It’s a little early for melancholy, the drop in mood that occurs each fall. Yet some birds are grouping in trees and practicing flight plans, and others may have already left for warmer climates. The sun sets earlier, rises later, and that feeling of sadness creeps in. The core work of turning a belief of unworthiness into worthiness seems much harder to confront, but there it is smacking me in the face.
Day after day of reversing that loud critic that screams badness, wrongness, and that I’m unfit to live. Hasn’t any progress been made? It seems that the excess weight is proof of my unworthiness. That carrying it is all I have to prove my worth. If I hate myself, will I then be loved by those brothers who feel so unsafe?
That it has always been my job to carry the burden of what was done to me so that the others won’t have to? Yet three out of four attackers have died, and died too early for the normal life span of most. I believe they did carry a very heavy burden which lead to a shorter life. The fourth, not a bit, but at least he moved out west and I have no contact.
Even as little as a month ago Seth sent a group email including that fourth attacker with no awareness that I DON’T WANT TO BE IN AN EMAIL WITH HIM! It took up till this year to request that Stevie and Don not do it, then Seth does it. I did not ask Seth thinking he must know.
But they continue to remain clueless to the wreckage Tom left behind after attacking me. All the years of put-downs, which broke me as much or more than the attacks.
And oh how I want family. Yet cannot. How can I? When those three interact with Tom frequently by email as if nothing ever happened? When I know if he had done to their daughters what he did to me, no way would he be their good buddy.
So the craving continues, both for core feelings of worthiness because that is still elusive, and for family. Having my woman friends over for our monthly get-together brought to light again just how safe I feel with them which is in such opposition to the three brothers who didn’t abuse me.
Making arrangements to spend time with these three brothers brought on sleeplessness with danger sirens so strong they drown me in self-doubt with feelings of failure for not being able to connect. But who really is at fault for that?
When others who profess to love you don’t stand up with you and your testimony of past torture, how can they be trusted? How can I know of my worth if you don’t see me, hear me, or believe me? If you won’t even listen, then put me down for telling my story (which Seth did)?
Reaching an impasse at weight loss isn’t about weight, but about loving myself; honestly respecting my authentic self, my factual story, even when others won’t. Especially then. A reckoning of self. A true face to face. Do you have the courage to truly love yourself? To keep going to places where peace and love grow?