I have reached 50 posts, and it has been a ride to get here. One of the main reasons I started writing was to document my process of losing weight and finding myself. There have been lots of twists and turns along the way, and a few setbacks. I’m tired. My anxiety and depression have been overdriven due to wounds being sliced open. My eating has been sliding out of control as I fall into old habits of using food to dull the emotional and mental anguish spilling out. My heart breaks as actions by others cause pain for my husband and me. To move forward, boundaries are necessary and even though I have always made concessions to keep the peace, I’m done.
The box holding my past has been cracked open. Like a literal box with old journals and notebooks with writing, taped tightly closed with packing tape. Lifting the lid brought a plethora of emotions, anxiety, fear, anger, and sadness. It is important that I have kept all this information because I have done my best to protect my inner child from relieving the pain. But no longer and it is time to hit it head-on, reasons for how I spoke and my actions. This painful chunk, extending into early childhood, needs to be honored and forgiven. Bits and pieces keep rising to the surface, and I no longer need to make amends. It is long past that stage. I am a good person and no matter what has happened, I need to accept that I did it to protect myself and it was the best I could at that time. I was a CHILD. None of this is my fault.
Every painful part and piece of my puzzle has brought me to where I am today. Things could have turned out very differently; the choices I made were thanks to the universe, making sure I learned from all the mistakes and the good things that happened. To honor that little girl who was hurt way too often by those who should have protected her, I must go back and remember and release the pain. Let her know that she is safe now. It will be much harder to forgive those who did what they did to me, but that is the only way I can move forward and heal. It will not be forgotten.
I am grateful for my many years of therapy, mostly good, but some terrible therapists have given me tools and fixes to get by. Options other than self-harm to process the pain. The worst crutch, food, has proved that it is the one I cannot move forward from. Even with my surgery and changed eating habits, that comes back to me, slightly different form but same demon.
I wrote this in high school, around 10th grade or so. No title or date listed by it, but the notebook was from 1995 or 96.
I suppress the pain within, incapable of sharing the torture of defeat
My true friends-who are they?
The burden is overpowering
Far and near inhabitants of the earth are infatuated with each other
Then there is me
standing aside, terrified of being rejected
it’s happened too many times before
I’m walking through existence in a daze
what’s around the corner, lurking in the shadows
Shunned as they run towards the stunning women
I’m solitaire
All I can do now is gaze longingly and somehow get my hopes up
for the day I am complete
Life
is grueling and cruelhearted
my insides shatter as I quiver within
disappearing in the line of lockers
A dust particle in the immense universe
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