like I am so old. I am getting married soon and I am excited about that… but then I start thinking about kids… and the fact I am still not 100% on where I stand with that… and how I will be 36 if all goes right when I become pregnant for the first time. I know women are having children later in life than in the past but I can’t help feeling scared about it.
- I am having many more “I feel fat and ugly” days recently. I am trying to get healthier but every 3 steps forward I fall back 2 1/2. It’s like I can’t east anything without it attaching itself to my stomach. Fat loves my stomach 😦 I don’t place my happiness on being thinner but I really would love to do things without all the extra pain and effort it takes.
- My troubled past creeps in from time to time knocking me out of nowhere when it does. This past weekend I was reminded how sometimes… if not most of the time.. people don’t like to get involved in situations that don’t involve them. A conversation was had amongst friends regarding some new loud neighbors… and possible abuse happening. I made the suggestion that the cops be called but I was retorted with a “I don’t want to get involved.” This brought me back to the time my neighbors didn’t call the cops when I was screaming for my life. Instead they called the rental office to complain about the noise level coming from our apartment. This naturally dampened my mood and I ended up crying waiting on a line to buy lake tour tickets.
- This led to me hating on myself. I hate that I cry all the time. I hate that these memories and pains can’t just disappear completely from my life. I understand that this is impossible that my past is a part of my but I don’t want it to keep interfering with my future.
- This brought my thoughts to what is the point of life and why even exist? No I would never kill myself but that still don’t stop me from questing the point of it all if pain never completely heals.
- I actually said the words to myself… I hate being white. Driving through the south we saw a whole lot of confederate flags… a friend who lives down south doesn’t go to certain places because her skin is brown… this superiority complex of some white people does not represent me… so why do I beat up on myself? I don’t treat people like I am better… never have.
- I bury my depression in shopping but I need to focus on saving… so my internal struggle to want stuff with the words Harry Potter or Star Wars on it is at odds with my desire to go on vacations… what the hell is wrong with me!
I am in so much mental pain I don’t know what to do with it all.
I am a firm believe if you do good then good will find its way back to you. This is how I try to live my life. There is enough hatred and anger in the world that I try to spread the love to the best of my abilities. Am I perfect at this? No. For instance, there are plenty of times where I won’t give people money on the street. Sometimes it is because I really don’t have any or I am simply scared (depending on time of day… I’m more afraid of others in the night time hours… and I don’t care what color your skin is I am just a natural born jitterbug when the sun goes down). I believe people term this cause and effect relationship as Karma. Continue reading
This post is me trying to work out my thoughts and feelings over the past 3 ½ years since the abuse ended. If I am wrong and define something incorrectly feel free to let me know.
From what I took away from her post is that if you still feel pain you have not forgiven. I have previously written about forgiveness and how I have developed a negative view of the concept. You can read about it here if you like Spiritual abuse and my fallout with religion.
I still have many questions like
1. Does God give forgiveness to people who are premeditative in their violence?
2. Does he just blanket forgive or does he need to know in your deepest of hearts that you are truly reformed?
I seriously don’t like how negative and cynical I have become regarding anything of religious nature. The good part is that I understand where it is rooted. What I need to realized and accept is that no matter what… when a group of people gather there will always be bad apples. Why these bad apples need to relentlessly find me, however, escapes me at the moment. Also, it is not that I don’t believe in spirituality or God. I honestly do think there is more to us than our human forms. I believe in an afterlife and from all the books I have been reading it sounds wonderful and comforting. Yet still I fear death.
Anyway what is bringing this topic back to the forefront was this past weekend. I had a flashback relapse when I was off my medicine. I was remembering a specific abusive event… became overwhelmingly angry towards my immediate family members… woke up my boyfriend asking for a hug… then fell asleep before him. My biggest question for myself is why do I still feel that anger? I have gathered that the reason is due to not having really forgiven anyone for their perceived negligence towards me.
I just cannot completely wrap my head around forgiveness but that is at a larger level. I need to look at it from a smaller perspective. I need to think about what forgiving people can do for my mental health and personal relationships. I have come to understand that because I hold onto the past I continue to let myself feel like people don’t care. It causes tension for me and sometimes I cannot look anyone in the eyes. Here is a quick example of how my holding on to the past can wreak havoc for the present…
You know how people like to call those who felt betrayed by family members who voted Trump “crybabies.” What a terrible assumption. I am in this named group of “crybabies” because I absolutely felt betrayed by my family when they all lined up to vote for that moron who treats women like objects and is sexually abusive. As a person who was abused, and still apparently holding onto it, it felt like I was right back in that relationship with a narcissist asshole and I was invisible to everyone. I thought to myself how can they vote for someone like and defend his horrible words towards women when I was sitting right there. I lived through someone treating me poorly. Don’t defend it in front of me. That is why I get so burnt up when I see this “crybaby” term being thrown around. Unless you walked in the persons shoes and lived their life you have no right to pass judgment (I make every effort possible to live by these words but I know I can be better.) Plus, the internet has provided a safe space for people to bully others but that is a whole other issue.
The lesson learned here was that holding onto the past created a stressful situation in my present which messed up my biological womanly functions for three months. I still don’t know how to deal with it but at least I can recognize where my problem can be found.
It is true that ultimately we are the controllers of our emotions. Yes people can cause us pain but we can chose how we react to it. I suppose I hold on to resentment because I am looking at it in terms of fairness. If I let something go then the person/people who hurt me get off scotch free. No harm no foul. I let it go and it would be like it never happened. I am giving them carpe diem. How is that fair? Truth is it shouldn’t be about fairness.
1. What do you gain by holding onto resentments?
2. How do you know how the other person/people are feeling? You’re no mind reader!
First, I gain nothing but sadness and anger when I hold onto resentments. By forgiving and truly letting go I can free myself from this dreaded inner cycle. I understand the “what” I just need to execute the “how.” I believe I will find the “how” through a meditation practice. My family is important to me. I held on to the bitterness because I wanted them to understand my point of view on my life and how I felt. Secondly, whether they do or not, for my own wellbeing, I need to let it go and truly forgive. I don’t know what I need from them, but I cannot keep trying to seek the unknown while at the same time punishing everyone whenever I feel the anger resurfacing. I am a happy girl. I am grateful for my wonderful life. The fact that I still felt pain meant that I never forgave. I was displaying something called grace… if I understood A Thomas Point of View’s post. Regardless, I need this sadness and anger gone. I just want to love everyone and have everyone love me back. I want nothing but love to flow through my life and those around me. Is that so much to ask? I know I can get there and it starts with me. My first step is this.
I forgive you.
I forgive you for not understanding my situation… or turning a blind eye… or simply not hearing my cries for help. Truth of the matter is I am equally responsible. I had all the phone numbers and pamphlets you can image. The college gave them to me. I even called Safe Horizon once. They talked about moving me out of the borough and that I would likely have to leave my job. I hung up the phone because I was scared to just leave and, as stupid as this sounds, I didn’t want to quit my job at the library. I loved that job and I put it before my own safety on more than one occasion. At the end of the day I just didn’t have the strength to do it alone. I was too afraid. I forgive you even if you disagree that you had any contribution for any of my pain. Even if this is all one-sided I no longer want to have that as something between us. It is not fair to you and it is not fair to me. I need to put this specific pain firmly behind me because I truly do love you all so much.
Now only if I could forgive myself.
One of my longest blogging buddies Giggling Fattie tagged me for the #MyFirstPostRevisited challenge.
I will be stealing What Sandra Thinks corrected rules! I want to participate but then my annoying inner insecure self doesn’t want to bother people. I never get bothered by these just so you all know! I enjoy them.
Here’s what I’m
supposed to going to do…
» Copy and paste your old post into a new post
or reblog your own bad self. (Either way is fine but NO editing.)
» Put the hashtag #MyFirstPostRevisited in your title.
Tag five other bloggers to take up this challenge.
Notify your tags in the comment section of their blog
Feel free to cut and paste the badge to use in your post.
» Include the rules in your post.
I think a reintroduction is a great idea. My blog has grown significantly since I began nearly a year and a half ago. I think at times I have stepped away from what I said my goals were when I began. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized that this blog often flows with the way my mind works… jumping to random topics. I have worked all that out… after all it is my blog! Without further ado here is my very first post But let me first write an introduction. It was done probably 2 to 3 weeks after I signed up with WordPress. I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of my newly minted blog that I waited for one of the Blogging 101 classes to begin before I posted anything. It was a fun class that brought me to many of you!
I would like to begin my blogging adventure with a short introduction and intent for what I will be sharing with whoever stumbles across my ramblings. My name is Stephanie and I am 33 year old woman from New York City. Like so many people I have had a life long struggle with allowing others to shape my opinions of myself. Over the past year my life has changed in so many profound ways that I have had this nagging feeling to write about it. That is why I have begun this blog. I am blogging publicly because I want to join in the body positive revolution by contributing my story and journey in hopes of helping others. I also want to contribute to the fight to end emotional, mental, and physical abuse. I hope to inspire others to do the same because no two peoples’ stories are the similar. We may share in the struggle but we each handle them in our own unique ways. We can learn from one another. Form a community with a stronghold of support. It took me decades to finally get a grip on myself and now I want to extend the invitation to join me on my journey to sustainable happiness and self-acceptance.
The title of this blog, “When I thought I was fat,” was born from my constant complaining about how “I wish I was the weight I was when I thought I was fat.” A mouth full I know, hence the shorter title, but for me, there is no truer statement. Ever since I was around six years old I believed myself to look like a “rollie pollie.” This was a result of how adults spoke to me and how it made me feel. From my cheerleading coaches to family members, no one was exempt from my overpowering abilities to let the words of others shape my self-esteem as I grew up.
Yet now when I look at old photographs of myself I do not see a “rollie pollie.” I see an active child. An athletic child. A child capable of doing all the same things, and sometimes even more, than children that were considered “thin” or “light.” I see a young high school girl that wore clothes that were entirely too big to hide this hideous thing people called “fat.” Yet I sit here now typing my first blog 70 pounds away from my high school weight wishing so bad to get that number back.
I began diets every Monday. Meal skipped. Joined a gym. Began weight watchers. Gave up. Rejoined a gym. Rejoined weight watchers. Starved myself. I was stressed and living in an unhealthy environment where I was made to feel worthless by a man who claimed to care for me. I wasn’t good enough as I was. I wasn’t pretty until I was thin. I didn’t deserve the respect of a man until I was thin. Everything was just on the other side of the “until I was thin.” All this accumulated to my highest weight of 338 lbs. Last June I joined weight watchers for the last time. Ditched the gym because I discovered long walks worked best for me. Through the support of my family, friends, weight watchers groups, and therapy, I have learned to take things day by day. I learned that I am more than just a number on a scale. I learned to be happy with myself as I am now. I have not mastered self-acceptance perfectly but I am so much stronger than I was two years ago.
Every time I have a question about the abuse I went through I turn to my handy dandy book, It’s My Life Now: Starting over after an Abusive Relationship or Domestic Violence. This truly has been a wonderful resource and has made me realize what I went through was not unique. Many of the situations mentioned in the book I was able to check off. From the book I was able to identify the physical, emotional, and financial abuse that I was subjected. Today I ruminate about a recent discovery. Another set of dots I can connect on trying to figure out why my attitude and feelings I have changed Continue reading