Managing my life seemed to be going so well. The exercise added during the last months is significant offering a great boost in energy and endurance. Foods ingested for the most part have been healthy and what my body needs for optimum performance. Much progress has been made.
Then awake into the night because of my own doing. Eating, and eating too much too late, which for me is after 3 or 4 pm— not enjoying it, tasting it, savoring it, or barely chewing because this hunger erupts not from body hunger but from another kind of hunger more voracious and never satisfied.
Eating past mid afternoon makes sleep difficult due to stomach issues that were serious enough to put me in the hospital for four days. And that is due to complications from the stomach stapling 35 years ago. My mother had an abundance of enthusiasm and excitement believing that was the answer for me. If she had a thin daughter than all would be well.
Our monthly women gatherings, going on now for approximately 15 years, was held at my house yesterday. Usually a lovely time, something ate at me, then I ate, and in the way that began at age 8 when my skinny kid frame blew up like a balloon from the eating…after Danny, a much older sibling, attacked me so traumatically that the memory is still blocked from my consciousness.
It had to have been rape. The details are known from the moment prior when he slunk up to my bed in the darkness and said, “You’ll be the Mommy and I’ll be the Daddy.”
And events afterwards; the water during a bath searing my vagina causing me to scream continuously until the burn faded away, then later in life after asking Danny what he did, “It’s better you don’t know,” confirming what my gut tells me but my psyche continues to protect me from.
The eating machine erected itself immediately at that time as a way to cope. My mother was fraught with chaos going back to work to provide for 8 kids after the death of my father.
The gig was up. Their partying, drinking then making babies was over. Creeping into her bedroom when that days eating to numb out the trauma of what Danny had done made me so very sick, and touching her shoulder lightly to tell her, “Mommy, I’m going to throw up,” her response chilled me as I padded to the bathroom to vomit all alone.
“What do you want me to do, spit straw?” she had answered.
Being split, lost and alone, most dramatically from my very own self and inner core, fused with the trauma solidifying the disjointing making it a life-long effort to find my way back.
When anything occurs now that upsets the balance the machine takes control. And then the barrage of self-hate implodes with brutality. You’re so fat, you’ll always be fat, you, you, you, and on the hate goes, something I know all too well.
It may never be figured out, what it was that bothered me yesterday. But while sitting on the patio with Samuel this morning in the warm sun, the mention of Chris and my annoyance by her snippiness was discussed— so it had to be that.
I am easily used as bait for her lashings, and have little protection from it. She seems loving at times, then so hateful, vindictive and small. It is too like the love/hate relationship I had with my mother.
Friends don’t come easy for me. My best friend gone now 5 years, was only a friend for that same length of time. But at least I know true friendship where love flows even amidst disagreement or differences. I had it once in a lifetime. And now I have me after looking for that too for a very long time.