Tag Archives: coping

Consequence for my decisions

Too often I had been told that my giving nature was a bad thing, then I found out that being nice and giving and serving others isn’t a bad thing, it’s using it on the wrong people that’s bad.

“But, Kelly everyone is deserving of kindness”, yes that is true. Kindness like love is to be freely given, but that doesn’t mean it is taken advantage of either.

I went through counseling over the last 4 years, been off the couch for 6 months now (whoa!), I would always hold firm to the belief that my giving spirit is just who I am and it makes me feel like me. It’s my happiness. My peace. My thing.

My counselor would reassure me that it’s okay to want to do for people, but not if the people I am doing for are hurting me, Will always hurt me, and have hurt me. That there was a population of people that would appreciate my “goodheartedness”.

I didn’t understand him at first, but then I began to realize that he was right. That the wrong people to serve were the very people who were hurting me in the first place. I thought I understood him then, but boy do I really understand now.

You see this past Thanksgiving after making the decision that I would only focus this gift on those who truly need this gift and will appreciate it. To use this gift of service and feeding and healing for the betterment of our society, not just a few in my life who decided it was theirs and theirs only, not even mine.

So on Thanksgiving we loaded up the Tesla and headed over to a mission in Chicago who I just found out had had some very serious discrimination allegations made, and because they don’t accept state or federal money (Catholic Mission) they are not being held to the same standards and are allowed to freely discriminate against who can even get a meal. Now because of this I refuse to take anything there that I cannot distribute to tent cities in and around Chicago, Northwest Indiana, and anywhere else I feel called…Detroit has been on my mind a lot lately, I wonder what’s up there…

You see how passionate I am about feeding people? I can’t even talk about Thanksgiving without ranting about the unfair discrimination from a place that claims to be founded and ran on “Christian” principles! I am a Christian and I don’t discriminate, I’m all inclusive, and that’s what Jesus taught me, “…red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world”…

Anyway back to Thanksgiving…

I had asked my little family if they would mind if instead of me cooking a full Thanksgiving meal since I knew we’d be having a feast later in the day, and we always feel bad when we are already too stuffed to eat once we get there, and I wasn’t feeling very well the last 8-12 months, so I just wasn’t up to cooking a big meal. My 3 loves were absolutely fine with it and actually really loved my replacement idea.

I thought, “Hey let’s get some blessing bags and necessities for the homeless donated and we will go pass them out on Thanksgiving and the items not accepted on the streets we will give at the mission.” They were excited to do so. We collected so many items and when we got to Chicago we found that the people I usually collect and they help me distribute for were already taken care of by very generous people. This made me my heart smile so big!

We had a great time! We really did. It was such an awesome way to spend thanksgiving morning. We headed back home, rested, and just like expected a feast later at my loves dad’s house. It really was a blessed day. I had been wanting to do this on Thanksgiving for some time now, so glad I got to see that the need is before Thanksgiving, and like we had been doing after the 1st of the new year.

By now you’re probably wondering what the problem is. You’re probably asking yourself, “Wasn’t this about you and you’re giving nature being bad?” Yes, yes it is.

You see this great day that obviously no one can see the problem in this day, this day was a huge turning point for me. Actually July 4th, 2019 was a huge turning point in my life. I mean once you’ve been to Pike’s Peak, are a donut at 14,000 ft elevation, and been proposed to, in what is what I believe to be the most healing and magical place in the world, there really is nothing in your life you cannot do.

View of the Rocky Mountains from Colorado Spring Colorado, July 4th 2019.

July 4th, 2019 that mountain changed my life in more ways than one. It probably actually started the day before during the trip up to the Alpine Visitor Center…yikes! Alpine Visitor Center road or Pike’s Peak Highway, Pike’s Peak for sure!!!!

Those mountains, making it to the top of mountain peaks is a very healing experience, trust me. For me I conquered a fear of heights, I even went back on 6/22/2020 and drove up to Pike’s Peak (mile 16 mandatory shuttle due to construction), I did it. No one else. I drove down too. Huge victory over my life right there.

That day my love, the love of my life proposed and made all those promises he’d been promising for so long a reality. I had waited so long. I was so shocked and so surprised when I realized he wasn’t just being an ass with that donut as a proposal, that he actually had a ring in his boot. I cannot even remember what he said, just he was red and tears running down his face too. He changed my life once again that day.

Little did we both know that, that proposal and that mountain would trigger so much in both of us, but for me another huge wave of healing was about to start unbeknownst to me.

When I got home and went to see my little sister, my mother, and my step-father. My mother she is literally just the woman who made me in my eyes now. If you’ve been following along and continue to follow along you’ll understand why. She wasn’t very interested as usual and had to steer the conversation a way that was beneficial to her. All she cared about was the size of the stone and her new grand baby. Not all that it took for me to get up that mountain to get that ring that I didn’t know about.

So I kept working in therapy and at home to keep putting boundaries up with her and he, to keep, “keeping it businesslike” so I wouldn’t be hurt. I was also working through some very real current hurts on top of past hurts and having her continue to hurt me was not allowable. So I kept working at it and was getting better with it with her.

A few days before Thanksgiving she text me to ask if I was cooking dinner. I told her that, “I decided that my family and I would spend the day serving the homeless in Chicago and that my little sister is welcome to join us if she’d like to”.

Side note I have a terrible time making decisions for me or anyone else. I am not looking for things to do with people or looking to tell people what to do because I cannot even decide what I should eat most days.

I swear I feel as am I’m writing this you and I are learning something about me at the same time.

Making decisions for me is so hard. I feel like every time I make a choice someone is let down. Someone isn’t happy. That I hurt someone in someway and I end up paying the price for it in the long run. So why like anything? Why want to do anything? Why be any different then the people around me? Because if I am there will be big consequences for it.

This decision that was very hard for me to make and I immediately felt guilt for, and actually caused problems in my family, from the moment I made it, because I just knew. I just knew what her wrath would be like.

Just after Thanksgiving I was scheduled for surgery and the day before I had asked her a question. And the conversation went south fast. I kept my calm though because I wanted her to see she couldn’t get me worked up. I wanted my growth to be known. Then she said something that set me so far back in my progress.

It set me so far back! I don’t think anyone even realizes how far it set me back. I mean behaviors have gotten worse, feelings of insecurity are taking over, and it’s all because of her I’m sure. That day before my surgery exactly 5 months since I came down off that beautiful, beautiful mountain, my life was broken again.

That day she told me, “your brother and you better be damned lucky I didn’t give you up for adoption when I knew I couldn’t take care of you anymore!”

Soul crushed!

In that moment as my youngest son, who I adopted along with his brother, stood by my side as slowly made my way to the floor in tears.

“No she I am not in anyway lucky! All I ever wanted was a better home. To not be hungry. To not be hurt. To be loved. To have an opportunity. I wasn’t lucky with her.”

I was so mad and I responded with, “No we are not lucky, lucky is what my sons were, they got an opportunity to be loved by a woman who would walk through heaven and hell with them; not use, abuse, and abandon them”.

I kept her at a very long distance. Even though she is only 4 minutes down the road. I cannot wait to move away from her and here. It’s a lot of mental effort to keep her at a “long distance” when she is so close (again something no one gives me credit for because they don’t know how much work it takes).

It doesn’t mean I don’t feel the effects. I believe I’m grieving more than anything. I think I realize that now. I recently told her and my step-father to take that “long fucking walk off that short fucking pier”, to use their quote against them. Maybe I should have told them to, “tie a rope with a rock to your foot so you’ll sink faster”—assholes—yes I used to hear that whenever I’d voice a complaint or make a request or whatever, amongst other things. I told them, “You don’t get to deny what you did to me, either of you. None of it. You don’t get to do that to me. You don’t get to tell people that my truth is a lie when you were the ones doing and allowing it. You can take your shame and guilt to the grave with you. I’m tired of you controlling my life like this. You don’t get to ruin it anymore. You’ve ruined my life already now I want you to stop doing it. I want to marry the love of my life, not have him resent me. I want to be happy, and as long as I even know you exist I just cannot be free from your guilt and shame. You don’t get this control over me anymore.”

A couple days later on 6/22/2020 when we were supposed to be camping at home, but it was cancelled due to a storm cell coming in, we were spontaneously in Colorado, this time I drove to the top of that mountain. I may have liked at the top, but I made it up and down. I literally moved another mountain in my life. I closed a door and gave myself permission to lock it and throw away the key.

If there is one thing I have learned to be true living a life solely based on the faith that God will get you through is not easy, but it is truly the only thing I’ve ever had. I’m pretty certain that God said forgiveness is for me not for them. They have to seek their own forgiveness and I cannot forgive them if their ultimate sin. All I can do is forgive, try to reconcile, and if reconciliation fails, know that God had that planned all along too.

Now I’ve climbed that mountain again. This time with the love of my life in the passenger seat and my youngest son in the back. My oldest at home starting the newest chapter in his book with a new job, and me looking forward to actually planning a wedding. I cannot wait to be dancing with him that night. I have so many slow songs planned because that’s the only way I’ll get him in the dance floor, and that’s okay cause his arms are the safest and nicest place to be.

I have a couple insecurities that clearly just decided to read their ugly head again, probably because of what I’m dealing with in another area of life. I’m sorry that they do get the best of me and they cause me not to trust, but once you’ve been hurt a certain way before it can take a really long time to believe it won’t happen again.

So when the consequence of making a choice is big dramatic over the top responses like this, it’s no wonder I fear that every choice I make will be the end of the world. I am trying to fight this feeling so much. I want to make choices. I want to be able to ask for the things I need or want even. But I’m scared to. I know that it causes unnecessary stress, but what if I let my guard down all the way? What then?

Do I get the love and help that I need or do I get ridiculed and demeaned for not being able to do it myself? I’m not sure yet? I’m trying to figure it out. I guess I just need people willing to be in my life a lifetime showing me that it’s okay for me to want and get my basic of basic needs met. I try so darn hard to only do for myself. I don’t want anyone’s money or guilt.

These people have made it such a bad thing for me to have decisions or a life that wasn’t theirs. I fear that if I don’t plan a wedding the way everyone expects it to be then there will be terrible consequences. I imagine people taking about how much money was probably spent or judging the decor or whatever. I fear that people will think I’m spoiled or the center of attention. I fear all of things and so much more. Over the last year and having to do what I have had to do with my parents, it’s been a very hard topic to discuss for us.

I know that this most recent trip up and down that mountain have lead me to say and to do some things I wouldn’t normally do, but I’m glad I got it out of my system quick, because I have way better things to do in my life than to let my insecurities drive my actions.

I used to be secure in my new life, because I knew that God sent it to me, he promised me long before I got here. I’m pretty certain I seen my love in my dreams before I met him. I think because I still hadn’t released myself of them yet I couldn’t be truly free of it. Now I feel like there is nothing I can’t do. Like I should be saying, “Watch me now bitches…” but I won’t, 😂

I’m excited to plan a wedding that isn’t cheap for cheap sake. After a very wonderful and sweet woman heard me talking to her daughter and just listening, she wouldn’t let me pray before I left her house. I knelt beside her as she held my hand, and some how she knew exactly what to pray, and I the word that came out of her mouth could have only have been put on her heart by the one who truly knows mine.

She’s right you know? I am loved by so many, but my insecurities are keeping me from that love. If you all could just remember to remind me that my insecurity is showing it will help me. Imma huge “reality therapy fan”, don’t sugar coat and please don’t be vague.

Because of my mothers inability to live correctly, my step-father and his inability to love appropriately, and my “sperm-donor” (bio father) being in and out of prison as a child and him and his sins, it’s kind of hard to trust that anyone will ever just love you correctly no strings attached. That they’ll just love you expecting nothing and keep you forever. It’s so hard to feel worthy of that security. That stability. It’s a natural desire that all of us have. So congratulations I’m normal, I guess.

I can only try to fight my fears of it all being a “waste of time, energy, and money, because it’s not going to last forever anyway, because no one ever loves me forever or ever truly loved me anyway, they just love what they can get from me…” type thing. The thing is though until recently I don’t think I actually had the “freedom” I needed to be free of that mindset.

I do now think I have the freedom from the very things that were holding me back, from being free of this. Does it mean I won’t have hard days were it’s easy to feel these things? No. It just means I’ll cope and move on, not let it run my life.

If there is one thing my love is that I am not it is patience. I want my problems to be solved now. Right now. I want to do the work hardcore and it to perfect the skill instantly. In reality though this is a process and even if he and my sons don’t believe it I am so thankful that I am going through. I’m sorry it’s scary sometimes, but remember how scary it used to be?

Remember how terrifying it was when I decided to let the three of you really love me? Thanks for going through all this with me. We moved another mountain in my life, together, again as a family, and I’m so thankful.

Now here’s to wedding planning and not dreading it. She doesn’t get that control anymore. I was excited a long time ago at the thought of marrying my love and even though we’ve done life together and it’s not been easy, I’d still choose him over and over again, so I guess that’s saying something.

I have learned that the ones worth my energy and “good heartedness” are the ones who God intended me to love enough to change their lives. I will continue to dedicate myself to my charitable business to end homelessness.

I cannot wait to have raised enough money to start building my first homeless rehabilitation and prevention center, free of discrimination of any kind.

For now I’ll keep sleeping very little to figure out how to raise the money, where the needs are, feed, and connect with the homeless and so many others in need.

I knew I was called to work with the homeless since I was 7, so I will use this gift to help those who truly need it, and that is what makes some people mad. That’s okay because this is what I’m called to do. I’m called to love and to serve others. Such a fulfilled life it can be.

Allowing myself to feel this live and to be living in my true spirit of giving I am allowing myself to feel loved and secure again…slowly…but I’m getting there again. Working with the homeless and planning a wedding seem to me a great way to focus on love.

Insecurity

Tiring.

Exhausting.

What’s real?

What isn’t?

Whats he think?

Whats she saying?

What are they looking at?

Not good enough.

Not pretty enough.

Too loud.

Too quiet.

I’ve heard them both.

Too kind.

Too gentle.

Too caring.

Too compassionate.

Too aggressive.

Too loud.

I’ve heard it all.

Too ugly.

Too fat.

Too tall.

Too “boyish”.

Too dramatic.

Talks too much.

Laughs too loud.

Loves too hard.

Too faithful.

Too loyal.

Cries too much.

Know it all.

User.

Loser.

Fatty.

Bitch.

Spoiled.

Brat.

Worthless.

No good.

Ditzy.

Dumb.

Blonde.

What happened to my name?

I’m certain they forgot it.

I love you.

Buy me this.

I love you.

Do this.

No!

Fine you don’t love me.

Their voices.

Their words.

My head.

What do I see in this picture?

When I look at this picture I feel like I’m staring at a stranger. I mean I clearly know it’s me, but I feel like I don’t know her at all.

When I look at her I feel the same emptiness I felt when I was her. I feel like I look at her and am instantly reminded that when I used to be her, I’d look in the mirror and imagine the new me. When I would look in the mirror though I felt like I was a skinny girl trapped in a fat body. I wanted to get out of the one I was trapped in for so long, be the “skinny” person that I felt I was inside. I tried so hard to explain this to my doctor and others, no one heard me.

No matter how many things I tried I couldn’t loose weight. Probably because of my combined eating disorders, the ones that make me starve, binge, restrict, monitor, and so on. You don’t have to be skinny to have anorexia or bulimia either. Those conditions along with about 4 other eating disorders can overlap, mix together, and never be the “classic” type.

I’m certain that my family doctor growing up would feel terrible if he knew how much he missed. I seriously remember telling my doctor with every single new “diet” he wanted me to try, “I don’t eat enough calories for this weight gain”, then he’d look at my 300 pound mother and hear her say, “oh yeah she eats.” Sometimes I’d argue with her, he never believed me.

This person in the photo is hard for me to recognize. I wanted to be anyone, but her. I hated her. She was me though.

I look at her now and I still feel empty. I still feel like I don’t know who she is then or now. I can’t tell you what she really likes or doesn’t like. I can’t tell you what brings her joy or fulfillment. I can tell you that she always wanted to be a doctor and still does, but knows it’s impossible to achieve at this point, just like they said then.

I try new things and distract myself, but it’s all I ever do is find distractions to occupy my time. Once I learn how to do it, then I’m done and bored and need to move one. I can never keep on one thing.

I know that the person in the photo is still here although that body isn’t.

It’s a struggle for me. I have no clue who I am or what I like. I never had money and still I really don’t. I stay home unless I’m invited along. I always assume I’m not invited or not wanted so unless someone specifically asks me to join them I will not even recommend that I go. I will just silently hope they want to include me.

I find that I’m happiest doing stuff with people when they invite me along. I stayed home a lot by myself growing up. I never really got to experience things, and everything I did enjoy doing was criticized. And heaven forbid if someone didn’t enjoy themselves doing my thing, I was the most terrible person for picking such a “stupid” or “boring” thing.

If I drew, it wasn’t as good as my brother and I needed to “realize” he was the artist and I wasn’t, “he had a book published you know?” Yes, in elementary school and it was cool, but why couldn’t I be an artist too? So I stopped drawing. Now anytime I try to draw, I’m so overly critical I can’t even enjoy it, I know it’s their voices inside me I hear as my own, but damn!

I was criticized for reading books. I was criticized for wanting to learn. I was criticized for being smart. I was criticized for so many things. I can’t help but wonder if the ridicule had stopped what I’d be like today.

When I try to crochet I can’t get through it, all I can remember is who taught me it, when she taught me it, and all the ridicule I got for being a 20 something year old who crocheted. I mean my ex-husband was just as cruel as my step-dad, and always justifying the cruelness as a “joke” and I needed to “lighten up”. So I stopped. Now when I try to accomplish a project I can’t.

As a matter of fact writing this, I’m thinking I need to get rid of all my crochet stuff, because clearly it is a trigger for me, and the only reason it’s taking up space in our house for 3 years without being touched is because I bought it all, and I can’t bring myself to part with it. I don’t touch it, I don’t think about touching it, and when I do nothing comes out of it.

When I was growing up I was taught a couple things about who I was.

I was told I needed to grow up, get a good job, and make enough money to buy my parents a house and to take care of them. I was encouraged that if I couldn’t make the money to marry someone with money to take care of me. I literally learned that I was just a meal ticket or someone else’s “problem”. Wouldn’t you know I married someone who thought the same thing?!

I was trained to be the care giver that I was asked and expected to tend to things on the private parts of one of my parents. I was always forced to rub “daddys” back (which is not what I called my step-dad). I was given the task of popping boils on backs and rubbing feet.

I was hungry all the time. So much so that I’ve trained myself to not feel hunger and now I never feel hungry it seems like. I literally can go days without eating and not think twice about it, that’s always been normal for me. Food insecurity and ridicule will do that to you I suppose, especially if you’re already struggling to eat because of un-dealt with and unknown Autism at the same time, which causes its own set of eating difficulties with textures and smells and colors and so-on.

When I began working it was all theirs and I couldn’t do anything for me. I payed their bills and asked for scholarships for church events. I hated how poor people saw me as. I hated how bad with money people thought and still think I am. Even though I’m not and I wasn’t. People still think I’m “unpredictable” with money and just going to use it all.

Because of them and how they were with their finances, when I was a minor, I have this stigma attached to me that I must be bad with money as well. I carry their shame just by association. I wish people understood that I am not them. That I am trustworthy. That I was their child and their shame is their shame. Their mistakes are their, not mine.

I see the person that people thought was “in charge” and “ran the show”. I see the person who rebutted with, “I pay the bills, their not in control, so someone has to be in control.” The truth is I wasn’t in control of them, I was trying to be in control of my own life. Now I understand that was a safety mechanism. A survival skill if you will. I subconsciously saw a need to protect myself from my parents long before I ever realized it. Growing up in this it is your “normal” it’s not to you are shown different that you realize it was not “normal.

So this woman in this picture knew only wanting to be a different person. She was and is still so empty inside. The only good inside her is the way she loves people, and even that she fails at. I may always be there person who just goes along for the ride and enjoys whatever is at the end of that ride.

I may always be the person who hopes you’ll think of something I’ll like and we’ll do what you come up with. I am in no way shape or form looking for things to do. I would hate for someone to do something with me and they not like it, so if I just do what they like there can be no problem. I can’t be shamed or hurt because they didn’t have a good time. I didn’t pick not my problem.

I won’t sit around and ask people to spend money on me. I actually get very upset and take it to heart when people spend money one me. I will always tell them that they don’t need to get me anything and I will lock my wish list down so no one can see it. I feel guilt when people buy me gifts. I feel like I have to buy them something in return or they’re are expecting something in return at the very least. I’ve also have found that gifts can be hung over your head later on and used as a way to make you feel guilty later.

I don’t listen to new music. I don’t follow pop-culture; I didn’t have cable, internet, or phone growing up. I didn’t have those things until I moved out really. So we’re talking about post 2003. I don’t know what to be interested in and often ask “what do you look at?”, “what do you read?”, how do people find stuff to read or be interested in?”

I’m 35 damnit! Shouldn’t I be more than just somebody’s mother? I mean I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but you’d think that’s all I was made for, to care for people. I don’t have a list of favorite places to eat and I’ve learned to cook restaurant quality food because I never got to go to them.

Today I see this picture and think to myself, “I’ve changed so much, yet the one way I’ve needed to change I can’t.”

I can’t change who she is at her core. She is just as lost and empty as she was then. Even more so now because there is no one to care for. There is no grueling intense schedule of trying to mom everyone. There is nothing but trying to figure out me. Quite honestly I don’t think I can be me without someone to care for.

I’m so empty inside. I can tell you that my favorite thing is mint green and that’s about it. I can’t tell you anything more than when I’m upset I’m like The Hulk—you definitely wont like me when I am angry, a little reference to Marvel Comics for all you fans out there. That’s pretty much all I can tell you about me.

I’m not certain there is really anything good about me. I’m not feeling depressed right now, so that statement isn’t a depression thing, it’s a true feeling, I’ve felt long before this picture was taken, so way before now.

I feel as if everyone expects me to change something about me. That I’m never okay just being me. It makes me feel more stress when I’m stressed, making the my response worse. Constantly trying to watch and correct myself, never being okay just being me. That I always have to fix something. That I’m always too much for people. I’m too loud. I’m too outspoken. I’m too quiet. I talk to much. I don’t speak up enough. So-on and so-on. There is always something about me that needs to be fixed.

So when I see this picture I’m reminded I have come a long way. I also see fat. I see ugly. I see empty. I see broken. I see just someone staring at a camera. Not knowing how to love herself, but loving so many others.

I see a picture that makes me sad because I’m reminded of just how much I don’t know me. Just how much I can’t speak up. Just how much I won’t ask for. Just how lonely I am. Just how empty I am. Just how much I don’t know how to get my needs met.

I’m reminded that no matter how far I’ve come, I’ll always still be me; broken, burden, crazy, empty, lonely, loud, “motormouth”, obsessive, outspoken, unfiltered…

The Scale Won Today

I thought I would be writing a victory blog tonight about how I didn’t weigh myself today.

Well I can’t do that now.

My anxiety about my weight won, obviously. It’s such a subconscious thing for me. I used to never consider owning a scale because of this problem of always watching the numbers.

I don’t think it helps me to know how many ounces I gained or lost in the last 24 hours. I think it only drives my eating disorders further.

Today I blew it by going into our master bath to use the bathroom in the middle of the day. That’s the bathroom with the scale. I stepped on it to see that I gained weight, then went about my day.

As I’m writing about my struggle with the scale I realize that almost every time I use our master bathroom I step on that scale. I’m not sure what it is my brain is doing here, but I know it’s time for it to learn a new behavior. A new way of thinking.

I’m sure this “need” to weigh myself frequently is stemming from the fact that I’ve gained weight since having my gastric bypass reversed in December. I know it is a much needed weight gain, consciously, but I don’t think the subconscious has gotten the message.

I’m sure the fact that I was bullied not only at school, but at home as well for my weight. The same people who would tell that my bullies were wrong, or that I was wrong when I called myself names were in fact calling me names too.

One can only take being called “fat” so many times. One can only take being told, “I know how you can loose 10 ugly pounds…cut your head off.” So many times. I guess those things no matter how much you work through them just are deep rooted and stay that way.

4 years of CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) and I’m still uncovering things I have to work on. Clearly this is another part of my subconscious that I have to correct. It isn’t easy.

Alot of the times, like just now, I have to talk through something to figure out where to begin the healing journey. While writing this blog I figured out one thing that probably is fueling my need to weigh myself.

I’m not certain where to begin. I’m positive I’ll figure it out though. I know not having access to a scale will cause me anxiety and panic, so removing it from the house is not an acceptable answer. Constantly obsessing about my changes in weight is not an acceptable answer either.

Now if I could just figure out the whole eating disorder recovery thing I’d be extremely happy!

11 Word Note to Myself

Remember the struggle is real, but your “reality” may not be.