Exploring Expletives

I went to see the movie "Julie & Julia" with my mother (Julia who goes by Julie) on Labor Day. The movie is based on the true story of writer and blogger Julie Powell who decided to cook her way through Julia Child's French cookbook in the span of one year and blog about it. The story intertwined with the life story of Julia herself; it was so interesting to learn about the classically trained quirky chef and the things that she and her husband went through. Yes, basically it was a "chick flick" but I enjoyed it for its closer to truth than fiction story lines.

Anyway, considering this post is about expletives, I suppose I should make the segue to why "Julie & Julia" relates to the topic. The movie was virtually free from any foul language--aside from duck deboning or poultry trussing, har har har--and sexual innuendo with pasta. The most blatant expletive usage was the part of which my mother did not approve: the F Word placed at an entirely fitting and completely hilarious moment.

Confession: I dig the F Word and all its variations. It is one of my all-time favorite words, perfect in so many usage possibilities: noun, verb, adjective, in compound forms...so satisfying in its nastiness (with a lot of possibilities I'd forgotten about until I Googled the etymology of it). If not for the fact that it makes me sound so uneducated and uncouth I would use the F Word with reckless abandon. It is, unfortunately, a habit that rears its ugly head mostly on those occasions when I am interacting with obstinate inanimate objects, obnoxious or inept drivers, or, I'm most embarrassed to say, when my mother pushes my last button.

My mother HATES the F Word. Vehemently. Passionately. Abhors it. That is what originally inspired my desire to use it in her presence.

My father, on the other hand, was a most gifted and proficient curser. He was in the military and certainly retained many colorful expressions from that time. And as I practically worshiped him as a child, I wanted to emulate him. And, of course, in school it was so cool to cuss behind adults' backs. I became a pro profaner. And bottom line, I just liked the way it sounded and how it gave power to my speech.

I have tried to kick the habit and clean up my language and have been able to considerably limit the usage of expletives. When I start getting wound up I tend to use quite a few--something I still really need to work on.

But, I've been really thinking about words and how the Bible says that life and death is in our tongues. I have come to realize I've been dividing expletives and such into two categories: completely evil and really-meaningless-yet-not-so-nice.

I abhor taking God's name in vain! I do not OM_ opting for "ohmygosh" or something similar to make a point, and I can't believe how many avowed Christians use God's name so flippantly. He must be so grieved that people have become so blasé that they don't think twice about cursing Him. I'm not perfect, of course, especially when it comes to things like, "Oh, Lord" or something similar when not beseeching Him. How many of us use it and don't think about it? I've caught myself doing it and have felt so ashamed.

It's easy to become self-righteous about overt blasphemy like taking God's or Jesus' name in vain, but how often do the phrases roll off of our tongues and we don't blink an eye? Why don't we think it's a big deal to OM_ but have hissies over the F Word or slang for body parts?

I have stopped watching many movies and reading many books for taking God's name in vain in one way or another. I think it only took 3 minutes of "Hancock" for Will Smith to take Jesus' name in vain. I still remember he landed inside the car and then said it. Can't tell you what happened after that. I put down one of Nicholas Sparks' last books not too far into it for the character saying Jesus' name in vain.

I can't even tell you the last time I listened to mainstream radio. I realized several years ago that I have to be careful about the music that I listen to because I have such a connection with music, enjoy singing so much that I really take the lyrics to heart. When I listened to some songs I ended up thinking about doing things I shouldn't or feeling bad about not being like the people in the songs or having what they were singing about--mostly to do with men, love, sex, a beautiful body.... Yes I've heard, seen and read a whole lot less, but I can say that there's been a lot less "garbage in" thus producing much less "garbage out."

Why is blasphemy so accepted that people don't even bat an eye anymore? A friend of mine said the Sparks book was so great. When she asked me later how I liked it I told her I didn't finish it and why. She said she hadn't even noticed, and she's a Christian. How sad.

OK, so then when you think about other things that we say: take "damn". Now there's a word we shouldn't be slinging around, especially followed by "you" and definitely not preceded with God's name! I tend to catch myself damning "its". And then there's "Hell" that definitely should not be used lightly! I think if we were more serious about making sure people weren't going there and not so focused on fitting into the world we might take notice of some of these things.

You know another word we really shouldn't use so casually is "holy." I've been to Toledo, and it's not all that. I love me some cows--they're udderly fantastic and hay, I cud milk the puns for all they're worth--but really, they are not holy! Shouldn't we limit our usage of that word to the One Who truly is holy? My Saviour's Name, my Almighty Creator's Name is precious, and the reality of salvation and damnation should make those of us who should "know better" to choose our words more carefully.

So, when you think about the F Word, it's not quite on the same plane as these other infractions, it's just a word. It is not a nice word, and it can definitely be used to get into trouble with someone sexually, or can be used to hurt or incite someone to anger, but is it so bad?

Well, the Bible says we should refrain from all bad language and speaking:

"Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers." Ephesians 4:29 KJV

"But shun profane and idle babblings, for they will increase to more ungodliness. And their message will spread like cancer." II Timothy 2:16-17a NKJV

The F Word may only be a word with no real spiritual significance, but bottom line, I should not be using it, should not be telling any off-color or down-right dirty jokes, or making any sexual innuendos whatsoever. What it comes down to is can what I say cause someone else to stumble, or give them an excuse to not want to be a hypocrite Christian like me? I don't want to take the chance!

So, there you have it, my exposition exposing extraneous and exploitative expletives.

Have you truly listened to yourself lately? Do you know what others are hearing you say? Do you realize what God is hearing you say?

My mom used to wash my mouth out with liquid dish soap when I was a kid--she would probably be jailed with my removal from her custody in today's pansy world. But I was such a little tyrant that I would smack my lips and exclaim how good it was and would actually ask for more.

You have to hand it to my mom, she tried her best with what she had to work with. I have told her before she should have beat me within an inch of my life, but it's too late now!!! Maybe I should employ the dish soap deterrence system to keep me from further expletive explosions. Naaaaaaaaaaah! But I definitely want to clean up my language and bring glory to My Heavenly Father. Shouldn't we all?

Be blessed-

Jan

Another WOW Moment & Kick in the Pants

So, I just had a two and a half hour conversation with Pablo and he gave me more "wows" and helped me see what I've been doing and face more truths about myself. Praise God, but golly, how many more things do I need to get kicked over before I "get it" myself and stop acting foolishly?

(By the way, there will be a good post in the future about expletives, but I couldn't concentrate because of this, so stay tuned....)

I've been leaning unto my own understanding. Not a good call on my part. I've been allowing fear to dominate my life still and yet not seeing it that way. I've been trying to force plans and panicking about what I think I should be doing instead of finding where God wants me to be according to His time and plan.

Ugh, I feel like a big screw-up right now, but I'm glad to be getting over the looking stupid part and just try to see the light. Poor Pablo, I am so glad he's in my life but I know he's about tired of my crap and that I never seem to "get it". I'm tired of that, but I think it's because I've been trying to use my brain to figure things out instead of asking God and seeking help from others. I cannot be left to my own devices.

That's actually pretty much what this morning's sermon was about: letting God work in and through us instead of trying to do it ourselves. I have been asking God to get me out of my own (His) way. I've been asking that, but I haven't been actively doing it myself. I'm not quitting God or giving up on serving Him, but I know I'm not trying hard enough to just rest in Him while being active in my pursuit of Him and being everything He wants me to be.

Now, I have been a quitter my whole life. If something's too hard, if it seems like I just don't get it, if I'm thinking I'm probably a bigger problem than I could actually be a solution, whatever it is that is going through my head at the time, whatever it is that I am obsessing about or focusing on, that's what makes me quit.

I quit the history fair in grade school when one of my friends decided not to do it because it just was too much work and we shouldn't make the effort. (Jan the Follower didn't see the destination of accomplishment & learning, just the journey of work & effort with the possibility of failure.) I quit the Women in the Sciences program in junior high because I wanted to seem cool to the same friend who was quitting 'cause it just was too boring. (Jan the Follower) I wanted to quit band my freshman year of high school because I wasn't as good at it as my brother and didn't want to work as hard at it as he did, but my mom made he keep at it. (Jan the Lazy & Fearful of Failure)

Gosh, I've sat here thinking about the things I've done or not done, accomplished or not accomplished, and about the question that Pablo asked me: what motivates me?

I've been a very selfish person. I've been motivated by money, I've been motivated by how it makes me look to others, I've been motivated by the hope for acceptance, I've been motivated by guilt, by fear, by sense of duty, but I've also been motivated by love, compassion, the sense of doing what's right, all very unselfish motives. I've had a lot of different motivations in doing or not doing many things.

So, now, the big questions: what do I really want to do, and why do I really want to do them? And the next big things are, how will I accomplish them, what lengths will I go to finish the tasks, and are my true motivations going to make me succeed--or will I fail or quit like I have so many times?

Well, I need to really peel away all the shoulds and coulds, and decide where my heart lies. What is my attitude toward all of the things I might do, and what do I think my true calling is? What have I labeled myself as, why am I afraid of some of the labels I might have, and why do I think I have to have a label at all?

Since I lost my full-time job last year I have been in limbo. This job was a source of income, a source of insurance, a source of an identity. It was not a source of pride, a source of accomplishment, a source of challenges to make me grow. But I mourned the loss of my comfort and my pride.

Losing that job was one of the best things that has happened to me. But I have dreaded the question: "Where do you work?" because to me and the typical American, that 40-hour a week position with benefits and retirement defined my role as a productive--and acceptable--member of society.

I didn't see that I was just a fake bankrupt character not giving my best at something that didn't make me want to be the best. However, since then, how have I defined myself? Mainly as a failure. Have I really tried to be anything more than that? Not really except that Praise God I finally in the last couple of months figured out that I need to live in the Light of God and actively work for Him.

Awesome!

Except:

I have been frantically trying to apply my definition of what really following God is, and that definition has been wrong. Thank God above that He had Pablo kick me again to make me realize that I have had it all wrong, and I've been trying to force a black and white idea of what I think I "should" be on God. And, in doing that and planning some grand scheme of a new life I was quitting everything that hasn't been working in my life--and not working because I had not been working, because I had again quit and given up because what I thought should happen by now hasn't been happening so obviously I shouldn't be doing it.

Yes, sort-of. I shouldn't be doing it the way I have been doing it. Aha! (Wow.)

So, then, back to motives: why have I been doing/not doing what I've been doing where I am? Fear. Indecision. Plain old giving up instead of seeing the big picture. Forgetting where I started.

Thank God again Pablo reminded me of where we started and how far we've come, and how we even began. If not mainly for him, we would not be where we are--because of all of the reasons I listed above that have resulted in me not accomplishing much of anything.

I'm going to be completely vulnerable here: since I have let so many of those things cause me to fail in the past, what makes me think I can do it this time? How many things have I started and never finished?

Oh gosh, that list would be a long sucker.

I have to be honest here and say I'm scared. I'm scared I am going to fail.

But, I'm scared of not trying and that scares me worse than the possibility of failure.

I know if I don't try then I might as well hang it up right now, sell all that I have left, move in with my mom, give up and die before I reach 50 like the doctors say I will anyway. That would be SO easy.

My mom would take care of me. I could be selfish and let her. She would do it, and I have plenty of excuses as to why I could go that way. I've been diagnosed with just under a dozen pretty major conditions. She can work circles around me. She's lonely and would like the companionship. I'm alone and would have somebody taking care of me. I love my mom, she loves me, and I know she believes that I am a victim of a lot of bad circumstances, and that bottom line I am her sick little fat girl she needs to take care of.

Ouch. Let's just put it out there.

I've played the victim my whole life. I have indeed been a victim of many painful things throughout my life, but I DO NOT want those things to define me any longer. If I would choose to give up and let my mom take care of me then I would be giving in to playing the victim. Unfortunately she has been doing the same thing for many years as well. We've both been drama queen victims wallowing in the fact that life isn't fair and we've been too afraid to be hurt any more.

It would be so easy for me to exploit the co-dependant relationship we've had. I have plenty of reasons why I could give up. It's just too hard to accomplish anything when you have as many physical ailments as I. How can you think when you barely sleep, have "brain fog" are in constant pain, are plagued by depression and anxiety...? And since Dad died, Mom has been lonely, and fearful, so we would be in a sense taking care of each other....

I rebuke it all in the name of Jesus! I am not defined by diagnoses, and if I stay in that mindset I am dead already. We are no longer victims of past abuse. I choose to live, and to do so, I must choose how I am going to live, and decide what's most important to me.

I need to keep these things in front of my eyes. How do I do that? Am I really so shallow that I don't have that sticking ability? I seem to always unravel once the passion of the moment subsides, as Pablo said, once the emotion fades. My resolve and motivations must be strong or I will let go again and quit.

My parents are two of the reasons why I have always done these things, I know that, but I can't continue doing it just because they inspired or encouraged these traits. I know that a lot of the reasoning behind my quitting things is fear, and the fear is driven by my diminished self-esteem resulting from my father's mental abuse. My mother has always been plagued by low self-esteem and fear, and just caved-in when things were too hard, ran away from them or simply cried. I learned from the best two on why or how to avoid things.

But, I can't live in the past, I can't blame them forever. I have to take responsibility. And I have to admit I'm worried that maybe deep down I am shallow.

No, I can't believe that. I know the truth about what God made me to be: I'm fearfully and wonderfully made--but not made to be fearful. God has not given me the spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind. And the work that He started in me He will not quit until it is finished. He Who is in me is greater than he who is in the world.

Oh, God, why is it so hard to be what You want me to be and what I want me to be? If You could just go ahead and flip that switch in my heart and head that changes me, I'd be really grateful!

All right, so then, balls to the wall, I'm deciding what's important to me, and why they're important to me, and that they're important enough to WORK at, and having faith that I will succeed in persevering and not being a quitter.

Now seriously, let me give myself a bit of credit. I have wanted to quit working on the business stuff since about the beginning because of being so scared and just fearful of trying anything at all, being afraid I was too sick to see it through, and because of the volatile relationship Pablo and I had at the beginning. Here we are nearly 3 years later and I'm still here. Now, technically I was ready to quit tonight, but not to do nothing and let my mom take care of me.

I want to work for God and I know that He has a calling on my life.

However, I was trying to force His Hand in a way, dictating what I thought He would want of me, and thinking it was that way or the highway. But thank God He gave Pablo such discernment and a window into my heart and head that he made me realize what I was doing was not according to God's will, but what I was telling God His will was.

And let me be honest, I know that my relationship with my mom is one that tempts me to just do nothing, and I keep thinking I need to escape from it and leave this place. If I'm supposed to be working for God, and I need to get away from where I am, I made the giant leap to packing up and moving half-way around the world as the answer.

Once I think about it and deconstruct all of my behavior I really seem so very foolish and childish. I'm embarrassed by my gung-ho "my way" grandiose yet escapist thinking. Thank God He sent my best friend and covenant relationship partner Pablo to tell me when I'm acting like an imbecile and getting too big for my britches, or allowing my fear to dictate my actions.

OK, so, what does all of this mean? This means that right now I'm in my WOW! stage and am feeling like I can march through the world and conquer everything! So then, that means I need to go pray now, and tomorrow, and forever, to just stay raw and vulnerable about who I am and am not, and about what I want to do while making sure I'm in God's will: take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.

Now let me say one thing I've been learning about God's will, and one lie in my head that has the ability to keep me immobile: there is no great light bulb that is going to come on over my head, no great big magic wand that's going to come out of thin air and bonk me on the head sending stardust into my eyes so I can magically see His will, no great booming voice saying, "Aha! Yes, move now, this is My will!" Poof! Eureka, you've got it!

I've been waiting for that my whole life and that has rendered me useless.

That's a big reason why I was trying to force God's Hand in my plans because I have spent so much time waiting and doing nothing that I decided to do the polar opposite, decided I better saddle up and ride, full steam ahead! (I do so love mixed metaphors.)

I don't know why I tend to think it always has to be one way or the other. I don't have to define God's definition of serving Him for Him according to my preconceived notions. But I do know that there are things in my heart that I still want to do for Him. Pablo made me see that I was just trying to force it how I thought it had to be. I don't like being so blind--God give me eyes to see, ears to hear, a clean heart and a renewed spirit, please.

OK, so moving away from Plan B, which is what I was on...to Plan...G, I think.

And I need to stop trying to partition life into certain segments and think they shouldn't interact. Hello!?!?! Where did I begin with Pablo, with business? With God. And with God, all things are possible, right? So why wouldn't they still interact? Why would I think one is interfering with the other?

Oh God, I've been foolish in my thinking. Thank You for showing me my errors in thinking, and for sending me Pablo.

OK, so I guess that's where I will leave it for now. Not at all what I thought I would be writing as my next post. I already have the other one written and intended to just type it up. Wrong-o. And I'm so glad, I'm so glad that I can use this blog to work through my issues.

I wonder sometimes if this blather helps anyone out there at all. Does anyone aside from a couple of my friends read this--and gosh, considering how much I have put out here, what on earth must they be thinking of me?

When I started the blog I thought maybe my stories would help other people see that they're not the only ones going through stuff--that I was making a difference. In the middle, I lost that and hoped that people were "reading me" and I was important, until I forgot to remember my place in Christ and went with the lie that I was crazy--ugh those are painful posts to reread let me tell you, though I praise Him that He brought me out of that Egypt!

But over the last couple of months I've realized that my motivation has changed back to what it was in the beginning, with the addition that it's not that I am looking to help someone or else it's not worth it, a false sense of being needed or important, but into a hope that in baring my heart and hurts, in releasing the pain or pleasure that my life brings, I may be able to help someone, even if I never have a clue about it, and really, I'm helping me be a better me, so I am helping myself.

How can anyone else love me if I don't love myself? Writing in this blog helps me love myself. That's really cool to realize actually.

So, anyway, that's where I am: Plan G. I'll keep you posted, literally.

Be blessed!

:) Jan

Tired and Sad

Well, I am happy to say that I am finished with all of my Disability paperwork to date. It has been a long and arduous project. It started in January when I was on those heinous Tramadol pills. I ended up messing up that set of paperwork so much I had to just type them out. It's been crazy.

Last night I almost had a melt-down when the computer came up with a message that the file had become corrupted or was lost.

!@#$%^&*

Then I couldn't make Word work at all.

!@#$%^&*

Had I not been talking to my best friend Pablo I am sure I would have completely lost it and had a drama fit. After all of that work and I thought I had lost it all! It took forever to get the computer to shut down, and then forever to reboot, and then a short forever to get the file to come back up. Pablo held my hand virtually until it came back. I love that boy.

So today I went to print the thing off to mail and...ran out of ink.

!@#$%^&*

So, I had to go out to the office supply store and get some so I could finally put that thing in the mail. I am SO glad it's not here anymore, I've had enough of it, all the way around.

:) :) :) :) :)

But, I have to say that dwelling on everything in those reports has taken a toll on me. It took quite a physical toll, especially this last week as I have worked like crazy to get them finished and back to the SSD office. All of the typing and sitting for hours at a time really wreaked havoc throughout my body. This will be a short post, I think, as my hands and back already hurt so much.

But the other thing about filling out those reports--Work History, Function, and Symptoms--they really hit home the reality of how badly my body functions now. And that has put me into rather a sadness and I think a type of mourning for my losses.

As I filled out the work history, I went through all of my jobs for the last 15 years. The very first one on the list was as a Student Manager of my university dining hall. I loved that job, and I was really good at it. I could buzz around that dining hall from one end to the other and not miss a beat. I smelled like a French fry all the time, but I loved it. That was a really hard job and I did it well. And it grieves me to think I cannot perform even a fraction of that job today.

The function report saddened me as well, making me feel like I'm worthless. The wording of the questions was rather harsh, asking, so-what-DO-you-do-all-day kinds of questions. And it really hurt my heart to think of what I cannot do, and what my mother, who is twice my age, has to do for me most of the time. A simple task like laundry is virtually impossible at this time.

And I can't believe that I will be like this forever, I just can't.

I want to be a better me, and I am so frustrated at what I can't do anymore, and I haven't figured out how to cope with being the me that I am at this point. Everything I can think to do I can't seem to make happen. I don't know how else to be. I need to help myself, indeed, but the things I know I can do don't seem to be enough to get anywhere.

I SO don't want to wallow like I was doing last month. Oh, I don't! But my frustration is so great that I just feel like if I don't get it off of my chest I will sink even deeper into depression.

I don't want to stress out Pablo either, and don't want him to feel burdened by me or my struggles. He gets so sad when I tell him what's going on, and I know he wants to know, and cares what's going on, but I know there are so many things in his life that he has to deal with, and I hate the thought that I would be a source of pain in his life. He is always trying to think of ways to help me. I wish I could help him.

And my mom, God bless my mom, I don't know what I'd do without her. She takes care of me and so many things that I can't. It's so not fair that she has me to deal with. And I feel guilty, too, because I'm afraid that I won't get better, that I will never find a mate to spend the rest of my life with...I feel so selfish for wanting a husband when she has no one. I don't want to feel this way. I wish she would at least find somebody to love her like she deserves.

My father in no way treated her like she needed or should have been treated. He only hit her once in front of me, sending her sailing across the camping trailer with a thud. I will NEVER forget that as long as I live. I can still hear the sound her body made hitting against the cupboard, can still see her in my mind's eye sitting on the floor like a rag doll. Oh, God, I beg you, please send her the man of her dreams, she's waited a lifetime for him!!!

Anyway, all of this together combined with the report I just finished on symptoms...I surely feel sad at the loss of my former self. But you know, in the back of my mind I know there's hope. I know that there are things I am preparing for, or more accurately, that God is preparing me for. I have always defined myself by what I've done, or answered to where I worked as to what I was up to. I don't know how to answer right now. Nothing's making much sense, and I'm trying not to panic.

This, too, shall pass, I know that. I'm surrounded by amazing people in my life who remind me daily how lucky I am. I just want to be a blessing. I'm hoping that I can find something to bless others with that I can do without a hitch. I haven't blogged at all like I planned. Life has gotten in the way a few times and tripped me up. I guess I expect perfect, and then when I screw up, I give up. But I don't want to give up this blog, and maybe I just set too high of expectations. I intended to write daily. I find I'm too tired most days to do it. But, like I did tonight, I need to push myself and do it anyway, but then make sure I don't push myself too far. It's difficult to come back from too far. I've already spent a whole hour more than I intended...time seems to fly by so quickly.

Anyway, I'm glad that is over with, and I know that this melancholy will subside. I hope in the meantime I can come up with something that will help me cope better and take some of the pressure off of me and those I love.

:) Jan

Let's Talk About Sex

All right, I've been pondering this post for awhile, but wasn't sure quite how to go about it.

So, no guts, no glory...no embarrassment??? Well, here goes.

I have had issues with sex all of my life. As I mentioned, I was molested as a child. Add to that I was brought up in an ultra-strict church that made sex sound dirty. Add to that I had an emotionally distant and verbally abusive father who did not give me the kind of love and attention for which I craved. Add to that I developed rapidly, and especially with large breasts. I have almost always been overweight--except that I was quite skinny before the molestation incidents and up to starting kindergarten and all of the stress of the anxiety disorder--and have had a very low self-esteem as a result. I have played the "tease" role. I was raped by my fiance. I have given myself away to men who didn't deserve it, but I hoped if I gave them what they wanted, they would give me what I needed. The cards were stacked against me very early for any sort of healthy sexuality, and my own behavior has compounded it throughout the years. Sex has been a very scary thing for me, and a place I've never felt I could be completely vulnerable as I have never been able to trust, for obvious reasons. I'm trying to let all of that go.

The molestations: I was molested 4 times by a variety of people that I should have been able to trust. I'm not sure about the ages, but I believe the first time was at age 3 and probably the last time at age 5 or 6. Every location was different, every situation different, every requirement different, and not all of those involved were men. I often wonder if any of them remember doing it. I do, I sure do. I vividly remember every detail. And I've been working very hard to forgive them so that I can move on and not let it ruin my life anymore.

(When I looked at this post on the page I had to come back here and add that the picture on the left shows me before any of these events happened, but one happened in that chair, right where it sat, beside the kitchen door leading into the living room. I live in the same house today, and though it doesn't look quite the same, I see that spot, and think about it every day. I plan to come back to this topic soon.)

I'm thankful that they were not chronic abuses, but separate incidents. I can't imagine what it would have been like if the person(s) continued to violate me. I thank God that I didn't have to suffer that abuse. All things work for good....

Anyway, I did tell my father about the first incident and he nearly killed the guy. So, it wasn't like I didn't know I couldn't tell anyone. I just learned that the retaliation from that person was unpleasant to say the least. I also felt guilty. Even at that young age I felt like I had done something wrong in that it had happened at all. But, I only later told my mom that any of the others happened, and told her about one of them just within the last couple of years. I guess it's common for survivors of molestation to internalize everything. That has caused me a lot of heartache indeed.

I don't think it's any coincidence that I started to gain weight when I went to school. Not only was I battling nervous vomiting everyday that put me in a love-hate relationship with food and caused me to sneak food in the middle of the night, but it was also around the time I was starting to develop. I remember my father sitting down with my mother and me to say I needed to wear a training bra. That was pretty early on, and I am fairly sure around age 7. I was laughing the other day with a friend with whom I was in the second grade. That year we played BJ and the Bear, from the TV show, at recess out on the playground. Jeff played "BJ" and Brian played "Bear" (my best friend, Mandy, was Bear's sister, even though he didn't have one and that would have made her a monkey, but she had a crush on Brian--how cute is that?). I started out as just one of the many women BJ had around. But, at one point Jeff/BJ said I was to be "Stacks". The girl who had been playing Stacks complained as she had blond hair. Jeff said, "Well, she has the stacks." It was settled.

I think I was learning from all of these events that the only real attention I got from a man was of a sexual nature. All but one molestation occurred exclusively with men. Even at school, boys would pay attention to my developing body. I had such a low self-esteem from the interaction with my father, as well as from being overweight. I, too, think that the weight was a way to make myself undesirable. If I could insulate myself from men by being the fat girl, then maybe they wouldn't hurt me.

That turned when puberty started. I slimmed down some and liked that men would pay attention to me. I can look back on it and think it's because I felt love-starved from my father. But, when I added in the guilt feelings from the church teachings, I was somewhat scared at how I was feeling. I knew that according to the Bible it is wrong to have sex outside of marriage, there was never any doubt in my mind about that. But, some of the people who would do our summer camps were college students, and overcome with zeal to make sure we didn't do anything we shouldn't. I remember this one conversation between 2 college counselors that were speaking. They were talking about saving yourself for marriage and you know how people banter back and forth? Well, this girl finally said, "You shouldn't even kiss before you're married. If you do, you're not a virgin anymore." I was devastated listening to that conversation, I was ruined for sure and felt like I was to blame.

Even though I had a fear of sex, and a fear of making God angry, I wanted to feel wanted. I started playing a teasing game with men. I wanted to get their attention, but only to a point. I remember another summer at that same camp when I met Brian G. I was 12, and he was 18, and of course I didn't tell him how old I was. He had come to camp for the Thursday night camp fire, and somehow we hooked up. We sat together at the fire, and I leaned into him, and we held hands and he started caressing me, etc. Thankfully a counselor finally found us and broke it up, I don't know how far it would have gone. I didn't see him after that night, and frankly don't remember ever talking to him again, but think I might have...?

Later that summer, my mother woke me up really early one morning. "Who's Brian G.?"

"I have no idea, what time is it?"

"Who is Brian G.?"

"I don't know."

"You better figure it out because your father nearly beat him up last night at work."

"Oh, s^&*!"

Well...come to find out this guy had ended up working for my father at the power plant as a college student. Apparently they were all sitting around at dinner and he was telling them about this cute chick he met earlier that summer and even rattled off the telephone number--my telephone number--my dad's telephone number. I don't know exactly what happened, but suffice it to say Brian G. knew I was 12 and he was lucky to be alive. Thank God indeed I was born before the Internet or who knows, he might have Google Earth-ed me and showed up at my house! Oh, I was definitely put in the right place and time!

I never felt beautiful, never thought I was pretty, and my father or brother never helped me in that area, not that I think many male family members really fawn over their female family members and let them know they're beautiful. But, their comments tended to be about how I was ugly and overweight. Anytime that a boy or man would make me feel the least bit pretty or desirable I was automatically obsessed with him and wanted to have him pay attention to me. It's a very dangerous thing when a girl looks for validation from a guy, because if the guy is of questionable character he will get what he can from her, and then discard her. That has happened to me more times than I can count. I'm working on being completely in love with myself so that I don't have to have someone else do it for me.

My parents should have kept closer reins on me, though, and I wish they had seen signs of my trouble with sexuality. Perhaps if you see your child do any of the following, you might check into the possibility of molestation:

- Changing clothes: When I was little I would change my clothes every couple of hours. My mother would catch me doing it, but I never had a good reason, I just wanted to have new clothes on.

- Obsession with clean underwear: To this day I don't go on a trip without 3 times the amount I need, and -- TMI -- find myself changing underwear several times a day. It's almost compulsive at this point.

- Caught with other children doing inappropriate things: I remember doing some things with several different children, and I wonder now if they were molested, too. We would do things like close doors and look at each other naked, play 'doctor', role play as different characters on TV. Our knowledge was way beyond a normal amount, and beyond normal curiosity. I know I acted out some of the things that were done to me.

- Provocative dressing: Especially when I was in grade school, I wanted to wear off-the-shoulder shirts, short skirts, sexy underwear and high heels. I also started wearing eyeshadow, which my mother bought me for Christmas, at age 9! My mom and I have talked about that since then, and she said she thought I was going through a phase. Especially when you consider how even more sexual our culture has become, you must be very careful in how your children, especially girls, are 'sexed up'. It's not just the latest fashion, it's dangerous!!!

- Preoccupation with how sex works: I remember I would ask my mother an inordinate amount of questions about sex and the human body, and would even draw different pictures. In grade school I would steal condoms from my parents and take them as a 'show and tell' of sorts at slumber parties.

- Books and TV (and Internet): I read the V.C. Andrews books like Petals on the Wind and romance books. Watch what your kids check out from the library, and watch what you have on the TV. My dad loved "Solid Gold" and those dancers were nearly naked. He also had sex 'letter' magazines hidden in his underwear drawer which I read periodically. AND, please watch what your kids are doing on the Internet, what they're watching on YouTube. Never let your child have his/her computer in his/her bedroom, make sure it's in a public location in the house and that (s)he is always monitored. I have seen too many boys and girls in the library doing things and talking about things they've done that I've never even thought of as an adult.

If you have any questions, please let me know. You can email me outside of this blog at vpljan@hotmail.com .

I want to help other people identify signs so that if something has happened they can make sure it stops, and make sure the child gets the proper counseling. Now that it's been 32 years living like this, it's hard to change the way I am as a result of the molestations and all that happened after. I wish that it would never happen to another child again, but if it does, I pray that I can help them and you get through it. Don't ignore or deny anything. Which is worse, checking out something to make sure it hasn't happened, or living with the knowledge that you could have done something and didn't?

I think I will stop here instead of going on with the other things that have happened to me sexually and have gotten me where I am. It is important to really understand what molestation can do to a child, and how it builds and shapes who they become in so many ways. Don't smother your kids, but always keep an open dialogue with them so that they feel comfortable telling you everything. Run through their days with them, ask them who they were with, what they did, start as early as possible getting them to chatter on. Also, in talking to my counselor, she said that young kids have a hard time telling you what happened, but they can act out the entire thing, down to what was said, with puppets. Try it. Anything it takes to make sure your kids tell you what's going on is worth it.

I'm SO thankful that God protected me in so many situations. I'm sure some could say, "How can you believe in a 'loving' God if He would let something like this happen?" Well, God doesn't make things happen, He allows things to happen, and He has a plan. I want to help people, and maybe the way I can really help is by helping children and families who are victims of molestation, I don't know. I do know, however, that if I hadn't gone through it, I wouldn't have the perspective that I do.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Maybe advocacy is my purpose, His purpose. I don't know the plan, but I'm willing and He's able.

God bless. :) Jan

Woo Hoo! I Lost 4.3 lbs.!!!

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!

I must say I'm very proud of me. Yes, I messed up here and there, no, I didn't stick to the rules exactly, but I did the best I could and got results!!!

Yes, I ate at Applebee's for lunch and I just celebrated with pizza and a sugar cookie, but I Pointed them out, so there. Thankfully the menu has Weight Watchers Points on some foods and the pizza is in my little WW book.

And hey, I'm so proud of Eve, too! She lost 3 lbs. this week and she lost 4+ last week. Wow. She's lost 41 pounds total. I'm so glad to have her as my WW buddy! I know I must be accountable and I need encouragement.

I'm, of course, leery of celebrating too hard. I know me, I know my past with food and addiction. I know what evil lurks inside me when it comes to my food obsession. It truly is an obsession, too. I hate it, but there you have it, I have a food obsession and addiction.

If there is food that is left over from a meal, I obsess about it. If there is one piece of pizza left, I will obsess about it until someone has eaten it, or I eat it myself. It cannot exist, someone has to eat it. And don't even think about leaving the melted cheese stuck to the box! If there's something special, like party foods, dips, cookies, whatever, if it's something I don't usually eat, I obsess about it. I need to eat all I can. What, like I won't ever get it again? Just in case it's my last chip with dip on earth I need to chow down on all of it? What if they stop making it??? I wish I could tell you that I have some rational thoughts while I'm doing it, but I don't. I simply am driven to do it.

All addictions are the same. Does an alcoholic think about the actual consequences to their drinking while they're searching for their next drink? No, they have one thing on their mind, getting that alcohol. It's the same with sex addictions. They are not thinking about anything but having sex or getting their porn. They are driven to fulfill their need for sex. I am driven to eat. We're all the same, all addicts are the same. We're trying to fill a hole inside of us with something that makes us feel good.

I think my addiction is pretty lame. Of all things on this earth that I could be addicted to, food? That's so weak. Only a weak, pathetic person would be addicted to food. I think all addicts must think this way. But I do hate my addiction and think it shows how weak I am.

I know why I have it, though, so for that I am thankful. It's a long story, which I will probably elaborate on eventually, but, for as long as I can remember I have had panic attacks. My mom said she can remember me at about 9 months old gagging when she would take me somewhere new. Now, I was not diagnosed as having Social Anxiety Disorder until I was about 24, so I lived with "getting nervous" over two decades with no explanation as to what was really going on with me. New situations made me nervous and unfortunately I had enlarged tonsils, and whenever I got nervous I would gag, and often times vomit.

This made for a very unhappy life for me, as well as for my family. It seemed that everywhere we went I threw up. We went out to dinner, I ate, I threw up, my father got very angry with me and made me feel horrible about it. My mom and brother were annoyed because I made going out so difficult. I was miserable because I had no way of controlling it. As my brother once complained, "She ruins everything." That's exactly how I felt, too.

I threw up every morning before I got on the bus to go to school for the first several years. I threw up almost every day at lunch--kids would sometimes tease me that my spaghetti was worms or would open their mouth so I could see their partially chewed food, you know how rotten kids can be--but I threw up so much that they eventually made me eat alone in the classroom by myself. I remember doing that until about 3rd grade. I threw up throughout the day or week, depending on the situation. I felt so ashamed but I couldn't control it.

From all of this I learned two things: food is my enemy, food is my comfort.

I would get up in the middle of the night when I was little and I would eat. I can vividly remember what the refrigerator looked like at my height--I couldn't see past the 2nd shelf up. I would eat anything I could reach: raw hot dogs, cheese slices, baloney, and Parmesan cheese out of the palm of my hand. Once I was satisfied, I would go back to bed.

Nobody ever knew I did it. I told my mother about it recently and she was shocked. She had no idea I did anything of the sort. It was my secret time. It was my time to control the food instead of it controlling me. It was a time when nobody was around so I could be completely relaxed and enjoy myself. So, in trying to control the food, it ended up controlling me.

I was a pretty skinny kid until I went to kindergarten. But once I got into that daily routine of vomiting and the shame and ostracism it caused, I turned to my nightly binges to somehow satisfy my craving for acceptance and love, and just to be normal.

I know it's been a roller coaster with food. When you take all of that into consideration, how I couldn't keep from throwing up, how I was belittled or cajoled because I got sick all the time, how I just wanted to be accepted, and then throw in the molestations and the simple fact that I just wanted my father's unconditional love, there's no doubt in my mind why I have always been driven to lose weight, then, when a man enters the picture.

It's such a tangled web, but bottom line, I see it. I see how I obsess about it. I can see the long and tumultuous relationship I've had with food. I can see how my relationships have affected me and how I view weight loss. It's truly incredible to me to think that something as basic as food can rule my life if I let it.

4.3 pounds, yee haa, that's a little bit of my life I just got back and I'm going to fight this week for even more!

:) Jan