There's So Much Broken It Gets Overwhelming

So in reading Codependent No More I realized that I need to go deeper, go back further, if I'm going to have any hope of behaving differently.

I'm really screwed up.

A long time ago I picked up a book at a used book sale on a whim called Adult Children of Abusive Parents. I've had it for several years and have just overlooked it on the shelf amongst piles of others. Well, about a week ago I realized I needed to really deal with my childhood. No amount of trying to think differently can do me any good at this point because I've not known exactly why I think what I think. So how can one change what they think if they don't know what triggers it?

So anyway, I remembered the book I got so long ago and thought that maybe it could shed some light on some things for me. So far, so good. It relates a lot of stories of people who grew up in abusive families; the stories have reminded me of some of the things that went on when I was a kid. I can see a bit more why I might have some of the thoughts go through my mind that others don't.

The latest chapters have echoed back to my last therapist's talk of my Child Self. The book has exercises to do for a month in order to help heal that child. I have to say, speaking it out feels weird, though it makes complete sense to me. The behaviors that serve me the least as an adult are the most childish ones, that don't make sense to me as I'm doing them, but if seen from the point that as a child I didn't learn how to act or feel appropriately, I can understand where I'm coming from now.

The exercises require two to ten minutes twice a day of closing my eyes to "be aware," "hear," "feel," "imagine," and one of looking and "seeing". The first ones felt really strange, the next set felt rather good, the next ones I've just not been wanting to do. I've been resisting it. I've felt foolish doing them.

I feel ridiculous, to be honest. I am 35, I shouldn't have to be doing any of this stuff. I should be a complete adult that acts like one at all times, responds like one at all times, not someone who breaks out in tears or rage as a little girl would. It's so frustrating. But, at least the book has shown me that I'm not the only one in this world who acts this way, who never understood why they feel this way, who has frustrated the crap out of those around her....

I don't know. I feel like a freaking drama queen. I feel like all I do on here is get to the point of whining, wailing, sighing, crying, complaining. But I think I really am trying to just find the process that takes me to the woman I know that I can be, that's trapped inside the shell of the child that never got to grow up the 'right' way. Am I just whining?

Well I know I'm not even doing the exercises from the book like I'm supposed to be. I keep trying to avoid them. I think part of it is that I don't want to believe I'm screwed up. I don't know how this could even enter my mind when I consider all the piles of relationships, etc., that lay behind me on the path of my life. I know part of it is a fear of failure--afraid that I am wasting my time on yet another book or idea that won't work. Am I afraid it will work? I've been mulling over that one a bit and I can't imagine it, but it gnaws at me, so there must be something to it. Am I afraid that once I find the real me, I won't like her?

Tonight I saw a show on TLC called "The 650 lb. Virgin" about David, who has lost the weight (without surgery!) and now is just starting to date. I was truly inspired by his story and courage. I can't imagine what it was like to weigh that much. I know what 305 felt like and I know that it's a sickening feeling, a lonely feeling.

David said that he started gaining weight around age 6-7 and that relationship with food grew and ended up keeping him secluded from other people. He literally watched the world go by from his window. Listening to his story I wondered, "Did something sexual happen to him that started him on the path, the same as me?"

Yes, it did.

David revealed later to his trainer turned best friend, Chris, that he had been sexually molested twice as a child at age 6, and that that had started him on the journey with the food addiction. It made perfect sense to me, and his revelation only underscored for me how I got to this place, how I ended up getting to this point. Not only the sexual abuse, but the mental abuse, and the lifetime of anxiety and panic attacks pushed me down and deeper into feeling I was totally worthless, and as I've been examining it, has been driving me to kill myself, albeit, slowly, but indeed surely.

Yes, I've outright attempted suicide, but I've been trying to kill myself with food as long as I can remember being able to attempt it, haven't I? I've been diabetic for 9 years, and spent many as a shattered, non-stable diabetic. I'm still not as good with it as I should be. I need to try harder--I want to try harder--and it's through finding the core issues that make me act, think, react in the ways that I do that I need to find. My life depends on it.

A friend of mine has made fun of me in essence for just reading and not applying. I was almost deterred from continuing to read the above books. I took a break thinking, maybe I am just trying one thing after another instead of buckling down and just doing it Nike-style. But I've been trying to just do it myself and I can't, obviously, 'cause I've not been able to do anything but fail, disappoint myself and others, and get discouraged.

So, I might not be in the right lane, but I know I'm on the right road to finding me. I know I have to keep going. I need to find the answer to changing how I am as a result of what was done to or for me. I AM taking responsibility for my life by doing this. Maybe it's not overt ACTION, but I can't act yet, I don't know how to. I'm still a kid, I have to grow up, I have to find someone who can mold me into the adult I should be by now.

I hope--no I KNOW--there are others out there that understand what it's like to be a giant kid and not know why or how to stop being one. I hope that maybe one of you will someday stumble onto my story and see how I've accomplished what you want to accomplish, too. Like Randy Pausch said, it's hard getting over that wall, but it's helpful to others to let them know how you did it. I'll let you know, I know I'll do it somehow.

Be blessed!

:) 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

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

I Think I'm Back to "Normal"

Well, it's been a long road from Tramadol to back again, and I am SO glad to be back to where I was before this whole mess. Ironic, I say, as before this I wasn't sure how worse it could be. Well, the laugh was on me, indeed, though I was not laughing. And you know, the doctors have never called me back.

So, anyway, with that madness behind me it's onward and upward! I feel like I lost about a week and a half there. But I feel like I am renewed and ready to fight some more.

You may be wondering, "So, did you lose any weight, then?" Nope, I actually gained 1.8 pounds back. But you know what? That's OK. It was a tough week, and considering everything I think it went pretty well. I need to re-center myself, though, and refocus my mind on that task. WW is an easy program to follow--I can add and subtract for the most part. The hard part is retraining my mind and how it reacts to stimuli that send me to food in the first place.

I saw my counselor for the first time in weeks yesterday, and that was goooooooood. I don't think we really "got anywhere" but I feel like I'm back on the road to getting things straightened out and purged from inside. My counselor has fibromyalgia, so she can quite commiserate on what it's like in every aspect. It's nice to be believed instead of found suspect or tolerated. I'm tired of feeling that way from so many people, whether they be from the medical field or from everyday life. I know that this disease is real. Why it happens, well, that could be from the mind, I don't know, but let me tell you, as I sat up most of last night in pain and unable to get to sleep because of it, I KNOW that it is REAL. I pray you never understand what that is like.

But, in that pain I was able to study more about my Savior. God is amazing. I knew that. I know that, but gosh, it's good to be reminded of exactly HOW good He is! I started reading The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel Sunday night. I could barely stand to put it down. I was captivated! It was so intriguing to me how he went through every plausible argument against the existence of Christ as God, and how in every case he found that history actually supported the claims the Bible makes about Him.

Strobel is a well-known Chicago journalist and atheist. He set out to determine that Jesus is not who the Bible says He is. He interviewed 13 scholars as to the veracity of the claims that Jesus is indeed the Messiah of the Jewish Bible, or Old Testament, and the Savior of the New Testament. In mainstream media and entertainment realms the Bible is treated with contempt or as a nice story. We get the impression that there are no real scholars that are basing the reality of the Bible on true facts. This is far from the case. There are many places in historical records that concur with the Bible testimony of the Apostles.

YOU HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK!!!

I can't tell you what it was like for me to read especially the "CSI-type" account of the torture of Jesus. If anyone can deny Christ's love for us after reading that, so help them God! It changed me forever, and I didn't think anything after the "Passion of the Christ" could do that. I'm planning to get into The Case for the Creator ASAP.

I'm sorry to have to cut this post short today. I have many things I could say about the book, about the Book, and about my God! I'm loving to study about Him. I'm excited to learn more. I want to have as many arrows in my quiver as possible as I head into battle. I hope that people realize how close we are. I hope people realize that the time is coming that we will have to choose whether to pronounce or denounce Christ in our lives. It's no legend, people, the time is near. Please be ready!

:) 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

The Obsession of Appearance

I've been watching a makeover show and have been thinking about how crazy the world is over appearances.

I have a horrible self-image and really despise myself for how I look. I have always fought feeling incredibly ugly and disgusting because of my weight. I have so many deep-seeded personal issues over how I look, and really how I feel that others see me.

I truly wish I didn't put so much stock into how others view me, whether it be in terms of how I look or my personality. I guess it comes from my childhood, and in particular how my father treated me and how he made fun of me or lashed out when he was angry. I have recently started seeing a counselor in an effort to be free of so many issues that are holding me back from just being completely myself. I know that a lot of the reactions I have towards people or situations are a result of how my father treated me. He has been gone over 6 years now, but it has truly only been in the last year that I have begun to get over how much stock I put into what he thought of me. Even dead, he controlled how I dealt with life.

Again, I owe seeing these things to my best friend, Pablo. He is the only person who ever really called me out on things and made me see the truth. I'm sure other people may have thought about it, but nobody else said anything but him. Our relationship is truly special. I know I drive him crazy, and sometimes he really hurts me, but I believe that both of us are growing and trying to help each other become better people and to have a better relationship.

Anyway, my dad always made me feel that I was never good enough, never was smart enough, never could come up with whatever it was that he was looking for. I can say that through the years I based every other relationship I've had on the principals I learned from him: be what people want you to be; try to be invisible as much as possible; entertain in order to keep others happy and avoid making them angry at or disappointed in you; wait for people to tell you what to do--you won't do it right if you try to do it on your own and your ideas aren't really worth anything anyway; anytime you get into a situation in which someone is angry, just hunker down and take the abuse until they're through and then try to fix whatever's broken. There are many more things, but these are the most common ones that rear their ugly heads and make my relationships so difficult.

So with all of these thoughts in my head, with being overweight which my father and others ridiculed me for so much and made me feel ugly, with not having many relationships in my life with men, and with down-right feeling that I look ugly in almost every way--add to these that the world is so obsessed with beauty and that I in every way am opposite of the definition of beautiful--I doubt that I will ever think anything different. It truly makes my heart hurt. I want to feel beautiful, I want to feel wanted, I want to feel sexy and desirable, but I don't know how that could possibly ever happen.

I am trying to accept myself, though, and to try to make my heart beautiful. I'm hoping that it will be enough to be beautiful on the inside. I believe that it's possible, for a woman to be so beautiful on the inside that a man loves her for that. But, gosh, what hurts is that, even if that happened for me, he would still think I'm ugly. So, I guess even if it sounds selfish, I just want someone to think I'm beautiful. I'm afraid that makes me shallow.

But then, I just remembered a little boy that came up to me once at church and said, "You are so beautiful!" Oh, that made my heart soar! So, I guess, somebody has at least once thought I was beautiful, so that's good. I don't think I'll ever forget that day, and I know he meant it. I thank God He sent him to say it! Someday I hope I see that little guy again so I can thank him for his beautiful heart! But I just wish a man would say it to me and mean it, really mean it, you know?

One of the most hurtful things that people say to me--and I don't think that they even consider how it sounds--but they say, "You would be so pretty if you lost weight." Hmm, ok, well, thanks I guess. So, if I would be pretty if I lost weight, and right now I'm fat, then that means right now I'm ugly. Thank you for only deepening my self-loathing. If I didn't already think I was ugly, you surely sealed the deal. Thanks, I needed that!

I wish that this world was not driven by looks. I wish that what I look like didn't matter. I wish that how I look didn't completely shock and disgust me. I wish, I wish, I wish, but here I am. So, I am going to work on loving myself as I am, where I am, how I am, and pray that God will help me to truly see that I am beautiful in every way.

:) Jan

The Return of Weight Watchers

I am fat and I am tired of it. And, I have decided that I will lose weight now.

I am publishing on the WWW for the entire planet to have access, my weight as of yesterday: 274.1 pounds. That number is surreal to me, but it is not the most I have ever weighed. My largest number was 305.6 pounds in January of 2007.

Disgusted? I am. Why did I get to this point? Many reasons and excuses I could give you. Being an insulin-dependent Type II diabetic makes it very difficult. Being on over 22 pills of medication a day makes it difficult. Being a food addict makes it difficult--and let me tell you, I have battled those issues since I was at least 3 and they are deeply ingrained in my actions. Having severe pain from fibromyalgia makes it difficult to want to exercise.

But bottom line, there is no reason I have gotten to this morbidly obese point greater than the fact that I have not used self-control to overcome it. Do I have reasons that losing weight is harder for me than most people? Yes. Just because it's harder, does that mean I should just give up then? Nope.

I can do this. But I need to focus and work at it. There is no room for half-way this time. I have lost weight before, I can do it again. But this time it's for the right reasons.

In the past I have lost weight in order to get a man. My greatest yearning is to be in love with the most wonderful man in the world, the one that I know God has prepared for me. I believe he is out there. But I have always made that my reason to lose weight. I have always felt that a man wouldn't or couldn't love me because I was too fat. I felt like that 100 pounds ago.

Anyway, in 1999 I got down to around 210, which I hadn't weighed in over 5 years. The reason was that I was 25 and decided that I needed a man, needed to be in a relationship, needed to be married. So I lost about 25 pounds and I felt really good. I was exercising, people were noticing. I went on the hunt.

I started going onto free online dating sites. I met some very...interesting...men. Some scary, some boring, some crazy, but that summer I found a man that would love me and so I married him after knowing him about 5 weeks. It was a complete disaster. We didn't know each other at all, he had so many issues from his past, I just wanted to be loved and didn't really love him. Bottom line, I can tell you the actual moment I knew I should just walk away from the situation but decided to marry him anyway.

Of course, I ended up gaining weight after we were married, much more than I had even lost. The more depressed I got, the more I ate, the more I weighed, the more depressed I became, the more I ate.... A vicious cycle. I was diagnosed as diabetic during this time. Looooooooong story short, we divorced in 2001, and me at the weight of about 250.

I have tried to lose weight for men my entire life. I did it in grade school. I remember I would either eat a hot roll or an ice cream bar for lunch, and hardly anything at home. I lost a lot of weight, and of course everybody said I looked great, but I can only imagine the damage I had done to my body, let alone the damage to my psyche. I was still unhappy, even though I was 'skinny'. Anytime a man took notice of me at all I would instantly start to diet and make sure he would know I was losing weight. What a terrible roller coaster it has been.

I am so blessed to see all of this. I spent so many years in denial, in excuses, whatever. Do I think it's going to be easy? No way. I have too many years of incorrect thinking and reacting to overcome for it to come easily. I know that this time. Before I just muddled through hoping I would have it lucky this time. I think I see things much more clearly this time and this will make the difference.

So, my very good friend Eve and I have been talking, and she is successfully doing Weight Watchers. I'm very proud of her. She has lost at least 35 pounds and is feeling better and interacting with her children better. I know she will definitely encourage, motivate and inspire me. I have done Weight Watchers twice before so I know I can do it. I understand the program and it's actually quite easy to follow. The hard part is being honest and real about it.

Today I made some chicken fajita-type stuff and measured out my different components to make sure I was portioning properly--man do we over-portion in this society! Anyway, while measuring out my cheese, one of my favorite foods on earth aside from Reese's peanut butter cups, I had the old urge to make it a 'heaping' 1/4 cup as I would have done in the past. But this time I caught myself and was like, "You are only hurting yourself if you do that and you will fail. If that is your choice, then go ahead and quit now." Believe me, that was a break-through.

I have only eaten once today, which is wrong. I have so many bad habits to change and I need to get on a better schedule. When I did my points for the meal, though, it ended up being almost as much as my minimum for the whole day! I know I need to make much better choices, and I am going to be held back by my lack of money to buy better quality foods, but I will have to work through it. Just because it's hard I can't give up.

That's what I have always done. Too hard? Didn't get the response I wanted? I quit.

Well, not this time. I think I'm getting to the point if I don't change this now I won't have much time left to change it ever. And for crying out loud, at 35 years old, no matter what's been done to me, no matter what has happened, I make the final decision. Well, this time I am deciding to do it. I'm going to screw up, that's certain, but at least I'm screwing it up trying instead of being too lazy or selfish and choosing to fail.

:) Jan