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.

On the surface

Looking through people's blogs I find that my blog name is neither creative nor witty. Which isn't necessarily an accurate reflection of me, because I usually try to (and succeed at) being creative and witty. Sometimes at the same time. It makes me wonder, if I had a catchier blog name, would people actually read what I'm writing? And if people actually read what I'm writing, will it be beneficial to them? Will they be able to relate? We live in such a self-consumed world now anyway that I don't want this blog to be another narcissistic venue in my life. I enjoy writing. It is a way to be who I am. To look back at times in my life when I was broken, sad, happy, in love, angry, and to see how I have grown. As a person, and as a writer. Not that I think I'm an incredible writer now. But I'm light-years ahead of where I was. And yes, I just made that reference. Keep your grumbles to a minimum, it seemed appropriate.

Has there ever been a time in your life where you knew that no one in your social circle knew everything about you? I am having one of those times in my life. I know that of all the people that I know, no one knows the seriousness of my financial state. Or my mental self-loathing. People may have a general idea that I'm struggling with money, and most people know I'm unhappy with my appearance. The only one I can cry out to in complete honesty is God. I've had moments in my life like this before, and tried to do it alone. It is impossible. It became such a burden for me to carry, I broke under the pressure. I fell back into sin, into casual sex and binge drinking. Looking, scrambling for any sort of acceptance, of acknowledgment that I was worth something, and finding falseness everywhere I looked. I knew where to go to find peace, and I didn't. I was stubborn, foolish, prideful, arrogant, all of the above. I didn't want to admit that I was wrong, that I couldn't do it on my own, and take responsibility for all of the brokenness I created.

I have two cats. Their names are Lily and Nico. (Trust me, this has relevance I swear.) Nico is my small, spry, black, stealth ninja cat. She slinks around the house and sneaks up on me when I least expect it. Hops on the back of the couch, the kitchen counter, even opens the door to the bathroom. She's a ninja, I mean it. She has her moments, usually right when I get home and when I go to bed, when she wants attention. But normally she's ok on her own. Lily is my big, overweight, lazy, cute cuddly cat. She will take love from anyone. She has a habit of sleeping on her back with her legs splayed awkwardly that makes company question her sanity. Its ok, she does that all the time. On occasion, I'll be at home with my laptop, lying on the couch reading or writing, and she will jump onto my chest out of nowhere. She will nuzzle up under my arms, forcing my computer back, and rub her head against my face. If I get a phone call or text message and try to respond, she interferes. Basically makes me stop everything that I'm doing and pay attention to her. Its cute, and I appreciate the love, but sometimes its incredibly inconvenient.

Sometimes I think God is like that. At some point, He starts to pull at your heart, and eventually He gets right in your face and says something like 'Hey, I'm here. I've been waiting for you to come back to Me, and I think now is a good time for you to stop what you're doing and pay attention.' That happened last night, in regards to my previous post. After I read that and posted, Lily got cuddly and made me put my computer down. I thought to myself, well if that's not the biggest sign to take some quiet time and listen to God, I don't know what is. I can't describe what I felt last night. Immense pressure on my chest and an uncontrollable stream of tears. No, it wasn't a heart attack, or Lily. It wasn't an uncomfortable pressure, just a sensation of ease, even in the throes of breaking apart at the seams.

I don't know what the point of all this is. I just plan on continuing to listen, to learn, to grow, and live in His grace. I know I will never be the person I'm supposed to be without His help. Its getting over myself to ask that will continue to be the struggle.

Flying oustide the merry-go-round

In life God doesn't give you the people you want. Instead, He gives you the people you need. To teach you, to hurt you, to love you, and to make you exactly who you are meant to be. I love that quote.

So maybe, through this difficult portion of my life, I will learn to trust fewer people but trust more, love fewer people but love more, and be grateful for the people I have in my life. Maybe I'll learn that things are not always what they seem, that words can get in the way of how I really feel, that the most important things in life aren't things, and, that I deserve respect and support from my friends just as much as the next guy. That I should have the opportunity to be myself, no questions asked. Maybe I'll learn to just let go.

Maybe...

For now I am still flying outside the merry-go-round, gripping my fingers around the bar, white-knuckled, clinging to the past I once loved and felt safe in, afraid to let go and see what the future has in store for me. Maybe I'll land in the sand, unscathed, a little dirty, but capable of picking myself up and brushing off the dust. Maybe it will be the ground, hard and spongy at the same time, a little more damaging, a few bumps and bruises, but no open wounds. I'll get up and walk the soreness off, and remember how much it hurt and not go back. Even still, I could land hard on the concrete. Scrape my body up, bleed, and cry in pain. But even in the worst case, even with open wounds for everyone to see, wounds heal. In time, everything heals. I've started to let the grip slip just a bit, and reluctantly but obviously take steps forward. But this I know for sure: even without landing on the concrete, the scars of this moment in my life will last forever. And those scars will be a blessing and a curse. A blessing in showing me I had the courage to let go, but a curse in reminding me what I had to let go of.