Sunday, July 24, 2011

Whiner be thy name. Or mine. Whatever.

Tonight I went to one of those kind of events.  If you don't know what that means then you probably don't want to.  Err, how to discuss this in a global way.  Uhh. Hm.  Oh I don't give a shit.  So I went to a party hoping to do some kind of sex play with someone but then I acted like a hostile bitter wallflower and I left feeling depressed.  There.  That is tonight's stupid.  I'm not mad that Noah had some chutzpah and went and found play.  Go him.  He's a fun sexy guy and I'm glad someone is noticing.  Because I'm not.  I don't flirt with Noah and he doesn't flirt with me.  He's afraid to approach me because I am broken.  Because when I don't want to have sex I say yes anyway and he feels like a rapist.  So he doesn't ask very often.  And we only have sex when I initiate.  And it often feels kind of uncomfortably perfunctory.  I'm sad that this is who I am right now.

I'm sad that I feel no desire.  I'm sad that I exude disinterest because I honestly feel no interest.  And it's not because of anyone else.  It's just in me.  On the way back from the party Noah told me that I had this problem until about 18 months postpartum the first time.  So like 7 months to go.  I hope.  This is not my happy face.

I'm also experiencing some noticeable grief about my family.  Not only did Uncle Bob die but I actively took steps to kill off any chance of reconciliation.  I am now dead to them.  I feel like a big part of me died.  I love my family.I feel very loyal to my family.  I feel like a traitor. I feel like I should be shot for treason  Ok, that thought made the waterworks flood.  Yeah.  I hurt my mommy.  You aren't supposed to do that.  Even the bible says to honor your mother and father.  I effectively killed my father and I just yelled about as loud as I could that my mother is a child abuser.  I don't want to think that about my mommy.  I truly don't.  Do you want to know what is making it feel real?  When I say things to Shanna in that tone of voice and I see her cringe.  I know that voice.  That's my mom's voice.  My mom didn't hit me.  She didn't have to.  She could make me feel like I was 3" tall.  I feel that I am teetering on a precarious edge because at this point Shanna turns around and yells at me that it's not ok to talk to her in that tone of voice so uhm, yeah.  She's pretty clear that she's not 3" tall.  And go fucking her.

I feel like I'm 3" tall.  I've been sniping at people lately.  I have no patience and I really want to hurt people who are close to me.  I'm doing it to absolutely everyone.  And I'm having an explosion of guilt and anxiety.  I feel tremendous social anxiety and I'm able to make the most positive situations seem like a tacit rejection of me.  That's pretty ridiculous.  I'm really not rational.  I'm struggling with body issues.  My little sprint on wikipedia called it Eating disorder not otherwise specified which, to be fair I'm not actually looking for a label because I want one.  I was actually looking for a word and I never did find it.  So I have the self image of being a fat person.  I think it is one that I actively want to have.  I think I want it for a myriad of reasons.  I don't think it is actually all that good for *me* to be fat because I have to be fairly sedentary to do it.  When I exercise I get smaller.  It's usually pretty dramatic and given that exercise is good for everyone, blah blah blah... No really, if I'm currently heavy that means I am extremely sedentary.  And that's not a healthy choice for me.  Not saying this is the truth for every body out there.

So uhm I've been binge eating since I noticed that I was getting "too thin".  I have been feeling like I am eating a lot and my clothes are getting tighter.  I feel like I have some weird subconscious thing going on that I associate fat with happy and maybe if I'm eating pleasure signal inducing foods constantly I will like myself more.  Hasn't worked yet but I keep trying.  Maybe I just haven't done it right yet.  Anyway. The part that I get hung up enough on to avoid talking about my mother at all costs (see how I did that; I'm good) is: I weighed myself tonight at my friend's house.  I am lighter than I've been since I got married.  I am certainly at what I consider a perfectly reasonable size.  But it's freaking me out and I'm binge eating to try and not stay in these clothes.  It's complicated.

But back to that mother thing.  Because yeah I'm going to have to figure out a healthy relationship with food and stop alternating between treating it like a punishment (through lack of it) and a reward (through excessive amounts of it).  Jesus I'm broken.  But I'll deal with that bit another day.  Maybe.

Years ago I wrote a story for a writing class that detailed some of the biggest sexual assaults I experienced from non-family members.  Some.  I had my sister read it and her first response was that I couldn't tell mom.  Mom wouldn't be able to handle this.  It wasn't fair for me to burden mom.  I went against orders (because I promise you that my sister considered them on that level) and I had my mom read it.  My mom was strangely sanguine.  Like, this definition: Anticipating the best; optimistic; not despondent; confident; full of hope.  By which I mean she apologized for not being there for me.  She cried about her weaknesses as a mother.  Then she went on to fairly casually talk about how we can move on now because the past is behind us.  WTF?!  (And I do actually say W- T- F.)  Yo!  Bitch!  It's not that easy.  I don't believe there is any reparation she could do for what her negligence did to me.  I really don't.  That's not about my overwhelming bitterness.  That's about the fact that there is nothing in the world she could do to earn my trust.  And if I think you are a rattlesnake, well... you really aren't someone I want near my home or my kids.  I don't know what you might do.  That tears it and buries it.  (Where the heck do I get these expressions?)  Yeah.  No.  Which means I have to deal with the results of that on my end.  I have to deal with the loss of my mom.

It really sucks.  Just sayin'.  There is no way for her to be a person I can have a healthy relationship.  Ok, how can I go about the business of just being healthy instead of being fucked up now that I am removing the fucked up influences?  I'm not really sure.

Areas That Could Use Improvement:
-my overall disposition. I act like everything and everyone is an inconvenience.
-my relationship with food and my body.  Making choices other people disagree with is ok.  Making choices I don't agree with because I am so uncomfortable in my skin... not so good.
-liking sex again.  That would be kind of nice.
-my tremendous social anxiety that is creating a brick wall between me and people who like me.
-my willingness to see myself as having worth.

And you know, could I start providing my children with a more stimulating mental situation so that they can be properly socialized... right.  Not that I'm under. any. pressure.  I'm sure I'll make a fabulous first impression with the local homeschooling community.  Ah shit.  I'm really afraid to get involved with the local homeschooling community right now because I'm afraid that people won't want their children to socialize with my kids because I am broken and bad.  Like, this is seriously keeping me up at night.  Shanna asks about R a lot.  She asks when she can see him again.  She asks why she can't see him any more.  I feel pretty shitty that the answer is I made R's mom so uncomfortable that she won't let him be friends with you.  I don't want to fuck things up for my kids this early in life.  I want to wait until they are a little older.  I already had a best friend by Shanna's age.  I feel like I am denying her some crucial life experience and isolating her unreasonably.  But she's 3.  I haven't ruined her life yet, right?

1 comment:

  1. "treating [food] like a punishment (through lack of it) and a reward (through excessive amounts of it)"

    I hear ya.

    Sometimes I also include food as a punishment (excessive amounts) and a reward (denying myself), and that isn't any healthier, of course.

    It sucks to feel broken. I am choosing this section of your post to comment on because I empathize with it. (That, and the 3-inches-tall tone of voice from my mother.) I feel broken about food. And I am healing. Sometimes the healing is about actively making better choices, and sometimes just being able to be me, do my thing, eat as part of life and not NOTICE is what signifies my healing.