My Mother Broke My Heart But Set Me Free

My last post I shared an email I sent my mother in response to the message she wrote in my birthday card.

I didn’t share what she’d written but I will now.

The card itself says, “You’re always on my mind…

Inside it says, “…and in my heart.”
Then she signs it: I love you – Mom.

The message she wrote inside:
My dear (My Name)-

I think of you every day. I can understand your determination to discontinue family relationships – but it doesn’t change my love for you, or my regrets for having failed you in so many ways.
I was never supportive enough, empathetic enough, active enough in defending you or making sure that you knew you were valuable and loved. My sense of guilt and sorrow is huge. I don’t expect forgiveness – nor will I ever forgive myself.
There were “contributing factors” in my failure at motherhood – they don’t excuse it in any way, but knowing about them might give you some insight into why it has taken me a lifetime to grow up and realize just how damaged I had been.  I am so very sorry.
I am willing to pay for your round trip airfare from Philly if you are willing to come. Please give it some consideration and let me know.

(Note: She lives in Florida.)

To read the email I sent in response to the message, you can find it here.

I waited a few days and knew she’d be working on a reply back to me, but I ended up calling her.

I read something in a book called No Place to Hide: Facing Shame So We Can Find Self-Respect. I don’t have the patience or presence of mind to find it right now.

It had me confused and thinking well, if I can change my behavior and how I think about what happened, maybe I can have a relationship with my mother.  Thing is, I’d already written an email and in that email it has said I wasn’t capable of having a superficial relationship. So with that and knowing I had let her know where I was coming from already, I went for it.

I had been crying before I picked up the phone to call. I calmed myself down but then I would start to cry when I’d reach for the phone again. I took some deep breaths, thought I’d be okay and dialed. When she answered, I started to cry again.

It was coming from the little girl in me who still needs her mom and was so relieved to hear her voice. It was also coming form fear of being rejected too.

I called with the intention of just letting things go if she wanted but also knew that given my email, she would open the floor to me, so to speak.

The first thing I let her know is that I didn’t want it to be like the email I sent my father. <<<That’s a link to the post that explains more about that.

First she asked me what email. Seems difficult to believe she wouldn’t know. But I don’t know.

Once I clarified she said, in an adamant tone of voice, “You have every right to how you feel about your father. As far as I’m concerned those feelings are justified. (This coming form the woman who triangulated with my sister to manipulate me into ‘stepping up’ or walking away when it came to caring for my father while he was dying of a terminal illness.)

That’s a long story and I’ve written posts about that too, in 7 parts. I’ll link them at the end of this post.
In fact reading them will pretty much explain what my phone conversation was about with my mother. We only talked for about an hour and a half though and I didn’t get into everything.

The main thing I wanted to get across to my mother was how I felt, even though I did mention my feelings during that time when I wrote the email to her in response to her most recent birthday card. But also the actual events helped to pin-point what made me feel those emotions

On the phone I talked about the things she’d done I felt were disrespectful and manipulative. In telling her those things, I admit, I wanted validation and a real apology would’ve been nice. I also told her about what my siblings did that she wasn’t aware of. I didn’t see their behaviors as anything for her to apologize for but I was hoping it would illustrate how exhausting it all was for me to basically be ganged up on. I was in a position where it felt like three against one and no one gave one shit about my feelings. Everyone else’s mattered though.

True to the narcissist way, the apologies were things like, “I’m sorry that you felt that way,” and “I’m sorry if that happened.”

When she would say that, I would think about part of that excerpt in the book I mentioned above. There was something about acceptance. Accept how they are, just let them be them and don’t try to change them.

But this just didn’t work for me.  I felt invalidated and frustrated that I wasn’t getting real and sincere apologies. I said things that alluded to wanted an apology but not even one was forthcoming.  She also made excuses and gave me reasons for different things I brought up. Despite all this, I agreed to lunch or dinner with her if she flew up at Christmas time.

But then it turned out there was more than just frustration and I didn’t really know everything I felt until some time after we hung up.

I wanted to let these feelings go. I wanted to just accept it. But it hurt way too much. And so as the day wore on after our conversation, I began to have bouts of crying and even actual uncontrollable weeping.

I wept because I worried about her reaction to what I was feeling if I wrote to her about it. I wept because it was the same old song and dance. I wept because I just could not be that person who just accepts her as she is, in this particular circumstance and her actions against me, and move on to have a relationship anyway.

One other thing she said, right before we got in on the difficult stuff, is that she didn’t want a superficial relationship either. But her actions said differently, or more accurately, her words later said different.

So I sent her another email, telling her how the the conversation left me feeling.
Subject line: Emotional struggle

I’m really struggling right now emotionally. You asked if I was (I forget your exact wording) uncomfortable talking to you I think it was. And something I didn’t think to mention is that these talks kick up a lot of difficult emotion for me. And then other stuff comes up for me that didn’t get discussed.
Basically, without getting into details about exact events and words that were said, the underlying thing is that I felt/feel like (my siblings’) needs and wants matter/ed to you more than mine do/did. (Not talking about childhood right now, but the events surrounding dad and his care.)
And that hurts deeply and I feel like the conversation with you today just opened that wound right up again. In fact the conversation made me realize that was pretty much the whole underlying feeling I got from you.
This realization has left me feeling so insignificant to you as well as feeling very empty and pretty hopeless.
(My note: That hopeless feeling was actually anxiety about meeting with her in person after realizing that I was thinking about more stuff that I’d want to discuss. It was also loneliness. I had a deep sensation of lonliness right after hanging up with her and it just grew until I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
I cried on and off until that night, when I finally wrote the above to her.)

Here’s her response:
I know and appreciate that it’s important for you to express how you feel and felt at the time of those events.  You did enlighten me about what was happening between you and (your siblings) – I had not been aware at the time.  What I did feel then was that your father’s needs were the primary concern just then – in spite of our many, many differences, the divorce, etc.  If you were “insignificant” to me, I would not have had you on my mind every day since you ceased contact with me – with worry about what was happening in your life and feelings of deep guilt and regret on my part.  At the same time, I felt that I should respect the boundaries you had expressed.  It surely is not my intent to make your emotional state more painful.  I don’t know whether it is more beneficial for you to try to work through these issues with me – or to back away and close me out again.  That is your call.  But I need to say to you that despite your feelings, you were NEVER insignificant to me and I feel awful knowing that our interactions led you to believe that.  You matter to me, your well being is very significant to me, and I will love you forever – whether you choose to communicate or not – it is unconditional.

My initial response was this:
I feel like we didn’t even have the same conversation. I was letting you know how I felt about your role in what I went through during those months and how your actions effected me.
Yes, I filled you in on what Chris and Mel did too, but that wasn’t something I was trying to resolve with you. There was a whole lot more to what I was saying than that.
Although you are correct in saying that it’s important to express myself, I also feel it’s important to have what I went through validated. And I don’t feel that.

I feel that my feelings were dismissed and still at this point, pretty insignificant.

I do think it will be better for me to work through these issues without you.

This is what I wanted to say:
If dad’s needs were so fucking important to you then, perhaps it should’ve been you that ‘stepped the fuck up” instead of manipulating and shaming me into doing it on the terms you needed. I don’t think for a second that his needs were truly that important to you.
It was about you needing others to take care of it, so that you didn’t have to. And you went about making that happen, while at the same time triangulating with my sister, getting between a fight that I didn’t even know we were having.  She and I had talked before you called with your shaming and arm twisting. Sister and I had hung up in agreement that dad needed outside care and that neither one of us wanted his care to take over our lives and that we’d visit but not be his nurses.
But then you blindsided me with a phone call, that I KNOW was prompted by her bitching and whining about me not doing what she wanted, because she’s a sneaky little narcissist like that. Acts like she’s cool with what I say, agrees with me but secretly wants to rage at me for not doing what the little princess wants me to do. She can’t stand that she can’t control me, so she calls you. And you, like a fucking minion, calls to pressure me, guilt me and shame me.
As the mother of both of us, the proper thing to do in that case is to tell my sister that she will need to fight her own battles, not that you will call me for her. How fucking old are you??? That’s middle school shit.
So I can clearly see that you understand nothing, if all you got out of the conversation is that I ‘enlightened you” about my siblings behaviors toward me that you weren’t aware of. You missed the point entirely if you think it’s just about expressing how I felt at that time. Get a fucking clue. Get out of your head once in a while and get in touch with your heart.
You say you’ve had regret and guilt. For what? You’re clearly not open to anymore about what I want to say and my emotions about everything that I went through. If you felt so much regret and guilt, you’d actually be open to what I have to say and you’d be apologetic. But that’s not what’s going on here.
I don’t care how many times or in how many ways you SAY that I’m significant. It’s fucking obvious as hell and you’ve made it so, over and over again throughout my life, that my feelings are in no way significant to you. You are important and significant to you and that’s it. I don’t think it was always like that though and maybe that’s what has kept me in denial for so long. I remember at times you did care about my feelings. But I’d say more times than not, there wasn’t much empathy.
Yeah, I do need to work through my feelings alone without you and as you say, back away and close you out again. In fact, I wish to close you out forever.
Please stop sending me birthday cards with letters of fake bleeding heart messages. If you really cared, if I was really on your mind 365 days out of every year since I cut off communication, then why not send messages or letters on other days and let me enjoy my birthday? 
I have never looked at my walking away from the family as a boundary (until now) and I in fact told you that on the phone yesterday.  It was my way of protecting myself. I mean, who the fuck would not want to get away from an abusive relationship? Who would not move away from a toxic environment?  I mean, c’mon, you did it. You yourself refused to go to your own father when he was dying. Nor did you attend the funeral.  You divorced my father. Why? Because it was a toxic and unhealthy place for you to be.
But it’s true, walking away from a toxic family was in fact a boundary, saying that I will no longer be the family scapegoat, doormat and dumpster is a way of drawing a line.
Another boundary is when someone tells you, no and that they aren’t going to do something. Disrespecting that boundary is when you try to talk the person into doing what they just said they didn’t want to do, using guilt or shame or bribery. Even coercive language like, “Well it could help you too” is pushing a boundary.
So no, you have not respected my boundaries.
So I guess that’s it. I’ll just say, Thank you.
You broke my heart, but you also set me free.


I didn’t send either of these. What I sent was this:
Looks like it will be best for me to work through ‘the issues’ alone.

Below are the links I promised to link above. They will tell you pretty much what happened back in 2013, surrounding my father’s care during the last months of his life.  These parts were actually written from what I’d hand written in a journal. I know there is more on the blog but I think most of the info needed to put this post into perspective is there.

Stepping up: The Intro

Stepping up part 1

Stepping up part 2

Stepping up part 3

Stepping up part 4

Stepping up part 5

Stepping up part 6

Stepping up part 7



Message From My Mother; Message To My Mother

I forget now, did I mention that I got a birthday card from my mother 5 days before my birthday.

In it, she included a personal message as usual. The message started out nice. She even apologized at the end of the paragraph. But there was also some manipulation and a bit of guilt tripping. Not that I think she knows that. I honestly don’t think she realizes it.  But then who knows, she could have me fooled.

She thinks and has thought these last six birthdays, that I don’t talk to her now because of my shitty childhood and how bad of a mother she was. I’m paraphrasing.

So this year, instead of ignore it (or at least let her think I’m ignoring her, because every year I have a melt down, she just doesn’t know it) I decided to respond.

It really frustrates me that she thinks that I decided to cut ties with her and my siblings because of my shitty childhood, just after my father died. I mean, if I was cutting ties for a shitty childhood, would it make sense to wait until my father died? He made my childhood shitty too, so if that were the reason I’d have cut ties long before I did.  Besides cutting ties with my mother for a shitty childhood doesn’t explain the reason for cutting ties with my siblings. So…

So here’s the email I finally sent:

Hi Mom-

Each time you send me a card with a message written in it, you refer to how bad of a mother you were while I was growing up.

I appreciate the thought and the apology for that, but in all honesty that is not the reason I stay away from you. (Or my siblings for that matter.)

My reasons for staying away, stem from my experiences with you, Chris and Mel shortly before and during the months that dad was dying. I felt scapegoated, manipulated and betrayed.

My boundaries were utterly disrespected and my feelings were completely minimized and dismissed. I felt like a used up doormat and a receptacle for the whole family’s toxicity by the time it was all over.

To give you one example, I was given the same ultimatum by all three of you in separate phone conversations!
“Step up or walk away.” Ultimatums are a form of manipulation.

I’ve stayed away because I finally realized what was going on and that I didn’t and don’t deserve to be treated the way you were all treating me.

Both forgiveness and trust are processes, and things to continually build on and nurture, not just once and done events. Again, just to be clear, I am not referring to my childhood. I’m much more affected at this point in time by what took place in those months in 2013, than what happened in my childhood.

So with all that being said, I’m confused as to what you want from a visit. What is it you are thinking? Do you want to talk things through? Or do you want to just visit and leave ‘the heavy stuff’ under the rug?

I am not able to have a superficial relationship with my own mother. There is a lot to work out. When things are as toxic and dysfunctional as they are, it is unhealthy to continue to pretend that they are not. So I am not capable of such a visit, let alone a relationship like that.

For me to come down and see you would take building some trust back up first as well. So if you’re interested in having that difficult and possibly healing conversation, then it will need to happen here in Delco. In addition, understand that I have reason to be apprehensive about talking through the “hard stuff” with you. It has not had great results for me in the past.

With that being said, I would not be ready at this time to have that conversation myself. It is a difficult one (and may not and likely won’t be just one conversation) and at this time, I am going through some really stressful and difficult things, working some issues out with Bruce and dealing with some health issues that I am attending to and which take priority for me. (That’s a boundary and I’m quite adamant about it.) Adding such a stressful conversation (although I’m not even clear if you are even open to that) to “my plate” is not going to work for me.

To be completely honest, in the Spring, in perhaps another six or seven months (here in Delco, you and me, without my siblings) would be much better for me.

So that’s where I stand. I would be willing to see if it’s possible to build back a relationship, but there are stipulations because I am no longer going to compromise myself to please others just because they don’t like my choice to say no. And I’m not going back to the same old same old dysfunction.

I’m nervous about her response, but happy that I stood up for myself and kept it respectful.

A Walk, A Haunt and My Birthday

I have finally started getting myself out for walks. Last week I saw a really well decorated house for Halloween but didn’t have my camera. So on Friday, the day before my birthday, I went out for another walk. This time with my camera.

If you click on each photo, you can get a full screen view. Then you should get a magnifying glass type icon with a + inside it. That will give you the capability to look closer at the detail. (if you’re interested. I know not everyone likes this stuff.)

Although I stopped watching horror movies, because they’ve been too much for my PTSD, I still love Halloween. My favorite thing to do or had been, before the intense stress messed me up, was to go and do things like haunted hay rides and haunted houses, where people dressed up like monsters and ghouls and scared the shit out of everyone. I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved it. I remember going through one that was set up in a long trailer in the parking lot at the mall when I was a kid. My brother was younger than me and although he didn’t really like that stuff he went through anyway.

I went through screaming and laughing. My brother cried with fear. At the end, one of the guys that had been in costume came out the other side with us. I don’t remember all details. But he was concerned about my brother so he came out of character to soothe him. It was the sweetest thing. Even came out of the trailer and spoke to my parents in a jovial manner, and wanted to make sure my brother had calmed down. He also had told them how much I’d enjoyed myself.

Even as an adult, I still loved it. By then, most of the time I wasn’t really that scared. I mean sometimes these creatures would make me jump, but not usually. It was just part of the fun. It made it more fun…for me and for the people in costume. I also love to see how they ‘decorate’ the places. The stuff that people do to make these places spooky and scary is amazing.

But it’s been years since I’ve been to one.

One of the last things I did with my mother (for my birthday) was to go to an event with 4 ‘haunted’ buildings all made up to scare people for Halloween. It was fun. I screamed and laughed a lot.

So yeah, I got a kick out of the house in the photos above.

The day after I took the above photos, was my birthday.
I really thought that B forgot. He never said “happy birthday” before he left to get some stuff done.  I loved that he went out though. Because of the stress I feel around him a lot of the time, I was grateful to be left alone yesterday.  However, it turned out that he did remember and brought cake and a card full of goodies.

The night before I had requested a gelati from Rita’s and B stopped and got a couple. I saved mine. It turned out that after I ate dinner, I didn’t really want it.

So it turned out to be the perfect birthday treat as you can see in the video below. I celebrated my birthday with it.

Warning: There is singing. 😀


A Birthday Card and a Dream

Last night, or more accurately, early this morning, I had a dream that starred two women and later a huge dog that looked like a giant version of a Burnese Mountain dog.

The women were standing in front of me in a crowd. One of the women in particular, kept backing up toward me as they moved around a lot. Actually they both were doing this, with very little room to spare. A couple times one of them almost stepped on my foot and both of them almost backed right into my body a few times. The woman closer to me than the other was then called up to the front of this auditorium type place the crowd I was part of was standing in. When the other woman turned around and saw me, I said (with a smile),  “Oh good, I was just about to say something to her.” (Referring to standing too close, etc.)

The woman sneered and replied, “Well she’s on medication so…”

I didn’t respond. Then I noticed the woman who was up at the front had lost her note cards by putting them (accidentally) through a slot at the podium/desk she was standing at. She peered out toward where I was standing, with a pleading look on her face and I walked up to get them out of the slot and hand them to her.

I felt uncomfortable up there in the front of all those people, even though I was just helping this woman out and walked right back to where I’d been standing.  Then she realized there was a third card and didn’t see where that one was. She looked at me and let me know with body language she couldn’t see the other card and still needed help.  From where I was standing, I could see it still inside the desk and it had not gotten stuck inside the slot.  I shrugged and said quietly, “I don’t know.”

She eventually found it on her own.

Then while I was standing on one side of a post and rail fence, a man walked onto the other side of it with a Bernese Mountain dog that could’ve belonged to Paul Bunyon. The man was average size and squirted all of the water from a water bottle into the dogs mouth, which was level with the man’s head.  After the dog received the water, he then nudged the man’s face. From my vantage point, I thought the dog wanted more water. But it turned out the dog had a ball in its mouth and was nudging the man to play.

Post and rail fence

I felt intimidated, even though I was on the other side of the fence and stood up on the rails of the fence to make myself bigger/taller than the dog…which actually made me unrealistically tall, almost like the “Christ the Redeemer” statue in Brazil.

I could hear the dog growling and thought it was because of me standing high up like that.
(But of course irl I know that dogs play growl when they’re playing.)

The part of the dream with the women is likely drawn from my two hour wait on Tuesday, at the ultra crowded DMV. I had already been quite stressed out from some other stuff going on in my life and dealing with that, added another layer of stress. My responses also indicate my codependence relating to caring more about people’s reactions to standing up for myself than I do about actually standing up for myself. It also shows my willingness to be helpful, but only to the point that I am okay with and will even say something that isn’t true, just to not deal with the complete but short sentence of saying ‘no.’

I related these two women in my dream to two girls in the neighborhood I lived in from the ages of 10 to 20. My family had just moved there and I had just finished 5th grade. Since I was new to the neighborhood I was bored. I’d met the one girl already and thought that we’d become friends. But apparently she didn’t like that idea because she recruited another girl to help her bully me one day.

Not to jump around too much, but I received a birthday card from my mother on Monday, with a personally written message inside of it. She still believes that my reasons for staying away from her (and I guess my siblings) stem from her mistakes as a mother while I was growing up. Her message was mixed. It was manipulative and yet I detected some desperation in there too. She also even apologized for her behavior from my childhood.

I’m honestly not sure if she is aware of her manipulations. I tend to think that she is not. But I wouldn’t gamble on it. I don’t give benefits of the doubt anymore when it comes to people who’ve already proved themselves to be manipulative and have betrayed my trust.

I’ve written out an email standing up for myself and clarifying that I’m not staying away because of my shitty upbringing but because of how I was treated in the weeks leading up to my father’s death.  I’m paraphrasing here. I didn’t call my upbringing shitty in the email.

I’m debating on when to send it. My birthday is tomorrow so I think I’ll wait til after the weekend. Because I know that after I send it I will be nervous about her reply and I want to give my mind and body a chance to chill out. Just receiving her cards with these messages at the time of my birthday, creates a lot of turmoil for me.  So I’m giving myself the gift of a little time. And afterward I’ll give myself the gift of finally verbalizing (even if it is in writing) the real reason I severed ties with my mother and siblings. I don’t know what will come of it. I don’t know how she’ll receive it. But that’s not my job. My job for myself is to stand up for me and say what I need to say in as civil a manner as possible, yet get the point across.

Relating back to the dream:

My wanting/needing to speak up is important to me. But yet, I feel the need to plaster a fake smile on my face in order to do so. It covers up my feelings of anguish…feelings that none of them want to know about.

When it comes to my mother, I am compelled to help her forgive herself, to go to her because I feel sorry for the way she feels, or at least the way she expresses herself to feel…one thing she said in the message is that she won’t ever forgive herself for how she was when I was growing up. My feelings of wanting to and being compelled to go to her is represented in the part of the dream when I go up to the podium and get those note cards out of the slot, because she doesn’t see them and I do. (Just like my mother doesn’t see (or claims to not see) the real reason I stay away from her.

Standing on the fence to make myself super huge, when I felt intimidated by the humongous dog was to mask the intimidation I felt by the big dog.  I believe that big dog represents my family (mother, brother, sister) as well as the growling from the dog represents their bullying and abuse of me.

The email I intend to send is that fence that I’m standing on. It’s a boundary, but also helps me to feel ‘bigger’ than I’ve been in the past. Bigger meaning that I am more willing to see myself and my feelings as important rather than worry so much about being seen as or even called selfish because of the boundary I choose to draw.

I’m still feeling intimidated. But standing up for myself has become more important than worrying about what will happen on the other end.

The Dust That My Brother’s Wife’s Friend Request Kicked Up + Giving Myself More Compassion

Last night I ran an errand and in the car I started to think about my brother’s wife’s friend request.

And I felt angry.

How dare she intrude on my life. She doesn’t know me. She can’t possibly know the truth of why I don’t speak to my brother and it is not her fucking business to attempt to insert herself into my life.  Whether it was to announce the marriage to me or try to serve as some sort of mediator to get my brother and me back to talking again, she can suck it.

When I opened this post to write a new one, I started it as a message to her, to write out and never send. But it got too jumbled. I got into stuff that if I were to actually write it, I’d have to get more into detail, and I have no desire to do that right now. I don’t want to give any of my family members that much energy. They’ve sucked enough out of me as it is.

It’s good enough for me to just write this and express how the fucking friend request made me feel. The emotional flooding that came first after realizing who she was and that it was my brother in the photos, jacked me up.  I could feel the stress and agitation. I could feel the anxiety.  I felt wired.

Thankfully, the errand I ran last night was to my favorite store (a health food store) in my county.

It’s a small store with such a calming atmosphere. And when I walk in, it’s like crossing another dimension and gives me a huge sigh of relief. It’s been like that since I discovered it years ago. On my way there, I could see a thunderstorm was on its way. A somewhat heavy rain hit almost as soon as I entered the store.  It was awesome and gave me the escape from my thoughts that I needed at that moment.

Unfortunately the drive home stressed me out once again. I was like where the fuck is all this traffic coming from after 8 pm on a Thursday night. And I was even on the back roads.

So anyway:

The old me would give my brother’s wife the benefit of the doubt. And my narrative would go something like this: “Oh, I don’t know what she knows. I don’t know what brother has told her. I don’t know her line of thinking. Maybe she just got curious and found me on her own. Maybe she’s just sentimental. It’s okay because she just doesn’t understand the family issues.”

But fuck that. In fact her not understanding and friend requesting anyway, served to piss me off. She knows that we don’t talk. And of course she only knows what my brother told her. So that would likely mean he didn’t tell her that I don’t want to talk to him because I acquired PTSD via his, my sister’s and my mother’s scapegoating, manipulation and raging.

So she’s butting in to something she knows nothing about and she needs to mind her own fucking business.

In the past, I would also be too scared of my brother’s reaction to delete her request and block her ass. I’d just let it linger there and try to ignore it. But not anymore.

He can suck it too.I’m sick and tired of caring more about their reactions and feelings than I do my own feelings and my own protection. I’m sick of being scared and doing things (or not) that are not in my own best interest and in fact a detriment to my well-being, to keep someone else from feeling bad.

I have no doubt he had a hand in her friend request. He’d have to point out that I was the right ‘Sleeping Tiger.”  Okay so, we all know that’s not my real name. But my actual name happens to be pretty fucking common and when you search it, a lot of people with the same name come up. So yeah, he’d have likely had to help her with that since she and I don’t know each other.

Every time one of those fuckers reaches out, it makes me wish I’d just been straight forward with them all in separate emails, instead of being vague and telling them simply that I need time away. I even said something so fucking co-dependent that I’m now so disgusted with myself for it.

I wrote that I needed a hiatus and that I wasn’t sure how long I needed and that it wasn’t about ‘grudges.’ UUUGGGGHHHHH!

But that was a lie. I mean, it’s not the whole of it. It’s not JUST a simple grudge. That word seems to minimize it. But I wanted to simplify it in the email and wanted to assure that there was no judgment toward me. No minimizing of my feelings or denial of their actions.

Nor did I want a raging brother at my door again screaming “HOW DARE YOU!” in my face again for pointing out the truth.

They definitely should be aware of their own behavior. But they are not.

So that means they have no clue. And I hate that I never just straight up told them. Even though my fear is completely justified.

Also in my own defense and giving myself some much needed slack and understanding, I had every reason to be afraid of them…or at least my brother. I was also in a very different state of mind at the time I sent that email.

All I knew at the time was that I needed to protect myself by getting away and I needed to tell them something. In addition I needed to tell them something that would also ensure that none of them would come knocking on my door to persuade, manipulate or scream at me.

I was in a deep brain fog from the trauma of the abuse. And all I knew was that I needed protection. And unfortunately, I was the only one in my own life who was going to take care of me.

So I had some justifying reasons. And hell, if they really wanted to know, they could ask and stop dodging, stop pretending, stop trying to shove themselves back into my life like it’s just business as usual.

If they took the time to self reflect and looked in the mirror, they might actually come to some realization. But these are people who think that I am too sensitive. They think that I worry too much. They have double standards to the point that I should be able to let their shitty behavior and abuse go, because it’s in the past. They think that I have no justification to my own feelings.

The last time I expressed my hurt, I got a raging visitor in the form of my brother. Each time I have expressed my feelings and reason for doing something, I’ve been faced with either a minimizing response, scapegoating or some sort of manipulation. So it makes total sense as to why I wouldn’t tell any of them exactly why I want to not just walk away from them, but to run and never look back.

So My Brother’s (New) Wife Sent Me a Friend Request on Facebook

A photo I took at my maternal grandmother’s house when my brother and I took a drive down there together to visit her. This was years ago. We were feeling strange and creative. We came up with this. Guitar and case were my bro’s. Umbrella and surrounding furniture, my grandmother’s.

If you’ve read a good portion of this blog, you know I don’t talk to any of my immediate family…mother, sister, brother.  And for good reason.

I blocked both siblings a long time ago but the small area we are from and the school district we went to, I have plenty of friends on my list that know them both.

Apparently my brother, although he’s lived with this woman for a while, has recently gotten married…from what I can tell from what I can see on her FB page.

The moment I realized who she and the man were in the photos, was quite the strange experience.

He dated her before when they were younger, but I don’t remember her. I know this from an email he sent me a few summers ago, one I didn’t respond to.

When I saw this mysterious name as a friend request, I clicked on it to see who she was and if we had any friends in common.  I was taken to her FB page with photos of her and a man. A man I didn’t recognize at first. A man I wasn’t really looking at so much either. I was trying to figure out who the woman was requesting ‘friendship.’

I scrolled a bit and saw some post pertaining to a local radio station and then it clicked in my brain, who the man was I’d been looking at.  My brother.

It’s probably a variety of reasons request. My brother is blocked, so he can’t request unless he creates another account. They are likely announcing the marriage. And I think my brother still wants a relationship with me.

But I can’t do it. Not unless some discussions are had, some acknowledgments are made, apologies too. And that there is some understanding as to why I’ve stayed away so long.  And given his minimizing of my feelings last time I tried to confide in him, I don’t think that is there.

I won’t accept the friendship and I’ll likely block her at some point. I’m not on there much so it’s not a big deal. But it kinda freaked me out.

You know, when I was driving around yesterday, in the area I lived in with B for 13 years, I was wishing I could move the fuck out of this area, so I could stop being so close to all the things and places that hold so many shitty memories.  I feel like that again, right now. Not that my family’s or my internet presence won’t be a thing, but it would be much more freeing to not be in their physical vicinity.

Oh and btw: Even though I have been aware of what my brother looks like these days because of his YouTube channel, that I don’t visit often, he looks very different than he did the last time I saw him five years ago. And being distracted and focused on the woman made my mind kind of blind to who he is.

Lemme tell ya. It’s very strange not to recognize your own brother.

Regrets, Anger and a Little Bit Letting Myself off the Hook

Yesterday I ran some errands and needed to drive through the area that B and I lived in for 13 years before moving to where we live now.

Driving through there, I was inundated with memories, particularly the ones about my old petsitting/dogwalking boss.

-About how her husband actually asked me (after a few years of employment with them) to schedule phone calls with him, whereby I would talk dirty to him. (I know that one is hard to get past, but try to keep reading. There’s more.) Don’t worry. I said NO!

-About how she was calling me her right hand ‘man’ to clients before telling me that was her plan, in the first week of my employment with her.

-Telling me how ‘we’re not that busy over the Christmas holiday’ then emailing the schedule where I can clearly see ‘my-barely-any-room-to-eat schedule’ for the two weeks over Christmas. I felt completely manipulated when I got that email.

-Springing a last minute overnight on me for that same period of time, when I stopped over to give her my time sheet. THEN, giving the wrong starting date so that I am humiliated by walking into the clients’ house while they are still home, hanging around watching TV, etc. And then never compensating me for that mistake.

-Treating me like a child at times. I don’t remember exact examples of this. I just remember this one time when we were talking on the cell as I was walking a dog and she said something to me and I replied saying, “Stop treating me like a child.”  That was the only time I’d said that. And I know from that and myself well enough, that she already had a history of treating me that way a number of times before I’d had enough and barked back at her.

-Getting angry and agitated when I confronted her about not paying me for a visit to a dog that didn’t get walked.

This one is a bit tough to explain. Upon hiring me, she specifically told me time as well as well as followed through, that when a pet is scheduled for a visit and we show up for that visit and if the owner is home and does not want the dog walked or cat tended to, the sitter gets paid. (It shows up in the pay check. The company’s policy for clients is that the visit needs to be cancelled by 9am or they are charged for said visit.

The one particular day, she changed the rules, just for that day. I was training a new employee. We stopped at a regular client’s house who was on my schedule. The human was home. I introduced the new employee to the human and the dog client. The new employee played with the dog for a bit and talked to the human. I also asked human client if she wanted us to walk her dog, she said, “No, it’s too hot.” I said, Okay and we left.

When I got paid, I noticed that visit wasn’t on my pay check so I asked boss about it through email. She wrote back, ‘well you didn’t walk the dog, why would you get paid for that?’ Throughout this reply email, she also wrote, three or four times,  “just curious,”  “just curious,” “just curious.” It scared me, I backed off.   I kick myself for that one. I should’ve been “JUST CURIOUS” about when the fucking rules changed.

-Not respecting my boundaries. (When I’d say no I can’t do that visit because I’d have plans, she’d get upset and tell me how fast of a visit it would be and that I could still make it to my plans.)

-When I’d explain that I can’t do ‘so many visits’ because it was exhausting me and when I did too much I’d actually get depressed*, she’d tell me I was limiting myself.
(I know now, that I was getting depressed and exhausted from the dog walks and all the driving because of adrenal dysfunction. I had no idea then.)
-Also to be fair, I would get these bouts of excitement and want more work. I even told her I wanted to build up to full time, in the beginning of my employment. I think part of that was feeling important by her telling people I was her right hand man too. Despite also being afraid of that title so soon at the same time. But then I would have difficulty with that, and get a little scared of a too-busy schedule, both for physical reasons and mental/emotional reasons and pull away, telling her that I actually just wanted to have so many visits on my regular schedule and wanted to be done at a certain time most days.
-I also want to note that it was a given that I would have a heavier schedule during certain times of the year. I didn’t love it, but it was a bit easier when I knew what was coming. My problem was mainly with her telling me ‘it wasn’t that busy” and that she gave everyone else off on Christmas day except me. But she did that every year.  Then seeing my inundated schedule.  THAT’S MANIPULATION and LYING.

-Getting angry with me when I called out because I got really sick. It was the only time in 3 fucking years. I had a sore throat, nasty cough, etc and I missed the entire week.
-Granted it’s difficult to be sick when you’re a pet sitter. I was her employee though (not the owner of the company) and when I was hired, she told me that if her employees are sick, she rearranges things and takes care of it.  By the time I called out sick on her though, she’d had enough time to see my codependence and lack of boundaries. I stuck to my shit though. I was really sick and missed a week.  Of course she couldn’t resist to ask me when talking to me through that week, “What did your mom say?”  Many people would ask me that when I’d get sick because my mother’s a nurse.  And yesterday when I remembered this I got pissed off.

Who fucking cares what my mom says! I’m the one who’s sick. I’m the one in my own body. What’s important is what I say and how I feel.  But luckily my mother was always aware that, most of the time when I got sick that it was a virus and not an infection (although that has happened too) and no anti-biotic will take away a virus, so going to the doctor is pointless for that.

(Of course if there’s something more serious, anti-biotics are necessary. I got sick one year, working at a deli and on this virus premise did not go to a doctor. Still sick after a couple weeks, my boss and owner of the deli, finally said, you should go see a doctor. She even suggested one nearby.  I went during work hours. I got anti-biotics and got better. That’s fucked up because I still lived with my mother at the time and she didn’t catch this.

But I digress. Back to the pet sitter boss:

-The last time I asked for the vacation I had coming to me, she gave me a hard time. It was March, a few months after that Christmas schedule-from-hell and she gave me a hard time about it.

She said, “What do you need a vacation for?”

I kid you not!

I said, “Well, I have vacation time coming to me right?”

She said, “Yes.”

I said, “I figured it would be a good time to take it since Easter is next.” (Another somewhat busy time for pet sitters.)

I’m thinking about this yesterday and getting pissed off at her for the ridiculous questions and hard time about a vacation I had the time for.  And then pissed at myself for ‘explaining’ so much to her.

WTF! All she needed to know is that I wanted vacation time and the dates I was taking. The rest was none of her fucking business.

I got my vacation time. I had wanted to take that time and collect it before telling her about her pervy ass husband.  I’d been back and forth on that for so long.To tell or not to tell. (A bit manipulative I suppose. But this was survival.)

Carrying it around, to me at that time, felt like a heavy weight. I needed to tell her. But I already knew it wouldn’t go over well. I already knew she wouldn’t believe me. And I already knew I’d lose the job. So I wanted that vacation time.

The last night of my vacation, I spoke to her on the phone and told her all about how her husband wanted to schedule phone calls with me to talk dirty to him. I told her things that I would not know unless she or her husband had told me. And we both knew she would never tell me such personal shit.  I mean he got downright personal.

Her response? <GASP> “Not MY Bill.  (That was that perv’s name.)

And that was that. My job was, poof, gone.

So fast forward years later. I run into the old boss in a Wawa, although I’d passed her one other time in the doorway of that same store months before. This time, though, I was at the coffee station.  She got herself some coffee and then walked over to stand near me as I was stirring the cream into my coffee.

She says, “Hi Tiger, how are you?” All cheerful and maple syrupy sweet.
Like we’re old friends. Like nothing ever went down between us.

I froze. I was nervous. But I also didn’t forget. I also didn’t want to pretend that all was okay with us and I didn’t. I kept a straight face and just said, “Meh, okay.” And then walked to the cash register to pay and left.

At that time, I was part of a super small FB group that had been started by a woman whose blog introduced me to narcissistic abuse. We had also exchanged emails and got to know each other pretty well, even though we are on opposite ends of the country.

After running into the old boss, I posted about it on the group. From other members, I got some really validating comments. The woman running it however, suggested that I should’ve been more open. That it was an opportunity to find out more about what was going on with her presently. If she’d found out the truth, if her husband was still alive, etc.

So after reading that, I kicked myself. And ever since, when I’ve thought about it, I’ve kicked myself for not behaving differently.

But yesterday, as I thought about all of this shit, (and that it wasn’t just that one incident of her not believing me, and that she was going to sweep the sexual harassment in her company under the rug) I realized, I didn’t owe her a fucking thing. I didn’t necessarily make a mistake. I was protecting myself. The ball was in her court ffs.

I was being somewhat true to myself by not acting all lovey dovey-fake, like it was fine, just so I could manipulate information out of her. If I was being really real though, I could’ve said, “Wtf? You are seriously going to walk over here with a grin on your face and talk to me like we’re long lost friends after basically calling me a liar about your pervert husband??? I think you owe me an apology or we have nothing to say to each other.”

But I didn’t say that, so no, I wasn’t being completely authentic.

You could say that I wasn’t open enough for her to initiate any sort of apology or any further conversation.

But I’m calling bullshit on that. She could’ve humbled herself. I know if the tables were turned, if I got that kind of reaction, I’d know why.  And I know that the onus was on me to initiate some kind of conversation about what happened.

I’d stood there long enough for her to say something. She could’ve said something along the lines of, “Hey, I understand your reaction to me. I would like to talk, if you have time.”

And she knew where I lived so there’s that as well. If she really wanted a real authentic conversation and not to just throw around superficial pleasantries, she could have found a way to do so.  Authentic: that was the only kind of conversation I wanted to have. And since she wasn’t forthcoming, there was nothing to say.

Addendum to: I Wish My Mother Had Breast Fed Me

After I tapped out the emotions in my post about my mother not breast feeding me and the excuse she gave…I listened to the rest of the podcast/YouTube video the excerpt I also posted was from.

The doctor interviewed said that she struggled to breast feed. That it didn’t just come naturally or easy. That she had to work at it before it really worked.

I also was told by a friend of mine the same thing, telling me she had to work at it before she was actually able to do it.

Well, although I do think that a mother owes it to her infant to continue to try until she makes a success of breast feeding, so that her baby has at the very least that head start in health, I now understand now that it’s not just something that happens quickly and automatically for everyone.

So I wanted to add that I didn’t mean anything I wrote to be judgmental against every mother who never breast fed.  All circumstances are unique. Plus I want to admit to my mistake of not understanding how difficult it can be. I just thought it was easier and more natural than I’ve found out that it is. I was under the impression that most babies will just automatically latch, but I was wrong about that.

I mean, I still wish she’d breast fed. My feelings haven’t changed about that.

But I can probably even forgive her for not doing so. Were there pumps back then? Because if there were, then it would’ve been an option she opted against. Which would be another sign of her apathy and not wanting to bother.

But I don’t know the entire story since I don’t have any memory of any of this. Maybe she tried for a few months. If she did, she didn’t tell me about it. Maybe she tried once and gave up.  Again I don’t know.

I’m really not trying to find and nitpick shit my mother did wrong. I’m not even really mad at her  most of the time, for the shit that happened to me in childhood. I am disappointed that she didn’t try harder for me. That I wasn’t important enough to her to make the effort until it worked. I’m disappointed that she didn’t protect me more. I’m sad for myself as both adult and child, that I didn’t have a mother who wasn’t so apathetic, who wasn’t all that physically affectionate, who didn’t stand up for me when it was appropriate.  It sucks hard.

But what I’m mostly pissed off about as well as very emotionally injured from, is her behavior during my father’s time of dying. The story is weaved through the blog so I won’t get into it here.

Thing is, that level of manipulation and abuse taints the good to the point that there seems to be none of it left when it comes to my memories of her.

I Wish My Mother Had At Least Cared Enough to Breast Feed Me

I’m sitting here watching/listening to a woman who is a nutritional scientist named Rhonda Patrick. I’m not sure if that’s her technical title, but that’s the topic…nutrition from a scientific perspective.

If you’re into nutrition, you’ll find her quite interesting and very personable.

She had a baby earlier this year and on the Joe Rogan show she talked about her desire to breast feed because of the benefits of it to her baby. I’ll link the excerpt from the interview below, but I wanted to relate this to my own infant-hood.

My mother didn’t breast feed. No surprise there really. Not now that I know what a narcissist she actually is.

But I’ve known this for decades. I knew it as a child because I asked her once.

Me: Hey mom, was I breast fed?
Her: No, you didn’t like it.
Me: Oh.

I had colic when I was a baby too. And now that I know what I know about breast feeding, even before I came across this info that you’ll hear in the video below, I realized it was because I wasn’t breast fed. Or at the very least given some sort of probiotic…which would’ve been in the breast milk.

My mother’s answer to my crying with all that stomach cramping? Was to feed me more of what the fuck was causing me the colic in the first place.

I know all of this because she told me.  And yeah, maybe she didn’t know. But isn’t it her responsibility to know, to learn if she didn’t know. For God’s sake she’s a fucking nurse.  There must’ve been some inkling.

So the thing that contradicts her saying that I didn’t like it is this: First of all, let me just say that it’s instinct for a new born to seek out the breast for food.

Second: My father told me that right as he had me settled in his arms for the first time, I turned to seek out his breast. Why the fuck do you think I would do that? Of course I wasn’t going to find what I was looking for there,  (A theme that would play out through my entire life btw) but my instincts were obviously working.

So telling me that I didn’t like it????

I’d put money on that being a big fat ass lie.

So without further ado, here’s the video, and why if you weren’t breast fed as a baby could effect you even into adulthood:  (UGH! This makes me so angry.)

They’re Back

Yes, I’m talking about the heart palpitations. I felt really pissed off about various things yesterday, including things involving B. I have been having one of my cycles of intense anger and disgust.

And I think this has a lot to do with it. But I did do a bunch of talking like shit to B when he got home from being out most of the day.  I reminded him of another form to be followed through with and felt pissed that I had to do that. Because of him forgetting about a form last time that by the grace of me asking about it, he got it in by the skin of his teeth.

There were some other things too, like him putting away a couple things in the kitchen cabinet and having them hanging over the edge on the top shelf because something was behind them. And to fix that, someone had to get up on a step stool and move the shit in back so the shit in front isn’t hanging over.

That second one is pretty minor. But if that shit falls and breaks something or even makes me jump out of my skin because it makes a bunch of noise, well, that’s just fucked up. It’s preventable. Both examples are things a grown ass man should fucking know without being prompted. I feel like I live with a fucking 10 year old half the time.

So when I was verbalizing about the form and the boxes at the top of the shelf, I was pissed. My body was tense. I thought, what the fuck. Yet again, I have to tell him the same shit I tell him all the time.

Another example is he takes something out of a container or a box and doesn’t put the box or container back.

Not to be a bitch or anything but if I wanted to be a parent I would have a kid.

So I’m being traumatized by the day. How do you detach from something that effects you???

I didn’t really want to be writing about my physical health here, because, well, because I have an aversion to it over all.  Everyone has a different idea about what health is. Everyone has a different idea of what we should all be eating.

I really don’t mind conversations about food and nutrients and supplements. I like getting new ideas. I like to find out what works for others.   But I think my aversion mostly comes from my family. My sister in particular but my mother runs a close second on that.

Because I talked about nutrition and foods years ago, when I first started researching all of that back in 2000, my sister accused me of pushing it on others. There were other contentions too when I suggested that perhaps some of one of her friends’ kids behavior issues might have something to do with something in his diet.

She got all pissed about it but saved it to use against me later.  So yeah, when I write about nutrition here, I get a little nervous.

Note: Sister is the most malignant narc in my family. She knows full well that certain foods can effect not only a child’s behavior but an adult’s too. She’s made plenty of comments in the past about how sugar made her kids hyper. So there ya have it.  She’s just an asshole.

But I also know it fits on this blog, because (I believe whole heartedly that) people with PTSD and other ‘mental’ illnesses have more health problems.

Notice the little quotes around the word “mental”. I also don’t believe that mental illness is mental.  To me mental has to do with mind, thoughts even beliefs. The mind is a concept really, not a physical entity. We can’t touch our mind.

But illnesses like PTSD, bi-polar disorder, depression, GAD, etc. Even the cluster Bs and schizophrenia are illnesses of the brain. Does that not make them PHYSICAL illnesses. Our brain is something that CAN be touched. It’s part of our…well most of our bodies. (Sorry, sad attempt at being funny there.)

I also think that they involve other parts of the body, especially when talking about those brought on by lots of stress or trauma. And for all we know maybe they’re all brought on by stress and trauma.

So those are my opinions. I respect it if you think and feel differently about it. I just really needed to write that because I tend to hold my opinions back for fear of getting someone all worked up or mad.

And guess what the result is. I’m the one that gets sick.

So back to the arrhythmia. I think my getting worked up again is a result of getting these things. My cortisol goes up and it set my heart up. I can feel something going on right now.

When I was sitting in bed last night and when I laid down those fuckers happened again.  I had taken a bunch of supplements, the same as before but still they would not abate.   They weren’t as bad and scary but they were still there and it isn’t normal/healthy.

Okay so here’s the food part. I will admit to having issues with food.Since I started researching nutrition, after being diagnosed with a chronic illness. I was determined to heal it with diet and maybe supplements too.

And so I’ve been trying all kinds of things, usually for only short stints.
Vegan was one of them and I could never stick to it. The last time I tried that, I became ravenous (no exaggeration) for red meat.

Before I went and bought a steak at TJs though, I tried what I could think of to get the protein from vegan sources, the rice and beans trick, miso, tofu, vegan protein powder. Nothing satisfied until I bit into that steak.

Recently I’ve tried a ketogenic diet. More than once. To be honest, I’m kinda kicking myself for not sticking to it the first time because I was doing pretty well. But I gave in to carb cravings and went off of it.

When I tried again that’s when I noticed the heart palps and always being hungry. No surprise there. It had been years since doing it before and I had lots more metabolic damage from sitting around in a depression eating a bunch of junk and take out for at least two years straight. (With a few breaks in between of me cooking.)

Recently I’ve been checking out what’s called the carnivore diet.  I wanted this to work. The first time I tried it, I made it two weeks and started to shed some fat. My clothes were starting to fit better. My brain felt more clear. My moods were improving.

But two things. Constipation and heart palpitations.
I figured out that rendered/cooked fat was both giving me a histamine response and heart palpitations or even sometimes a racing heart.

But when you cut out fat while eating mostly protein, constipation happens.

I’ve also been having histamine responses to lots of carbs as well. And if I wasn’t getting a histamine reaction from them, I was having problems digesting them. My stomach would hurt after eating anything carby. And yes, that includes veggies, fruits and starches.

Can you say rock and a hard place.

So I’ve been eating lots of beef. One day I even ate half a pound of raw ground beef. I actually felt pretty good afterward. But mostly it’s been cooked burgers with raw milk melted cheese.

It digests well. But now I’m wondering if the lack of carbs is contributing the heart arrhythmia.  Don’t get me wrong, I do believe that it’s all the stress my body has been under, continuously and still going for 52 (almost 53 now) years.

But even when I don’t add extra fat, a burger has some fat. Not as much as some meats, but some and it’s rendered and cooked fat unless I eat it raw.

I didn’t take notice though of whether my heart had issues after eating that raw beef though.  And as much as I’d truly like to experiment with that, (because there are actually people out there thriving on it) it just doesn’t appeal to me.

Even if I wanted to do it, I don’t think I could eat enough at first to get enough calories.

Which brings me to another issue. I may not be getting enough  energy from my food. I ran into that before and I do have a habit of not eating right away when I’m hungry.

I was hoping that I could thrive on the cooked carnivore diet because it’s simple. Not a lot of thought has to go into meal prep. It’s something I’ve been needing because of my lack of motivation to spend time in the kitchen. Dishes are easy to.

And as much as I wanted it to work for mood, I think it’s making it worse now. I think it worked for a while but I think with my heart involved in the adverse reactions, it’s connected to how I feel mood wise.

I’m sitting here though, even after a night of little sleep and heart palpitations before getting to sleep, feeling wide awake and my mood isn’t too bad.  I have a feeling the supplements I’ve been taking have something to do with that.

Speaking of supplements I was taking magnesium citrate and at first it was working well for my moods. But was giving me headaches. The last two days I’ve had a really intense migraine.  Last night I tried a small dose of magnesium glycinate and no headache.  I’ll try a bit higher of a dose tonight.

Another reason I wanted the carnivore way of eating to make all the difference is fat loss.  The weight I’ve gained over a short period of time could also be taking its toll on my heart as well. But I won’t lie, as much as I want to lose weight for health, I also want to lose it to look better.

I miss the clothes I used to wear. I have saved them all in bins and I am determined to get into them again.

I’ve never been skinny. I’ve also always had a bigger lower body. But to give an idea of what I’m talking about, in 2009 I weighed 140. I’m 5’6″ so it’s average I suppose although I think I look better at 130.  (As long as it’s fat that’s coming off and not muscle.)

Through 2010 and 2012 I fluctuated between that 140 and 155.  After the break up of the affair I was involved in, I stayed the same for a while because I was still social in my fog.  Even though I was drinking a lot, smoking plenty of dope and eating food in restaurants, I still played disc golf. So I was getting exercise. I think the socializing helped too.

But then my father got sick and my family began to beat me up more than ever. And even though I stopped drinking and smoking pot, I also stopped seeing friends and stopped playing disc golf. I didn’t cook either and ate a lot of take out. Because B didn’t give me much thought either. Whether he thought I was eating at my father’s I don’t know. But then he never asked either.  This was still at a time I trusted him to use the stove so…

When my father died, I took to one chair or another and sat around eating junk food and take out watching TV or YouTube videos. I was still walking one dog a week so I was at least still walking over there to see her.  I’d been without a car for about three or four years. I drove my father’s car as long as they needed me. But as soon as he died, my sister insisted on putting it back into the estate…this even though they knew I was without a car.

My brother walked away with my father’s extravagant computer system and sister took his bed.

I fed my depression. I used junk to comfort myself and escape the reality of not being loved. Of realizing that I never was loved.

And I ballooned up eventually to 220. And at the moment I sit at about 210-215. I’m fat, I’m unhealthy. I have uterine fibroids and I’ve never been this big.

So yeah, although I know I am not loved or valued by my family, I’d like to find a way to value myself enough to be healthy. And to me that is much more than about weight loss. But weighing 215 pounds is not healthy. Not for me in my 5 foot 6 frame.  (Actually I’m 5 foot 5 and a half if you want to be absolutely exact.)

That was an emotional post to write, especially when getting to the part about my father’s car and how she took it back when it could’ve been signed over to me.  If the roles had been reversed and I was POA and executor and my sister was without a car when I had a decent one myself, I would not have hesitated to make sure she got the car.

So now, I am going to take some supplements and then go buy some carbs. It still stands that my digestive system has a difficult time with them. Not long ago I had some white rice with a meal. But I’m going to get some different stuff. Like quinoa, lentils, maybe some scallions, cauliflower and maybe some broccoli.  I’ll start small incorporating them into my protein meals and see what happens.

I’ll also keep taking supplements including HCl and digestive enzymes.  Maybe I can build my digestive system back up. Because to be honest I do think that eating from every food group is the right way for me.

PS. I’m not proof reading before posting because I want to get outta here. The health food store will already be crowded. Ugh…Saturday before Labor Day.