Poorly placed jealousy

Have you ever been jealous of something you have no reason to be jealous of? Logically it doesn't make sense for anyone to long for that thing? I have. I do. I struggle with misplaced jealousy all the time. Mostly for women who are deathly thin. I am jealous of their self-control. Their discipline and determination to not be fat, to conform, to look how society says they should. If I'm being completely honest here, which is my goal, then I must admit that as much as I'd like to say I'm happy with where I am and that I'd rather be a little overweight and healthy than thin and not, that's not the truth. I'd rather be unhealthy, sick even, if it meant being thin. When I try to pin down where all of these feelings started, I'm immediately drawn to my abuse as a child. When I was young, maybe 6, I had a male babysitter who watched me and my brother every Monday night, for about a year and a half. And during that time, he would take me into my room and sexually abuse me. I think that it has a direct affect on who I am and how I think and behave. Being so young, I didn't really understand the full meaning of what was happening. When I finally started going to meetings with my parents instead of staying home, they knew something was wrong and asked me why I wouldn't stay home. I remember them bribing me with Sleeping Beauty, my favorite Disney movie that we probably couldn't afford, to get me to talk to them. He was very good. He would say things to me like, if you tell anyone, we won't be friends anymore, which to a six year old is like the death sentence. Friends are all you want at that age. I told them, and that was that. No court, no police report, just, no more contact with him or his family. I didn't understand the severity of the issue, or realize that something sacred was taken away from me until I was much older. It wasn't something we ever spoke of. For all the good things my parents do and are for me, because I love them dearly and am blessed with a caring and loving family, they don't like to speak about serious issues. When I told them about my cutting and eating issues in high school, my mother got angry with me because 'I must've learned that behavior somewhere' and my father didn't really react. And we never spoke of it again. I think a lot of my issues have had to do with not being able to speak. And for a while I really resented my parents for not taking him to court, until I realized they were trying to protect me from more horrible memories as a child. They did the best they would with what they had at the time, and I appreciate it. However, I believe that the majority of my issues of self-image and self-worth and self-esteem stem from that experience. Which of course, lead to longing for things I shouldn't, and logically know are ridiculous, like looking like this:


I know its ridiculous. I know its unhealthy. I'm just jealous that they can control themselves in ways that I cannot. I used to be able to. There was a day when this was me. And now I'm heavier than I have ever been in my life. I don't have a happy, healthy medium. I am one extreme or the other.

I want to stop. I want to be happy with who I am, and with who God made me, and confide in Him for the help and motivation to take care of myself, the right way. Sometimes it is an overwhelming feeling of loss of control. I don't want to be jealous of these girls anymore. I know men who look at ultra-thin women like them and are instantly repulsed. They say they enjoy women who look healthy, who are more heavy than more thin. However, pornography and films show that the majority of men do not feel that way. I don't want to be of the world anymore, I just don't know how not to be.

Its time to get it all out

Has there ever been anything in your life that you thought, 'There's no way this can have this much affect on me without it staying in my life forever'? I know that's a disjointed sentence, but I'm not sure how else to say it. Music is like that for me. Strings, especially, however of all the things I learned, I never got to learn the cello like I wanted. I played a plethora of instruments my public school days. I started on piano at 3(ish). Then clarinet, then trombone. Followed by flute, piccolo, alto sax, bari sax, soprano sax, bassoon, oboe, guitar, timpani, marimba/xylophone/vibraphone, and an assortment of percussion instruments i.e. triangle, maracas, tambourine, etc. Since I sum up the three keyboard percussion instruments as one (because lets face it, when you learn how to use mallets, you can play all 3) that's a total of 13 instruments. Half of which I taught myself. AND I played all of them in a performance. That's it though. That's where my bragging rights end. I am officially the girl that peaked in high school. It was a safety net.

Don't get me wrong, I was a mess in high school. I was trying my very best to be as anorexic and/or bulemic as possible, and initially I was marginally successful at both. In the end, I was incredibly successful. I wasn't even that heavy, as most of those stories go. At this point I was probably 5'5 and maybe 120 pounds, which according to any weight chart, and any frame size, is small. I was surrounded by friends who were 4+ inches shorter than me, and I wondered why I couldn't be as thin as them. It got worse as I discovered self-mutiliation...i.e. cutting. I know initially it was for attention - its not like I was ignored at my home, but I was in the shadow of an older, much more talented brother that I made worse than it actually was. However, after I got started, it became an addiction to me. All of it. Counting calories. Purging whatever I did eat. Pretending to eat. Hiding my food. As an adult I've tried to look back and say, nah I wasn't that bad. But in reality I was a lot worse than I think I ever intended to be. I started cutting in about October of my sophomore year of high school. When I joined drumline, I knew no one. I was asked by the pit instructor to join and play timpani. I don't know how he knew who I was, maybe because my brother was in drumline before me. In drumline I made a few friends, and, with no amount of luck and all because of God's love for me, became close with two people who had more faith than anyone I had ever met. They became the best friends I could've asked for. We were inseparable for 2 years. They both realized I had a problem after our first trip out of town. I wasn't very good at hiding my anorexia and bulemia. I rarely ate, and when it was necessary, I immediately went to the bathroom after. It was pretty pathetic. I was disgusted with myself, but I couldn't stop. I ended up lying to my parents and going to a Baptist church with William, because my father grew up Catholic and would've popped a blood vessel. However, in hindsight I should've known it'd be just as dangerous to lie to him about it. In any case, going to church really helped me. And when I got caught lying, my parents realized that I could've been lying about drinking or doing drugs or having sex (which I didn't do at all in high school) and they let me explore my faith, within reason. I ended up going to a Lutheran church that the assistant band/choir director and his wife attended, and found a wonderful family and faith there. Some of my best friendships came out of the darkest time in my life. I got help with my addictions, because at that point, that's what they had become. Obsessions. Mountains in my path of life. I became a new person. I was happy. I was passionate. I was capable of anything. I became more involved in writing. In playing music. In learning. I was happiest in my life when I was surrounded by and enveloped in my faith, my God. I yearn for those days. That is my weakness. I look back and long for those relationships. I am in the present, wishing for the past, and preventing my future. I digress.

The whole point of this was to say that I know that I'm not using any of my talents. I am not even sure what my talents are anymore. I enjoy writing. Photography. Singing. I don't play any instruments anymore. Occasionally I'll play the piano at my parents' house, but my guitar sits it my 'guest room' and collects dust. It comes out for Christmas when we do carol nights, but that's really it. What does God want me to do? Does He really think that sitting in a cube all day with people who treat me as inferior and incapable is where I will be best used? I use a fraction of brain power for this job. Granted, it is easy money, but I am not challenged. I'm not making any difference. I'm not using anything that God has blessed me with in my daily living. I spend 40 hours a week in a place that takes me for granted. However, I'm locked into it with the amount of bills that I have to pay at this moment in my life. I feel stuck. I feel like my body could just burst apart with frustration, anguish, irritation, and sadness. I'm 24 years old and have nothing to show for my life. I just want to cry. Heave sobs, cry so heavily it hurts. I am tired of being strong. Of keeping the facade, of making sure that I am always happy so I don't irritate someone else. Have you ever just wanted to crumble?

I just want to crumble.

Falling Back

I find myself falling into the same feelings I've fallen back into so many times before. I realize that now, which is progress, when before I would deny it. Seeing how long I can go between meals. Being satisfied that my stomach is grumbling and I still keep from filling it. Counting every calorie. Filling myself with water, unsweetened tea, black coffee and diet soda. Zero calories. Full stomach. My weight is at an all time high. I yo-yo back and forth between binge eating because I'm stressed or confused about life, and then micromanaging my food and nearly starving myself to gain control of an otherwise 'out of control' situation, whether it really is, or that is my perception does not matter. I have a man in my life who is amazing. He is understanding, and supportive, and determined to show me how confident and beautiful and intelligent I am without worrying about the number on a scale. No one knows the extent of my relapse. I don't really count it as a relapse anyway, because I am still eating. My worst day was Friday. I had a quarter of a chicken enchilada around 4:30. Diet coke, coffee, water, wine, and a snifter of Jack Daniels at a buddy's house. I'm trying to figure it out and come back to normalcy with it. However, its really easy to rejoice in the wrong things.

I know what I need to do, and logically I know what I'm doing makes absolutely no sense. However, my finances are spinning out of control, my weight is already out of control, I'm head over heels for a man in my life who I know shares my affection but is moving, and doesn't know when, which means the relationship aspect is out of my control, I want to quit smoking but it will make me gain more weight, I hate my job but need the money, so I cannot change, and for all those things, I panic and think, well fine. I'm going to get some semblance of control and order back in my life. How? Food. I think just getting all of this out helps. It makes me realize that what I'm doing is ridiculous, and there are better, healthier ways to deal with my issues. I just don't know how to go about doing them.

I went to church and, ironically enough, after reading http://stufffchristianslike.blogspot.com all week last week, service was about the Prodigal's Son. Pretty incredible. I've tried talking to God more, but I feel awkward. I know He's not laughing at me or judging me, but I feel like if I were Him I would be. Which is why He's so amazing, and I cannot grasp his immense love and grace. I'm struggling, I guess is what I'm saying. I put on a good front, and yes, there are lots of things in my life that are good. But there are a lot of things in my life that could be better also.