Tuesday, September 13, 2011

About ME-warning, long post

Welcome! Welcome! Today I wanted to tell my story. It’s embarrassing and hurts, yes. But I need to tell it. If I don’t tell it then it will be hidden away out of fear and fear holds us back. The last thing I want at this point in my life is to be held back. Also, as a side note-I’m still churning through some brain fog as a result of the low-carb flu so I apologize if any posts written in this time span (say, around September 6th 2011 through a few weeks later) are a little bit hard to follow. If you aren’t sure on something I’m trying to say, by all means, tell me in the comments and I’ll try to be more concise!

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Where to start? Hmmm…. I guess at the beginning. When my mom was pregnant with me over 22 years ago she was diagnosed with gestational diabetes (I can just hear my DH going diabeetus). They found out about it because I had stopped moving as much, meaning that my tiny, forming pancreas was pumping out insulin for both of us. She was promptly put on the meds to help her through and I was born! A giant newborn that needed to be pulled out of her induced mother with forceps because I was stubborn, even back then. My mom? She still has diabetes, amongst other dis-eases.

Then I got a bit older, a happy baby from what I’m told. That is, until I went to preschool from about age 2 to a little after age 3. I was pulled out of the preschool when my parents discovered I was being molested almost daily. My mom says this is when I started putting on weight. I still have a bit of PTSD from it and have memories of it. I’ve been pretty introverted ever since.

From there I went through a few moves and ended up in elementary school. The first time I ever remember thinking I was fat was in 2nd grade. And because of my preconceived notions of what fat people are supposed to do I stopped enjoying play and PE. I started being the kid who sat around with friends and talked instead of playing tag. I was also the kid who walked home to an empty house and made herself snacks and dinners because her parents were at work. And since I didn’t know how to cook on a stove I ate microwave food. This happened again in 6th grade when my parents would stay up late at night trying to finish the papers to own their own home. Also in 6th grade I started my period. Within a year it was clotty and HEAVY.

In 7th grade I was constantly teased for being so large. I try to block out 7th grade for that very reason. I recall having an argument with a now-ex-friend and walking past her while she made thunder noises to my every footfall. I remember being so freaked out to go into the girls bathrooms for fear that I’d be teased that I would hold it all day until I got home, just in time to wet myself at my front door. And it only furthered my embarrassment. This was also the year that I started contemplating running away and I knew it wasn’t me thinking it. I ended up diagnosed with clinical depression.

By 9th grade I felt much better adjusted. I no longer feared the bathroom as badly. I’d just go in and get out as quick as possible. I tried to look my best but frequently just wore whatever t-shirt, an orange sweatshirt, and jeans. It was my self-imposed uniform. I developed a huge crush in 9th grade and ended up being really good friend with the guy, until he refused to date me at the end of the year. I thought it was because of my size (I still think it was but I haven’t asked him yet-I’m still barely brave enough to have him as my Facebook friend, lol). For the next 4 years I’d always worry about what he was thinking and try to either demonize him in my head so I’d feel better or try to ignore him. This was also the year that I came out as bi-sexual. I had had a crush on a tomboyish bisexual girl in my choir and decided there was no reason to hide my sexuality.

10th grade found me my first boyfriend. He was really nice, cute, and funny but he was gay. He frequently would tell me that he would never love another woman, that he was gay except for me. Of course I was going through a gender crisis at this time so it felt odd (for reference- I now consider myself pansexual and gender neutral). We were on again, off again for 2 years.

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Took this in the summer between sophomore and junior year when I went to Australia as a student ambassador.

In 11th grade, during an off again phase with my first boyfriend, I dated a senior. She was a very smart girl but I was kind of blindsided by the whole relationship. I remember just being told that I was her girlfriend. We went farther than I ever had but I couldn’t help being so uncomfortable in my own body that I couldn’t get past hers. Our relationship was her way of coming out of the closet.

Senior year I was single and a homecoming queen nominee for the Youth Educating Against Homophobia club. I had a female escort who is lesbian and a male metrosexual but very heterosexual escort. I was taller than both of them, lol. And, man, were we a sight to be seen. They were both dressed up and in the halftime band show while I was sitting there in my junior year prom dress holding a crystal wand and wearing a tiara on my inch long hair! I started smoking at 18 and ended at 19. Now I'm allergic. I also started drinking about 17 and have simply developed a distaste for it since my Gorgeous is here.

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Just outta high school I met my husband. He is amazing and I was just so surprised that someone wouldn’t care about my size! We were very quick in that we met in May of one year, he moved into my parents’ house in June, got kicked out in July, we moved into our own place with roommates in August, got engaged in September, had a miscarriage/scare in October, moved out of that place in December, and had set our date for June of the next year!

Then I got cold feet. I wondered how someone so utterly amazing could want me, a fat tub of lard. My parents called the wedding off about a week before our date because of my cold feet. It was a dark time. I ended up cheating on him in August of that year, despite us being still engaged. I felt that there was no commitment anymore since the wedding had been called off. And this guy was saying such nice things about me being pretty-not that I didn’t hear them from my then-fiancé. After that night I moved all of my stuff out of the house and back into my parents.

When my then-fiancé came home the house was very empty. I got the phone call asking what happened. I came over and told him. I broke his heart and my own. So much that neither of us has gotten over it. So much that these are some of the toughest words I’ve put out there. I was so depressed that I thought I was worth nothing. We went to counseling within a few days and he told me he forgave me. {…hold on…} It hurt because I thought no one could forgive such an indiscretion.

Obviously we got back together. It was tough. It still is. I betrayed his trust and I can never take back what I did. In November of that year we were happy enough together that we decided to not use a condom and let things fall where they may. Well, we were rabbits back then (still would be if we could) and I am a fertile myrtle. So I told my then-fiancé at Thanksgiving that I thought I may be pregnant because I was feeling different and nauseous. About a week later I took a test that confirmed it.

The hormone changes did nothing for me. I couldn’t stand the smell of work. Eventually I got laid off (wait, they said they’d write it as if I quit so I could reapply later) from my job. This was in January of last year. Yes, I filed against them and no, I didn’t win. I worked for an Indian Casino and Native Americans are under their own government.

In February I blew it. I was so hormonally driven, so depressed, and felt so worthless that I fell into the thought pattern that my parents had. So I told him not to call me again, called the police on him for abuse (not true-that was the thought pattern I had fallen into), and called animal control on him for not taking care of his birds. Nothing came out of the police except it being put on the records. My parents went to his work and told him to stop talking to me or they will put a restraining order on him. I ended up so depressed that I contemplated how I would settle my affairs after the baby was here so that I could kill myself but not the baby. I still cry thinking about all of this. It still hurts very, very badly.

I got put on antidepressants for bipolar 2 disorder. They made me so loopy-weird that I stopped taking them without the doctors (or my parents) knowledge within two weeks. During this depressing time I also decided upon Gorgeous’s name-thinking that my then-ex wouldn’t be very involved and that he didn’t deserve to choose. At the beginning of March I heard that my then-ex had bought a safe car so that he could travel with our child safely. So I decided that I would place a bow in a box for him on his birthday with our baby’s sex when I found out a few days before his birthday. I ended up contacting him sooner than that. He was so mistrustful (for good reason) that he documented our every text just in case. We eventually met up and talked. I apologized and broke down. And then I found out that he was with someone else.

This hurt worse than any of the other hurts and all I could think was that I now understood how he felt when I cheated. Somehow we ended up together again intimately and that same night the other female came over and tried to be with him. He pushed her out the door (he had broken up with her a few days prior) and she figured out that I was in the other room. We have only seen her one since then in a chance encounter (on my birthday no less).

A few weeks later it was his birthday and we had found out that Gorgeous was a girl. We decided to go visit his sister so I could meet her for the first time. It was one weekend and in that weekend we got married in Reno and I felt the baby kick for the very first time in response to her daddy’s voice. When I got back I told my parents I was married and got kicked out to live with him.

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Things were generally on the up and up from there. Eventually my parents and husband could tolerate each other for me and the baby. In my third trimester I started having severe reactions to gluten and whey. I cut them out only to eat the alternatives-gluten free grains and soy substitutes. This prompted my passion for nutrition. I stabilized my weight gain in my third trimester when most women are supposed to gain the most-purely by cutting out gluten and whey. I thought it was the baby having the reactions and not myself (though the doctors disagreed of course).

While I was hoping for a natural birth I ended up getting induced a few days before my due date. My husband was right in my face full of concern for me and was the biggest supporter I could ever have. Next child we have I want only him in the delivery room. I couldn’t have done it without him. Could Not Have. After a day of Pitocin I was checked and had only dilated 1cm. I had been confined to the bed and feel that this was probably why. But after that pain for that long I consented to getting a C-section. We were worried that she would be too big and end up with shoulder dysplasia. The next day I was thrown into the delivery room and couldn’t stop sobbing long enough for them to place the epidural without much bruising. I was and still am scared of hospitals. Finally they let my husband into the room and they delivered my baby girl. Once she was out and I stopped crying tears of fear and started crying tears of extreme joy I looked to him and told him to go with her while they cleaned her. Once I was reunited with her I wouldn’t let the nurses take care of her-I had to do it. I even co-slept with her on my chest despite their concerns.

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We had problems latching so she ended up on formula while I pumped. I had to drink Mothers Milk Tea to get my milk to come in but after a month of pumping I stopped. It was so thankless a job that I just didn’t do it anymore despite my urge to breastfeed (which I still have frequently). In the first month home I lost 45lbs. Between losing the pregnancy stuff (placenta, etc.), pumping, and simply not feeding myself enough I lost a ton of weight. And my Gorgeous started having colicky issues early on which I intuitively felt were gas pains. So I fought everyone and got her switched to soy formula. Still wasn’t the best on her tummy but was better than all of the other stuff.

As time went on we became more and more of a family. We tried to feed her at 3mo per my mother’s advice but felt it was wrong so we stopped. I eventually found out about Baby Led Weaning and tried it. It worked. We were all eating whatever we had in the house and whatever we could find. Sometimes entire meals would be mashed potatoes.
In January of this year my father’s father died. While my parents were up north dealing with the situation up there I was house sitting their house and it got robbed. I came in to find many family heirlooms gone. I quickly searched the house to be sure no one was there and to see the damage. I had to call my parents and tell them what happened. I also called the police and my husband, daughter and I slept in the living room together with a gun by my husband to be safe.

In March my father’s mother went into the hospital. When she came out she ended up living with my parents while her husband filed a divorce. She is having to be forced to move this month because of all of the stress and negativity it is putting on the house.

The last night of April, when April turns to May, my day attempted suicide. My mom and I found him but I saw him first. They both say I picked him up by myself. I don’t know, I just remember being very scared and having a lot of adrenaline pumping in my veins.

Also around April or May we found out that our then-roommate was watching minors in incestual relationships on his computer. Because of what I had been through and what we didn’t want our daughter to go through we went through the process to evict him. Only problem was that once he got evicted we had to reapply and didn’t make enough to stay there. Part of the problem had been that I had had to quit my job because I was having asthma attacks to the bleach there.

So around June I moved into my parents’ house with Gorgeous and my husband moved into his parents’ house. Quickly we established a routine that allowed me one day to myself and one night with him. In August we celebrated Gorgeous’s first birthday and I was told that I was not bipolar so I got to strike that from my record. At the end of August I was told I had ganglion cysts on my ankles and one hand and that it was not depression but GAD instead. And this is how it’s been for awhile. I found Primal living around March of this year (our 1 year anniversary) after blog hopping through 3NL. I found 3NL because of my minimalism search when I was nesting. I’m still an aspiring minimalist and it helps with the transient lifestyle I’m currently forced to live. And somewhere between researching tiny living, primal eating, and dreaming of the home I will someday have I found frugality. As in the lifestyle associated with it, not just the act of being frugal.

And I feel that these three go hand in hand. Usually… So, today, I am in the beginning of my primal journey, going to be moving in with my husband and his parents at the end of the month, and am still dreaming of one day having a rental or tiny home to call our own.

On September 6, 2011 I took my own personal Primal Challenge. At the end of the month I am being threatened by my doctor to be put on blood pressure medicine. I am already on an as needed beta blocker for my heart palpitations. I am on 10000IU of Vitamin D and take 2 allergy meds a day. I turned 22 on September 4th. I am a mom of one lovely Gorgeous and a wife to an amazing man. And I am going to counseling to work on heart healing. I have so much tied up in my heart that I need to heal what is in my heart and dump that baggage in order to be successful with dumping actual weight. This is part of why I have written so much in this one post.

I truly believe in a whole healing approach. I am gathering my supporters and key players around me. So far they are my DD, DH, counselor, doctor, nutritionist, and the guys who run my local CrossFit. If you can’t heal your head or your heart I don’t believe you can heal your body long term. Stress truly has that profound of an effect on you. So, here comes the stats you have been so kind to wait for:
Day 1: 9/6/11
Stats:
Upper arm-17"
Chest-60"
Waist-58"
Hips-68"
Upper Thigh-34.25"
Calf-23.75"
Weight- 390.1 lbs.
Height-5' 11.75"
BMI- 53.9
Age-22

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I put my story out there to try to give you all hope and inspiration. I’ve had to eat potatoes for an entire meal, I’ve been molested, I’ve seen death and faced it multiple times, I’ve cheated, I’ve felt cheated, I have a family. There are so many things that I hope you can relate to from my story that I want you to be able to see that all of you can overcome things ONE DAY AT A TIME.

2 comments:

  1. Thank you for sharing. You sound like an absolutely amazing person.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you nameless wonder. I appreciate the support.

    ReplyDelete