Feeling So Alone

When I think of all the people that I know, those that I count as close friends, I don't think that any of them has gone through being molested at a very young age like I have. I feel so alone.

The past couple of days have been so intense. I'm feeling overwhelmed by my past, I feel like there's so much more underneath the surface that I need to get out.

I almost feel panicked about it. I don't like the feeling of wanting to run away and hide. I felt this way my whole life up until about age 25 when I was diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder. I don't feel that anxiety defines me, I just feel that the label defines how I feel sometimes, and how my body responds.

OK, let me rewind a bit. I have realized with the anxiety attack I had a couple of weeks ago that felt like a heart attack, when growing up I didn't have anxiety attacks, I had panic attacks. Anytime I faced a situation that scared me or whatever, I would have a panic attack: racing heart, sweating palms, desire to run away, spinning mind, physical illness, sometimes culminating in throwing up.

That IS what I'm feeling right now. Going through all of these old feelings, emotions, memories, hurts, are getting to me. I want to escape them. I don't know how to deal with them. I feel very anxious to the point of panic.

When I experienced the anxiety attack, I had just been through a very emotionally charged situation, but had calmed down and was starting to deal with what was going on. The feeling of my heart exploding took me by such surprise that I literally thought I was having a heart attack. I knew it wasn't a panic attack, because I had lived through almost a quarter century of those; this was different.

I don't know what to do next.

I need to talk to somebody. I had a counselor, but now my insurance requires a deductible to be paid in order to see anyone--and there's no way I can afford it, it's more than my utilities. I have been looking online for support groups and what have you, but I don't want to get into that cycle of people relating their stories and me getting even more depressed. So, I figured I'd at least write and get some of it out.

One of the things that's bothering me is two exercises that I went through last night. One of them is to mentally visualize things and then alter them. I have THE hardest time imagining things in my head. I have some sort of block that prevents me from getting a mental image of things. I can hear stuff just fine, I can recreate entire songs in my mind with all the instrumental parts and voices, but I can hardly get a simple picture to form in my mind.

Maybe this is normal, but it's really frustrating me. I enjoy the visual, I love rich and deep colors, enjoy the beauty, intricacy or simplicity of things. Why can't I do that in my mind's eye?

The weird thing is that some things from my past I can get a vivid snapshot of. I can 'see' them, but the weird thing is I can't do it in my mind, with my eyes closed. It's almost like I am projecting it out into space with my eyes open, watching it, rather describing it, but not seeing it.

You know, maybe I'm just overreacting here. But it just seems so odd to me, it frustrates me that I can't get pictures to be in my head where I want them to be. I guess that explains why I have such a hard time coming up with things that are original, but given other things can rework them into something else, I don't know?

Anyway, the other exercise was regressing to childhood situations.

Oh wait, this was really weird. When I was trying to do the visual thing I started thinking about the church I grew up in and how one of the Sunday school rooms looked. In my head I started singing some of the songs that we did during Jr. Church when I was about 10.

All the sudden, I got the mental picture of what happened to me when I was about 3, in front of the church. I tried to remember what happened beyond the image that has always stuck with me. I remembered some of the scene, but I can't remember what led up to it, and I can't remember what happened after. I'm still at the point I am thinking about it with a complete lack of emotion, just as scenes in a movie or something.

After I got that mental image, I tried to remember what happened to me at our family campsite with the teenagers. I can only remember a tiny bit of it, and mainly all I can remember is staring out the window and seeing our camper next door, with a couple of snips of the teens. What on earth did they do to me, or make me do to them? I have no idea.

I wonder if hypnosis would help? I wonder if I could even afford it?

You know what really is bothering me is the idea that there are people in this world who know what happened to me, but yet I have no idea. It makes me angry. I can't believe that they did these things to me, robbed me of my innocence, and that I'm still dealing with things after 30-some odd years.

I want to get past all this.

I'm tired of trying to keep this all pushed down. I'm tired of being embarrassed by it all. I'm tired of having holes in my life. I'm tired of feeling like I have no control. I'm tired of having the past affect my future.

I seriously want to escape right now. I think that's a good sign. I think that I'm getting close to breaking through this. The part of me that's tried to protect me from anything bad is trying to protect me again.

I feel so, well, pissed. I'm not sure that's right, maybe more sad than pissed, but yeah maybe. No, I think more like broken and weak. I feel like everybody else is stronger than I am, able to deal with crap like this, and I can't. Like anybody else on the planet would have already dealt with it and moved on. Like I'm making a bigger deal out of it than I should be.

Well, I've been going through cycles of that thinking in my head and I'm trying to just shut them down and ignore them, because if that would even be true, that I am weaker than anyone else or anything, well, it really doesn't matter does it? Is there anything I can do about it? All I can really do is try to fix what's broken inside me, not worry about anybody else, and then the rest will fall into place.

So, where does that leave me then?

I think I'm on the right track indeed. I think I have a lot of work still ahead of me, but I'm close. I think I need to find help somehow, somewhere. I know I'm blessed and that my childhood could have been so much worse. I can't change the past, I can only change the future. I think I need to cry.

Thanks for listening.

Be blessed!

- Jan

Eureka, I'm Codependent!

Well, I've discovered a book all about me: Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. I can tell it's going to make some sense out of the nonsense I've been calling life.

I have been beating myself up for not being the person I should be and trying to figure out why I haven't been able to overcome the things I keep doing over and over. (Interestingly enough, the fact that I just said 'should' is a codependent thing....)

Here're the first couple of things that made complete sense about what I have been doing my whole life that have not been working:

"A codependent person is one who has let another person's behavior affect him or her, and who is obsessed with controlling that person's behavior."

ding-ding-ding!!! I have and have had certain people in my life whose opinions I hold in such high regard that I obsess about what they think about me, and what they would think about whatever I'm doing at the time, etc.

"[Codependency] lies in...the ways we have let other people's behavior affect us and in the ways we try to affect them: the obsessing, the controlling, the obsessive 'helping,' caretaking, low self-worth bordering on self-hatred, self-repression, abundance of anger and guilt, peculiar dependency on peculiar people, attraction to and tolerance for the bizarre, other-centeredness that results in abandonment of self, communication problems, intimacy problems, and an ongoing whirlwind trip through the five-stage grief process."

Whew, wow, OK, sounds a bit familiar...yes even the peculiar and bizarre. It took me awhile to own the last part about grief, but when I got to thinking about how long I grieved for my dad, and how I would see someone who looked like him or dressed like him, saw a van that looked like his, it was like he died all over again or he was there affecting me with mental abuse, or numerous sorts of things. It doesn't happen very often anymore, but that grief thing, yeah, it's on track.

Ohmygosh, here's more:

"[Codependents] have worried themselves sick about other people. They have tried to help in ways that didn't help. They have said yes when they meant no. They have tried to make other people see things their way. They have bent over backward to avoid hurting people's feelings and, in so doing, have hurt themselves. They have been afraid to trust their feelings. They have believed lies and then felt betrayed. They have wanted to get even and punish others. They have felt so angry they wanted to kill. They have struggled for their rights while other people said they didn't have any. They have worn sackcloth because they didn't believe they deserved silk."

I could cry, truly, because for once I am seeing in print exactly how I have felt but could never explain to anyone why I felt that way. I have spent so long feeling so inadequate, so worthless. My entire life of reactions and decisions have been a mystery to me because I never understood why on earth I have done the things I've done, especially when once I'm called out to see what I'm doing, I can't tell you why I've done it or what led me to do it. I swear sometimes Pablo thinks I'm making things up or lying because my actions do not make sense to him. They don't make sense to me and I'm the one doing them, so what does one make of that? I didn't know before, but at least I have hope that if I don't come to understand why I've done something, at least maybe I won't do it anymore.

Oh gosh, here's a BIG one for me:

"Codependents are reactionaries. They overreact. They underreact. But rarely do they act. They react to the problems, pains, lives, and behaviors of others. They react to their own problems, pains, and behaviors. Many codependent reactions are reactions to stress and uncertainty of living...."

I'm so tired of not acting but only reacting. But I've been trying to figure out how I can cause myself to act instead of react, when that's how I've always done it. I'm hoping this book will show me the keys to unlocking these things inside me that have been hidden since, well, I don't know if I've ever used them before. Oh good, Chapter 6 we'll be getting into that!

I know that my codependency comes from the relationship with my father. He was so overwhelming in so many aspects. He was the center of the universe for our family. Whatever mood he was in dictated whatever mood we were in. And, of course, not necessarily for long, because he could change moods or something could set him off in the blink of an eye. (Love to deny I'm anything like that....)

We had to walk on eggshells. We had to do things his way because he said so. We never seemed to do anything right. We were stupid, worthless, couldn't think for ourselves.... I realize that somewhere in there I gave up on ever trying to be anything but wrong, and gave up on trying to figure out anything for myself because I was wrong, stopped planning to do anything because we would do whatever he wanted anyway, and just tried to stay out of the way and make sure he was kept in a good mood if possible. It was a lot of work, and I wasn't very successful at it. I longed to make him proud, to do something well, to do something right. I've sought out men's approval my entire life because of it.

I figure that's why I had panic attacks since I can remember. I got to the point that nothing I did was good enough and so I panicked if I had to do anything short of follow directions--which I resented and have resented having to do because I know I have a brain, and when I'm not overanalyzing everything I think the darn thing works pretty well. But I've become so consumed with not doing something wrong, and about what people will think about me and what I have done that I'm afraid to do, say, or think anything that might be 'wrong'.

I spend so much time in overwhelming anxiety over what could be that I don't get anything accomplished. Pablo gets mad at me because my fear of screwing up or looking stupid keeps me from doing anything. I surely don't like it myself and would love to stop doing it. I simply haven't figured out what it takes to flip the switch over yet. Sometimes I wonder how long it will take for me to get it, and who will be left in my life by the time I do?

Oh my goodness, there's a list several pages long of characteristics of codependents that I've gone through now, and let me tell you, out of 233 (if I counted correctly) possible characteristics of codependency, I DON'T think I have problem with 6 of them.... Here's what they are:

1.) Equate love with pain.

I must say that any 'love' relationship I have been in has been filled with pain, but I know that a truly loving and honest relationship may have painful times, but not as a result of one or both of the people inflicting pain on the other person intentionally.

2.) Think God has abandoned them.
3.) Lose faith and trust in God.

Neither of those are accurate. I know that without God I am completely lost and if anything I know that it's only through His grace that He sticks with me and I am blessed because of it!

4.) Wonder if they'll ever not be angry.

I don't feel that I am angry a lot, but rather not happy. Pablo has to call me out on how negative I talk and how easily I see what sucks than what's extraordinary. I want to change that for sure.

I was thinking about it, and it's not that I start out the day happy and then as things happen throughout the day, get worse and worse. I start out unhappy and things get worse throughout the day. I've tried to remind myself to get happy, with notes here and there, writing it on my hand the night before. Should you really have to remind yourself to be happy? Does that mean I am just an unhappy person with no prospects of ever being happy, that in my core I am rotten?

No, I don't believe that. I know that I need to stick closer to God and then His light will shine.

5.) Be extremely responsible.

Oh, I wish that were true but I've tried to quit lying even if it's a little white lie or if it's only lying to myself, so I know I can't mark THAT one.

6.) Become addicted to alcohol or other drugs.

I'm SO glad that I haven't done that!!! I know with all of the meds I've taken that I could abuse prescription pills if I wanted to, but I've never in the least bit been interested in that. I've never been into illegal drugs either, though I've wondered what Ecstasy or LSD feels like, though maybe everyone has wondered that, and like Bill Clinton, I tried to inhale, but just couldn't....

They should have added a few things to that list besides those chemicals: FOOD? Now that's something I KNOW I'm addicted to. I fell off the wagon last night and today as a result of some very emotional situations. I sometimes wish it was a chemical I am addicted to--you can live without alcohol or drugs, but you cannot live without food. It sucks. It's my comfort, my entertainment, my friend, my enemy! The book does say it later, though: "Many people with eating disorders are codependents."

I don't know what to expect out of reading this book. I'm definitely hopeful, but a bit trepidatious. I guess only time and action will tell--hopefully not time waiting for something to happen and not reaction.... I've spent too much of my life already trying to get over the past doing the same crap.

As the quotation that is commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin or Albert Einstein states:

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

I surely don't want to be insane, and I'm tired of things turning out like crap. Let's try something new, even if I fail, at least it's DIFFERENT! I want to be codependent no more, I want to stand on my own (with GOD!) and act like an adult, act 'normal,' not be buggered about what everybody might think about what I'm saying or doing. I just want to be ME. Oh, that sounds good indeed!

Be blessed!

:) Jan

My Heart is Breaking

My day has been filled with pain.

Physical-

Emotional-

Spiritual-

I want to disappear, I want it all to be over with. Jesus, please come soon.

But I'm not ready!

I know I'm not doing what I should be doing. I need to be working for God, I need to be reaching people for Him! I am failing Him, I am useless.

But I want it to be over with. I am so tired of this life. I am so tired of all of the things I am dealing with. I am tired of what the stress does to my body and to my mind.

I think I am crazy. And I mean seriously crazy. I think I should be in the psych ward. I am so depressed, and then my mind races, and then I cry and cry and cry, and then I go fifty miles an hour. I can't take it. I seriously think I may be bipolar--duh, do you think? At least I'm not schizophrenic, I'm sure about that one.

I hate myself right now. Every negative thing I have ever heard keeps running through my mind and I can't disagree. I feel weak, cowardly, useless, empty, exhausted, afraid, insane, I hate myself with a loathing that is undeniable.

Am I too selfish, self-absorbed, too pathetic to deal with the fibro and life at the same time? The pain is so great and has about eaten me alive the last few days, but the depression, despair, anxiety, panic attacks have controlled me.

I am lost and spinning out of control.

I need help. I need help but then I am afraid that I really am crazy, but then if I don't get help and I am crazy I will stay here. I don't want to be this way.

I'm scaring myself now. My mind is rushing around, and I'm in pain, but I don't want to stop talking because I feel like I have to get it out, have to purge my soul from all of the poison that is inside me. Am I just being too weak and pathetic?

It's not like I'm dying of cancer, or just lost my baby, or have lost everything. I know that. I'm just in pain that no one can explain, I'm depressed, exhausted, sick, without a job, without help and facing debt that's overwhelming. I'm a burden on everyone, and I don't have the strength to do much about it. I'm useless.

My mind won't let it go. I am stuck in the churning place, where my mind and heart swish as if going down a drain.

I'm afraid.

I need to reach out to God, He has the answers, but why is that so hard? I'm failing, indeed, failing, pulling away, falling down into a hole and I don't feel like there's a way out.

I'm supposed to stop and get in the 'now'. But now is so scary, I can't seem to slow down and then when I do all I can do is sob.

I'm tired of this craziness. If I was crazier I'd end it now.

But the fear of waking up in hell keeps me from it. I don't know if that's what would happen, but to spend eternity without my Savior is more unbearable. I can't find that in the Bible, but then I'm afraid to find out for sure because then I would have no reason to keep me from it.

I want out.

I need to trust Him, I need to reach down into my soul that faith that He has given me. He does not make mistakes. I'm here for a reason. Right now I feel like the world would be better off without me in it, but I won't do it.

I can see it in my mind. I can feel the sensation of doing it. It torments me but I won't give into it. My God is greater than any problem I have.

My God is greater than my pain.

I will praise Him in this storm. He sustains me. I am falling into His arms right now. I have to go, I will go rest.

Jesus take the wheel...save me from this road I'm on. I'm letting go.

Talking to God

I need to talk to God more. That is such an understatement!!!

Who else could I talk to that understands every pain and every situation in my life? Who has suffered more, done more, seen more, said more? Who else could I turn to that would actually want to hear every last thing I have to say?

Why is it that He's the last one I seem to turn to?

I have to admit I wish I was one of those people who could say, "You know, God told me this," or maybe, "You know, I know God wants me to that...." I know quite a few people that say this, and for awhile I was quite upset with God because I didn't 'hear' Him.

"God, why don't I hear You?"

He must laugh at us, shake His head at us, marvel at our denseness. I know He definitely must have quite a show when watching me! I can imagine Him sitting up in Heaven, and there's something about to be revealed to one of us and He elbows Michael and says, "Watch this, you're going to love this!" I bet He enjoys watching those moments.

But you know, I realized that God 'talks' to me through books and TV. That probably sounds dumb, but I believe it. Every time I need to hear something, I hear it from one of those sources. It never ceases to amaze me how I always hear what I need to hear. Whether it comes from Joyce Meyer, David Jeremiah, heck Dr. Phil, I always hear whatever I need to hear when I need to hear it. It surely makes me realize that in a world full of so many people and so much to tend to, God still remembers me and that makes me special! Hard to even wrap my brain around, but it's true!

I battle so much with feeling like I don't count, I don't matter, I don't make a difference in this world, I'm not important, I'm not special. I know that it stems from how my father treated me and how I saw myself through his eyes. The incredible lack of self-esteem I have and have had my entire life often fuels my depression. The last several weeks have found me wallowing in depression and self pity. I would probably still be there if Pablo hadn't gotten fed up with my doom and called me out on it. Truly, everything was...suck. This sucks, that sucks, everybody sucks, everything sucks, life sucks, I suck.... He had finally had enough and said pretty much hey, get a grip, you have lots to be thankful for, don't get bitter.

I surely felt bitter. I had to head back to WVU to see the same doctor who had put me on that Tramadol and whose office had never even called me back about it. Why? Because my PCP's office said they really didn't want to deal with it, and really didn't even have time to make the appointment! But I've raved about the medical establishment enough, so I'm not giving that any more time. Suffice it to say that I'd had enough medical crap and thought it sucked....

Anyway, all sorts of things were happening around me, and I was letting them pile on top of me instead of dealing with them as I could and looking to God for strength. I actually had three panic attacks last week, and I haven't had those in years! The enemy definitely had me where he wanted me--helpless from being petrified and completely without hope. The devil is not an idiot. He's so good at his job, he knows us so well, way better than we know ourselves. And unfortunately I let him win the last couple of weeks. Well, praise God above He had Pablo smack me in the head, and then sent Joyce Meyer and David Jeremiah to remind me how God works to help us get back from where we've been.

And I hated where I was--no one wants to be miserable and make the people around them miserable. I had just gotten so low that I was below the horizon and ready to about give myself up to misery. Uff, that's not fun, not a fun place to be, not a fun place to stay, and I don't know when you get that low if you have any strength to pull yourself out of it. I truly think that it takes someone else to say, "All right, that's enough, you have to come back to the light." I don't think I had that strength, and unfortunately the only other person I was really talking to besides Pablo was in the same boat I was in. Hard to keep yourself from drowning when another person is drowning beside of you and you keep grabbing onto each other. There's no help in that situation!

I truly want to help others battle these and other struggles. Whether the battle is depression, addiction--which by the way I lost another 1.4 pounds but I think I gained it all back plus more today. I had a day where all I wanted to do was eat. Luckily I don't have a lot of food around now that I can just scarf--gosh I wanted chocolate badly!!! But believe me, I did enough damage with high fiber bread and butter.... But the battle over these kinds of pressures is a difficult one, and one I know we can't handle alone.

I have been a solitary person most of my life. Since I was little--I think in part due to the molestations--I have kept things to myself or tried to figure out how to deal with them on my own. Pablo is the first person I ever really showed my real self to. And boy, it hasn't always been a pretty picture, that's for sure! But, I know what it's like to try to keep all the secrets, all of the battles, everything negative to oneself, and I know the outcome is never good. Even though I thought I was keeping the 'bad stuff' from Pablo over the last several weeks, I showed him the 'bad stuff' that was festering inside of me because of keeping it all in. We need to share our burdens, there's no shame in that, it's what makes us human--and that's not a bad thing!

An old friend wrote to me and said she's read some of my entries and always thought I was happy-go-lucky, and that she never had any idea what was really going on in my life. She was so right, as I did everything I could to make sure people wanted to be around me by being funny or seeming happy. In talking to my counselor I have come to realize that I have 'made' different masks to wear in dealing with people, all stemming from my interactions with my dad, mainly. I have an Entertainer mask that I wear a lot. Of course, the Happy Fat Girl is a pretty common image in the entertainment industry, and why is that? Because we're pretty common. Most of the women I know who have significant weight issues play the Happy Fat Girl role. It makes us pleasing to people who we do not want to consider us unacceptable, and as unacceptable as we feel to ourselves. If we can make someone happy, then maybe they can make us happy, too. Boy, I have a lot more to say about that when it comes to men, but I'll deal with that in another post sometime.

That happy mask is one that I had fairly well glued to my face until I met Pablo. I think he peeled it off...I surely didn't want him to see the real me. I'm so thankful that he did it, but it has been a painful process to try to heal what's underneath. And let me tell you, I'm not anywhere near ready to drop it! I don't know what I really look like underneath. It's weird to think I'm 35 years old and don't really know who I am. I know who I've tried to be, who I've pretended to be, but to let my mask down and just be me? I don't know who I really am, and I don't know how to drop the mask yet. More counseling needed....

Well, I don't know how I ended up here when I was talking about praying to God, but, I guess I needed to go through all of that. When I bring it all around it simply means one thing: I need to pray to God. Over the last couple of weeks I have been beating myself up for not changing, not being a better person, not thinking correctly, not having a good attitude. I was wondering what was wrong with me that I couldn't change. Well, Joyce Meyer was talking about change, and about how we try to change ourselves and others. She said only God can change people, we can't. What we can do, and should do, is do what we can do and pray for God to do those things we simply can't. Well, that was so good to hear because I keep trying to change myself and beat myself up because I don't change. I've been struggling so much with the battle and the worry that I won't ever change. What I haven't been doing is praying to God to change what I can't.

I pray all day long, whenever something comes to mind, but I haven't been very focused in my prayers. I know I need to talk to God and really be honest, and then He will change me in His time according to what I need, not what I think I need. I always beat myself up, too, wondering why I can't keep my mind focused on God and what I know I should do, but then, didn't the Apostle Paul wonder at why he seemed to be able to do the things he didn't want to do, but the things he knew he should do he didn't do? I know I often forget that even the heroes of the Bible were failures in living the life God calls us to. But none of us are perfect, and never will be. I don't know why I think I am the only one who should be and fails at it.

Anyway, bottom line is, I'm thankful for the life I have and I don't want to return to the self pity and depression mode I was in. I have so much that I don't deserve praise God, but then I have so much I need to give that I'm not doing, Lord please help me! I want to serve God but need to quit getting in the way of myself. I need to ask God for help, and ask others for help, because no one on this earth can do everything by themselves. And, if I truly want to change, then I need to seek God's help through prayer, and simply do that which I know to do.

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