Tuesday, June 20, 2017

A work in progress

I probably should have taken a few shots of jack before heading to the mall to try on swim suits. I have a swim suit. It is a one piece. Every single time I put it on I cringe. I am not a one piece person. My mind anyways, my body definitely screams to cover that shit up with a one piece.

I took 7 swimsuits into the dressing room. One of these has to look right on my body. Every single one I tried on reminded me of the all the fudge striped cookies I had consumed over the last 8 months. Every single bite. Shit. What have I done?  Every single emotional eating tirade that had taken place since the last time it was swim suit shopping season.  It also showed how my stomach grew and grew and grew and grew three separate times, with the last kid taking a huge toll on my mid section.  I started sending pictures to my husband...this one? This one? How about this one? Of course he liked them all, and then picked the only one piece I had taken into the dressing room with me.

Hmm. Little shit. Does he not like my bikini body? I birthed his children and he is about half of the reasons for my fudged striped cookie emotional eating tirades. He said I like that one piece, but I really do like the one you already have. What. Is this a ploy to not get me to spend money or do you really like that one that makes me feel like I am wearing a garbage bag at the pool?

I never really gave much thought to the way I looked or dressed. My mom purchased all of my outfits growing up, I had a set amount and that is what I wore. When I was around 20 years old I went shopping. I bought myself a pair of tighter jeans and a camo top. I sat in my parents basement and did my hair and put makeup on for one of the first times. I remember coming upstairs and my sister called me beautiful. That has stuck with me all these years, as it was a turning point for me. I loved fashion!

For about 8 years of my life I allowed someone to shame my body daily. That is not something that is easy to overcome.

My husband has since built my self esteem back up to a decent level....which brings me to that moment in the dressing room. Swimsuits strung all around, the taste of that bite of Ben and Jerry's I had earlier still lingering on my thighs...this body is the one I currently have. Do I really want to give up my cookie addiction? No. I have to somehow learn to love the body that I have, the one that did carry three children, the one that has had a child pass away inside of it...the body that has carried me through the death of my dad, years of abuse, gotten me through intense labor and deliveries, that one that gets up every single morning and keeps three kids alive and a husband.  I should love it, and it shouldn't matter what strangers think of me and my body. So I bought a two piece, and I plan to wear it at least once this summer. Maybe. Lord knows, I am still a work in progress.



Friday, May 15, 2015

Poorly written

There are days I still feel controlled, all these years later. 

This is from an online journal I had kept and later forwarded to one of my best friends, When I had finally confessed the life I had been living. A dark secret. I never told anyone during those 6-7 years because I had actually believed I was THIS Person, a horrible person, that deserved it all. I thought it as normal.

I am publishing my article to free myself, once and for all. To maybe help someone else out that might be going through the same thing. I DID get out, I did make a better life for myself....I CAN continue to be ok. I DID it. I am not those terrible things he says I was. I am a human, I have feelings, I have a heart and am worthy of love.

Very poorly written from years ago. If you make it through this, you are a saint. But hopefully it helps someone.


Sent: Monday, December 8, 2007 12:27:38 AM
Subject:

First physical encounter:
A few months after I had moved in we were hanging out in his room. He was playing a computer game and I was reading a book.  The phone rang and it was my mom. She told me she broke down, and needed help. Her tire was flat and she was stranded. She wanted to know if Frank could come and help. I remember feeling nervous about that, but I said Ok. We will be there very soon.
I hung up the phone and turned to Frank, very busy at his game. I told him the situation and he immediately got angry and told me he was not leaving the house, he was busy with his game, my mom could find someone else to help. I was devestated, and even embarrassed that I would have to tell my mom that he my bf of a year did not want to come help her.  So I decided to ask again, well that was a mistake. I remember the “look” in his eyes, and I will never forget it as I got to know it well over the next 6 years. He jumped up from his chair and grabbed me by my shoulders and started to shake me, tell me to shut the fuck up, and he wasn’t helping my  loser mother when he was playing his game, how dare I even ask him to stop playing.  Of course, I started to apologize profusely…he grabbed me by my shirt then and dragged me to the steps.  He tried to push me down them, I fell to the floor in fear and was begging him NOT to push me down the flight of steps. The fight ensued.  He twisted and turned my wrist in effort to what seemed like break it off as we struggled at the top of the steps. I kept telling him I was sorrry and to please just let me go help my Mom my self. Finally, he let me go.

I left in a hurry and in a daze. I remember the tears pouring down my face and the bright red marks on my wrist, I was thinking how can I cover this so my mom doesn’t see?  I pulled my sleeves lower over the bright red marks, that were already turning to bruises . Something I learned to do very well over the next years. My head was pounding, my shoulders were aching. Most of all my heart aching.
Why? What did I do? Did that just happen? Of course he had already been emotionally abusive to me, but I hadnt realized it just yet, and I never thought he would literally try to throw me down the steps for asking him to help my mom.  Yet, I still ..even to this day...blame myself. I should not of bothered him while he was playing the game, I should have been more understanding, not nagged him about it. I def do not claim to be perfect.

That was the first of many bruises, lumps, blood, slaps in face, things thrown at me from across the room, boiling hot food thrown in my face and on and on.

Mental Torture:
So what probably hurt me worse was, his words. I would almost prefer being thrown down the steps than to be tortured with hateful words.  This started soon after I moved in. Mostly it was he was playing a game, and if things did not go his way he would take it out on me. I would just go to work, come home and cater to his needs.  He was not working at the time, and it was a good year that I would go to work and come home to his nasty attitude. 

Say he would “die” in the game he played, he would start punching the wall, multiple holes in the walls, break everything around him.  Then it got to the point where somehow it managed to be my fault. If I talked to him at the wrong time, or the phone rang and I answered it or didn’t answer it,  I would just cough and if it coincided with him having a bad moment, it was my fault. So I would need punished. He would take my things and break them. If I was watching tv, he would punch it , turn it off, take the remote and break it and told me I was never allowed to watch tv again. So I would sit there tears in my eyes, and just sit. For hours. While he played his game. The cycle would continue on and on, he would break just about everything I liked. He knew the phone was my life line. I begged him not to break it. He told me that I should not bring it near him if I didn’t want him to break it. So I would leave it downstairs, hide it. And he would go search for it and throw it against the wall a million times, until it was into little piece then say “ See what you did? See what you make me do? “  “clean it up!! NOW “  I would have to clean up his mess while he would talk to me about how I broke the phone, or broke the glass. He would throw glasses of pop on me and tell me I couldn’t change until not one drop was on the floor or on the surroundings. 

He wasn’t always like that, in fact he even asked me to play the same game as him. Which at first was a good idea, I tried to relate to him the best I could. Lets face it, I sucked at the game. But I enjoyed the friends I made. It was like a breath of fresh air to talk to other people, and he acted nice to me in front of them.  Behind the computer screen, if I would “ mess up” he would scream at me, tell me how I sucked and I couldn’t even manage to play a game. That he should delete my characters and I was huge embarrassment to him, he no longer wanted me to talk to any of the people in the game because I embarrassed him. He would crack jokes about in the chats, and if I died or did something stupid, things got broken..my favorites things..my phones, water colors, my art stuff..paints..if it was mine, and I liked it it was destroyed. I learned to just shut off and not like anything anymore. I no longer used my water colors I used ink pens to draw. And of course the game was no longer an enjoyment to me but the strange thing was, he still made me play.
He hated that I put on weight since being with him. Part depression, part I was getting older. I wasn’t 18 anymore, I was 24. His diet sucked, he never liked my cooking and we would eat out all the time. He wouldn’t take me to sit down dinners, but we would order out. No kidding I put on about 10 pounds. He would tell me how ugly I had gotten. Made me put on a skirt, poked my fat . pointed out every single inch of me that he didn’t like. Which was mostly everything. Made me wear this skirt  so he could tell me how fat and ugly I looked in it . Then he took me to get a cheeseburger. I said I didn’t want to eat. I wasn’t hungry. He would tell me yea I was always hungry and to eat it so I can get more fat. He made me eat it . I remember chewing it through my tears and spitting it out while he wasn’t looking.  I never wanted to eat again. Food was a huge issue. At one point, i was sneaking food , hiding it so he didnt know I was eating. and it came to the point where he would go out to eat and i wasnt allowed to go, or he would go get him and his family food and not bring me any back and make sure I knew it was because i was fat and didnt deserve to eat that day.

could never make decisions, I couldnt buy curtains for the house or a new rug, or pick out furniture. If i did he hated it made me take it down and back to the store and he would have to pick it out. sounds so little, but in the grand scheme of things it was just one more thing that hurt my heart. Why wasnt what i picked out good enough? and when i was allowed to eat, I couldnt chose where to eat, because it was always wrong. Sometimes he would force me to chose only to tell me how awful my decision was when the food came and was terrible, i would always get in big trouble for that. He made it perfectly clear that my ideas sucked and we werent ever to do anything i wanted. I couldnt see movies i liked or wanted to see, couldnt go to a mall i wanted to go to, couldnt pick out vacations, or even meals for dinner any longer. why do i suck at making decisions in life...

he often told me to just go die. there is a bridge near the house and there have been countless times he has told me to die and ive walked there and stood watching the cars go by contemplating how if i died no one would care, i was worthless and they would probably even be happy.  how could i mess up so bad. how could i be such a poor decision maker, make someone lose and die in a game, make horrible dinners, make terrible choices for movies and where to shop. what is wrong with me?  I could never do it, i guess thats one more thing i failed at. always told me how my parents didnt like me, and remind me of how badly my dad treated me. on the rare occasion we would be out or do something it would end in a fight, and he would tell me just wait til we get home youre going to get it. and i would dread getting in the car with hima nd going home and getting it. whether it be violence or being punished with the silient treatment or yelled and screamed at for hours..i dreaded it.

The night he wanted to go out somewhere and I didn’t want to. He freaked out because I said I would rather stay home than travel far away. I wasn’t feeling well. Depression and anxiety were in full force. I could care less if I ever left the house again. I protested. I did not want to go out. I was on the steps, and he grabbed me and dragged me down them.  I knew I had messed up and just stood there. He punched his moms glass cabinet that she had had for years. The glass shattered. He threw dishes, broke them. He grabbed me again and ripped to pieces in a furious rage.  He pulled my hair so hard it was coming out of my head, it burned so bad. I blocked a lot out but I remember again, begging him to stop it. Then he told me to pull it together, I had to go to his mom and tell her I broke her cabinet. I made him mad, so it was my fault. I broke it. I remember thinking, my god I cant belive I broke his moms cabinet she loved! How was I ever going to face her with what I did. So I had to go to her and tell her I broke it.  I told her straight out I broke it but I promised to give her my next paycheck to replace the glass. Humiliating to say the least.
Oh, and when I learned I had to have my gallbladder out. I was a MESS. I was so afraid, we had just gotten back from the drs.  We walked into the house and I exclaimed to him how scared I was. I said I do not want to do this surgery, I am afraid. I was crying. He was across the room now, into the dining room, I was still at the front doorway and he took the car keys and threw them at me as hard as he could.  They hit my leg and I fell to the ground, I literally had the indentations on a set of car keys imprinted on my legs. The bruise was instant and horrible. It spread down most of my upper outter thigh. Why I asked? Why? Because you were crying like a freaking baby, get the fuck over it. Im sick of hearing you whine. But im afraid of having surgery and you do this to me?  Why cant you just be there for me. Why cant you hold me and tell me its going to be alright.

Instead, all I ever got was how much of a loser I am. How if I died it would be ok, life would be better. I can’t do anything right. If I made his fav dinner, it was the day he decided it was no longer his fav and should have made something else. It would be too done, not done enough. I stopped wanting to do anything. S topped drawing, stopped writing, stopped gaming, stopped talking on the phone, stoppped watching sports on the tv, stopped wanting to cook, stopped wanting to clean. I became a very sad broken soul.
I am not allowed to talk while driving, if I thought we were lost and tried to help he would pinch me till I almost bled, tell me to shut my stupid fucking mouth, and that he would throw me out of the car for another car to run me over if I opened my mouth again.
He would embarrass me in front of my family, and at one point tried to get me to stop talking to any of them. Saying they are crazy and that if I talked to them, that would be choosing them over him and he would kick me out. I distanced myself from my family.

He wuold take his head and bang it against mine until lumps appeared on my skull and temple. I would cry and beg for forgiveness.  I thought wow I am a terrible person and started to realize I deserved it all. I failed at life. Cried myself to sleep most nights.  this all happened about once a week..when it wasn’t happening it was like walking on eggshells.  The mental abuse was still there, the silient treatments. I would BEG literally cry and beg for him to talk to me.  He could ignore me for days. That hurt a lot too. Please talk to me, im sorry I would tell him. I would do anything to get him to talk to me again.  When he would start again, I would be so happy.

I remember way back in the beginging we went to Lake Erie with the fam. We went to breakfast and I thought was done. I took his bacon and ate it and I got into big trouble for that one. He told me how ignorant I was to eat soemone elses food, and to go find someplace that had bacon and get him more. It was past serving times, I had no car. I wasn’t allowed to have fun until I found him bacon. I shed a lot of tears that day.
Other days . if I looked at him wrong I would get pounced on, hold me down until I apologized. Of couse I said I was sorry quickly.  Not really knowing what I did wrong.  If he died in the game and I would tellhim please don’t break anything, that was his clue to come at me, even if I tried to tell him it would be ok…it was wrong. I would get in trouble.
Just things in general, if I made a painting and asked him how he liked it..he would shrug and point out all the wrong things. I got into photography and he never liked one photo I showed him. He would tell me how this was wrong, and I would say but do you like it at all? And he would say a little.  Why cant I do anything right?
We got pregnant and at first it was still the same. I was scared about being pregnant and he seemed happy.  Things were a little better during my pregnancy. There were a few instances where he would die in the game, a new game, and make me leave the room at 2 am..wake me up..and make me sleep on the steps outside the room.

later in my pregnancy we went to idlewild for his work picnic, my mom worked at the same place, so my whole family was there, i was 7 months pregnant and it was 107 degrees that day. He got mad at me because i was pregnant and couldnt ride the rides and was slow to keep up with him. my feet were swollen from being pregnant and the heat. the baby was also laying on my vena cava most of the pregnancy and i would get light headed easily. he was so angry, he yelled at me in front of everyone and then said i had better follow him. he made me walk the whole park over and over again him in front me walking so fast and i was trying so hard to keep up and walk as fast as i could in the heat. i was so afraid. we got in the car and he screamed and yelled at me. i wanted to go home. i begged to go home i thought thats what he was doing, i was seeing major spots and was very sick. he knew i wanted to go home so he made me get back out and follow him more through the park. i was so embarrassed. that day really sticks out to me.

my last month I thought everything was going to be different and better now. He was so nice to me. Don’t get me wrong, he had nice spurts with me before, in between the hellish times. But this was different. He told me he loved me, stopped gaming and we had a baby. Soon after is when things started going back to the ways they were, which was heart breaking. He would whack me while I had the baby, tell her to hit me too.  Throw her toys and break them in anger spurts, which would make her cry .  He broke countless of her toys for no reason other than dying in a game, tripping over the toy, the tv being too loud. He would lock certain channels so i didnt use them. He would log on the game consoles to see how long i played while at work and then yell becuase it was too long. i couldnt wait for him to leave for work or school. ava and i would dance around and sing and it was just awesome when we were alone. he never helped with her, never would change her diapers or feed her. she never slept and he would never get up with her. i would cry my eyes out after a year of no sleep and beg him to hold her for just an hour. while i rested. he would not. he would yell at me how i was a terrible mother, and it was my job to care for her, i would get in big trouble for waking him in the night if i did. 

two days after we got married was probably another one of the worst days ever. our wedding was emotionless, there was just nothing there..my friend whispered in my ear ( who knew nothing about the violence ,i enver told anyone ) i will take you away if you want, you dont have to do this...i guess she could sense it. sense the fear in me, the control, the sadness. at the reception i sat in the bathroom and cried before it all started...i wasnt thinking anything, just an immense sadness came over me. i wanted to be loved, i wanted to be make this man happy, but i had failed. he hated me, and i was remembering the weeks before how there was a picture of me in my wedding dress, wheni picked it up after final alterations, and he had told me how ugly i was probably going to be in that dress and if it looked nice on me when it came off how i would be the ugly girl once again. i took that picture and wrote all over it bad stuff about me. allt he things he called me, ugly, fat, loser, dumb...he often told me i was just air, i didnt offer anything to anyone, and that he had never met anyone that basically just a waste of air and that i did no good to society. So i sat in the bathroom remembering all this, and sick at how i knew i was the ugliest bride ever , dreading going home after the wedding, wanting to be a child again, hiding at home in my room from my dad watching penguin game reruns instead of living a nightmare as an adult with nowhere to escape and a baby to take care. the tears fell to the ground in huge mounds thining of the vows we just took, and how i placed the ring on his WRONG finger and how everyone laughed and maybe that was my sign from god that i should have ran out of there and never looked back. Or it was just another screw up from me. I took a look in the mirror, and flashbacks and memories flooded in front of me, i seen a sad girl dressed all in white, red souless eyes and soon i could hear my bridemaids looking for me...i wiped the tears away, put on my smile, like i had done for all the years past and braved everyone out there. After the wedding the house was kinda cluttered, boxes of stuff from the reception, gifts, cards..ect. It was day two of marriage, we didnt plan a honeymoon or anything like that..and we were just hanging around the house..he had been really nice to me, i thought maybe married life would be different, maybe just maybe a tide had turned. we were smiling, laughing, joking the whole day after . He is really good at that, make you think you are wonderful, fool you...make you think things are going to be just fine, apologize..make you comfortable...then bam. He notices the boxes, the cluttered living room, trips on something...and it all comes crumbling down. I had ava in my arms and he slapped me across my face, started yelling and screaming, holding me down ..telling how i am supposed to be a "wife" now, wives, dont let clutter build up, or kids toys be on the floor ...but i said, its only been two days, we didnt even get a honeymoon, we havent even been home much..its the gifts people got us....on and on and i went to try to justify why things were out of place..and we just got married...this is our honeymoon time...i said i was sorry, he made me get on my hands and knees and start scrubbing the floor, all while calling me fat and a terrible fat wife. he made me leave and walk the block, threw his ring and printed out annulment papers and gave them to me saying how i was the worst wife in the world, no man would ever want me. Wow did that hurt. why does it still hurt i wondered. i should be used to this. oh but its different. first i was just the worst gf and fiance, worst mother to his child, worst friend, now im the worst wife, a sucky wife. i have failed now at all things in life. this went on for hours while he ordered me around the house watching me clean, making me go walk, watching me clean ..clean things that didnt even need cleaned.  all the while i hear my baby crying so confused. now how can i do this to her. he was telling her how bad of a mom i was and how bad i was for him, he showed her how to hit me. and would make her do it too. where oh where is my thing called self esteem, self worth..oh yea that right, i lost that a long time ago. brainwashed to think i am the suckiest person on earth who fails at every title a woman can earn. That night while i sat on the hard floor in the kitchen, after hours and hours of this he punched me so hard in my head that i blacked out. he dragged me upstairs and put me in bed. i just remember waking up to him shaking me and more yelling. from then on i dont really remember much more of that night and i dont really care to.  Thats just when i knew that being married was maybe worse . he always thru his rings, thru it out the window once because i couldnt find avas shoes and then at that exact moment the guy int eh slow plow made me realize sometihng as he came and plowed the ring away, not even knowing what he was doing he made me realize that it was over. that this was no way to live and even if i was that sucky horrible failure of a person i didnt want to be told it every day or hit every day, i would go live and be sucky alone with my baby somewhere else. i took my rings off and never put them back on. i wanted to rescue ava from all this, even if that voice in my head kept telling me, well ava deserves to know you are a failure too, what she didnt deserve was her toys smashed, crying and screaming when he was on a yelling and screaming ramage, being scared of him, not wanting to go near him, hanging on to me all night long and never sleeping. that day i made my decision that i would save HER. thank you snowplow man. one day i will get out.