Coming clean…

Okay you guys..I haven’t blogged for a week. I think you all might guess where I have been. Under the wagon full of sweets, takeouts and vino. I fell hard and I was too ashamed to admit it.

Today is my birthday…and I am now tipsy on homemade cocktails. I have been asking myself this week what exactly is wrong with me that I would fall this way. Have you ever had one of those silent moments where all you can do is ask yourself ‘what are you going to do? what are you going to do?’ I haven’t had this since a year ago and it’s really scaring me.

My husband, my support, was gone this week and I fell apart. I didn’t know how fragile this journey was for me. How much support counts for everyone going through this. I felt like I was back in that space a year ago. Alone, lonely and only thinking about filling the void with food and alcohol. That, or just ending it all. I allowed myself to get carried away with food again. I ate with wild abandon. I have to be honest and truthful. I ate, I ate a ton!

I am sure I gained a few kilos in just this one week alone. I indulged in take outs, large pasta meals, huge portions, ice cream, desserts, well you name it! I had tons of wine..I mean every day I was having some. I even had 2 packs of ciggies! Yeah! after over a year or not smoking I had two packs in a week! I was wheezing and barely able to breathe but  it didn’t stop me from continuing to put the cancer sticks to my lips. I didn’t take any exercise besides compulsively cleaning my apartment the entire week.

There are so many issues I need to deal with in order to truly move on. I didn’t realize this until this week. Sure, this last year I have taken some control of my life and have lost a lot of weight. But I haven’t worked out through my emotional issues as I should. In order for you to understand where I am coming from I will make a full disclosure.

I was molested as a child. By my father. After many attempts as a child, seeking help from my mother, the abuse didn’t stop. She didn’t care to stop the abuse. He was abusive to all of us. Mentally, sexually, emotionally..physically..the beatings were a welcome thing compared to the other things. I stopped speaking to my mother a few years ago after many attempts to preserve a relationship with her. I realized she didn’t care one bit about what I went through and today I realized after receiving an email from my sister that she doesn’t really give a shit. She has washed her hands of me and doesn’t even feel any remorse about what she allowed her husband to do to her daughters. I wanted to pretend it didn’t hurt. But it does.

To know you were born of two such people hurts. People who never cared and never gave a shit about your life or well being. Being betrayed by the people who should of protected you and loved you the most in life is something I just cannot come to terms with. My father killed himself when I was 12. It was at a time when I was ready to reveal this secret. He went out like a martyr. I never revealed the secret on threats from an older sister, who even though was abused herself, to this day she thinks of him as her hero. Everyone thought he was a poor man who was suffering so much he ended his life so tragically. No one wanted to admit the truth. Because, anyone who has been through what I have been through knows that sexual abuse is a known secret in families. People know but decide to remain silent. It is easier to not say a word. To not say it out loud because then it might become true. That is unacceptable.

Years later I have found he abused so many more people. Sisters, children from his first family..and who knows who else? This is the legacy such people leave.  They leave hurt, pain, suffering and endless questions. Why me? Why do I have to deal with this? Why do I need this food to comfort my emotions?

As a child I screamed my truth asking for help to my mother. I hoped she would help me but she never did. For years I suffered and sadly I am still suffering. She hides behind her religion, her faith and the family members who wish to remain in denial. She thinks her husband was a great man, takes flowers to his grave and to this day pretends nothing ever happened, nothing was ever said.

So, yeah. I start my birthday on not a great note but I hope I can come to some closure someday. With myself, with my family, with food, with myself.

Tags: emotional eating, goals, healthy-living, mental-health, weight loss, weightloss