Four months and six years

It’s a telling tale when you have gone for four months without a “friend”.  I did visit with “wine” twice.  One time with one glass visit, the other a two glass visit.  I have to admit I felt bad for “wine”.  I did not enjoy the company.  The taste was like drinking rubbing alcohol.  It didn’t have the old familiar sweet aroma.  It was not longer a friendship I felt close to, nor a feeling of possessiveness or obsession of the way it used to seemingly complement the meal I was having, or a source of achiement, a reward or sorts, for a hard long day at work.  Wine has lost its place in my heart, my mind and my soul.

This brings me to the same feeling I have about my bulimia.  However, in the case of my bulimia, I am enjoying what was to me an enemy.  Unlike wine being my friend, food used to be my enemy.  I find this to be an interesting view.  The desire to banish what I have eaten is no longer a question.  Food nourishes me, as is now my feelings of desire to accomplish, to be active, to read, to fulfill a side of me that wine could not and that food does not, but complements.

I am just about to finish the novel “Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I am feeling a sort of sorrow knowing its coming to an end.  I have no idea what I want to read next.  I have a few books on my iPad, but I like to hold the pages in my hands.  I like the feeling of turning the pages.

Today, one of the lines I truly enjoyed was when her boyfriend tells her she is like a snail.  That she carries her home on her back.  I could relate to this very well.  In the 23 times I have moved, I have made a home wherever I have chosen to be.  I realized that the home is what I put in it.  The few belongings I have lugged around with me that make my new places familiar.  But that is the only thing that keeps me calling a place a home.

I don’t know where, in the external world, outside my right now tiny apartment, I belong.  I do not have any real friends other than my dogs and cats that I can just call up and go out with.  Having said that, I am quite a loner, and quite enjoy being so.  But there are the times when I would love to have someone to come by and share the deck with that overlooks a wondrous big pond with all the beauty of being in the country in the middle of a city.  I would love to have some interesting conversations about travel and passions, and such.  I’m not saying I don’t have any friends at all.  But I don’t have that one or two friends you know that you can count on now and again to get together and do something spontaneously.  I miss that.

Growing up, even when I moved around, I always found that one friend.  We were inseparable almost.  But I suppose when I got married, I took on his friends and I really didn’t have that one friend anymore.  And then when I divorced it was apparent that I had really no one left.  I did end up with a boyfriend to take that place… but when we broke up it was like I didn’t even want one.  I was tired of losing friends from moving and life experiences, that I chose to not have one.  Until last year.  I met someone that was my perfect best friend.  I finally found that one person I had longed to have in my life.  No commitments other than friendship.  We had so much fun together.  A year later he died, leaving me thinking again that its not worth the pain.  Yet I want this again.  I know though that these are not things you can just go out and find.  They are rare and beautiful occurences when you finally find that one person you just look forward to spending time with.

Well, I do have thousands of thoughts that are as disconnected as this post, but I will leave them for another night.  Maybe, just maybe, I will find solace in my writing and sending it out there to whomever cares to read it and to respond.

To all who have read it… have a great night… until the next time.

tom tomjones3453@gmai.com 70.49.100.169 you will commit suicide end of 2016

Nice!! This was one of the messages I got on my site.  Well, Mr. Tom Jones, having quit bulimia, I think I am showing signs of actually not going that way.  I don’t know who you are, and really maybe care because if you are sending out messages like this, it may well be that you are having issues yourself.

I will say, I was walking my dogs, after feeding my cats and hugging them, and learning about my new friend, a Betta fish that my daughter left with me with, which I took with love and happiness to learn more about, when I was thinking about this incredibly sad message you sent me.

Now, there is something not so sad, is that I have your IP address and I have a background in PI work so I have connections to find you to find out if you are actually the one that has suicidal tendencies.

I don’t take this kind of message lightly by the way.  I don’t find this funny.. I don’t even find it offensive, I find it scary that a person would write this on a post of someone who is writing about recovery.  I would worry more about you than me.

 

nosuicidebullying

Stop Talking About Her!

Sister Cheating With Husband

 

16 years ago or so my sister had an affair with my husband.  True fact. My parents, as I would expect them to, forgave her. So did I but I choose not to be around that freak of nature that also destroyed, in my watch, three other marriages and has been constantly unfaithful to her husband. This my parents don’t know.

It behooves me how my mother is always telling me how wonderful she is. I don’t want to hear about her. I want to close that chapter of my book. She and my now ex-husband, destroyed two families and yet it appears to me my mother is completely either in denial or does this to hurt me.

How do you tell a mother to shut the funk up and that you don’t want to hear about the devil in Prada ??

My parents are in their 80’s. Dad just had a major stroke.  I can’t upset my mother by telling her how I feel, because likely she will tell dad and dad is just not in that zone.  He just wants to focus on getting better.

That Devil also took away the dog I loved that Dad said he would care for when I lost everything and didn’t have a place to keep him.  My Yeller.  Now her husband.. yes he stayed with her through this because he is madly in love with her… smiled and said he turned my dog into a needy one that won’t leave him alone.

Oh my… no wonder they are together.  But better yet, he tells me he sleeps with the dog without my sister.

Twisted.

I don’t know how to cut this tie.  If I refuse to show up to all the family events, my parents get upset.  But if I do show up I feel ill.  I don’t hate my sister.  That is too much of an emotion.  I just don’t want to be around someone who is toxic and has caused my children to bring up the pain of a marriage that died over a sister and father who had no desire to understand the final consequences of their actions.

I understand my parents still loving her.  She is their daughter.  But I don’t feel it is fair that I am expected to love her and hang around with her.  And I don’t think it’s fair that I can no longer be honest about my true feelings… that I so prefer to keep her away from me.  I want those who I trust and love and do same  back around me.  I spent years as a bulimic eating the mean ones up and throwing them up.  Bullies, mean people, controlling people.

Proud to say that I am not doing that… but yet… there are other things that may bring me to wonder… why… I do what I do.

Pink Is Awesome

Pink stands up for being beautiful.

Her songs inspire me.  She has the wisdom of beauty.  There should be no judging on her…. for her songs are all about not judging.  That she should she should even have to speak up against the public who cannot see her beauty in all that she wears and all that she is and all that she represents is sad.  I am proud she did, but it should not have been required.  Pink … Pink as she is reflects the world of pink.  Pink represents support.  She stood up and did that.  Pink doesn’t just stand up for being beautiful, she stands up for everything that is beautiful, and everything we have to fight against.  And what I love is her “pink” is also a symbol of the fight against cancer.  I believe she should be our advocate, and then even more so, the one that goes up and becomes President of the United States.  Would love to see Pink as the first female President.  She would be the most impressive, real, believable President of all.  And if I were a U.S. citizen? I would vote for her!!! Brilliant woman.

And to AlessiaFran, I hope you don’t mind I posted this beautiful rendition of Pink.  I just found it to be the most powerful of the message I was trying to convey.  Beautiful work!! And would be a GREAT poster for Pink when she goes up against Hillary for Presidency. 🙂

Beautiful and Perfect!!!

image

Becoming Who I am

Never have I seen a post so beautiful as this.  I could not ever say this more beautifully.  I have gone through life wondering how to explain what I feel.  This is it.  This is what it has been becoming who I am.  Becoming me.

becoming

She Called!

Well I guess it’s all about letting it ride.  I don’t want to share what my daughter called about but she called.  I got down on my knees and thanked God for answering my prayers…. it was all I wanted.  Numbing my feelings were obviously not what He wanted me to hear.

I Miss You

She is so like me at that age.  21.  I told her bulimia got me through.  In earlier posts I wrote about how one of my psychiatrists told me it probably saved my life through my depression.  It also made my life a living hell, but one that most around me didn’t see.  My daughter’s struggles are more open to everyone close to her.

What is the better evil?  Deadly silence or open admission of the frustrations of life…. But all I can say is… my daughter called me tonight after two nights ago choosing to make me a “text mom”.  Tonight I heard her voice.

Thank you God!!

I love friends

It’s been a strange world lately.  Like the stars are misaligned.   Still okay though.  I don’t run to the cupboard or the fridge for solace on this time of frustration and I don’t knows.  New bosses, new colleagues, major firings and not knowing if you are the next on that revolving door list.  My solace is with my dogs, but they must be feeling my stress when it kicks in, because for the first time in two months when I first moved into my new place, baby has been messing daily.  She never did before.  And my car is blowing out gas like there is no tomorrow… so kind of like me.. lol.  Stress bloats and gas.

I miss my blogging.  I have been so busy trying to save my job that I forgot that this place is .. yes.. solace.  Always brought me piece even when I was in the most stressful moments of my life.

I really wish I could share more about my disarray, but if I linked it to any site I would be found out.  I tend not to like that.  I like my followers to find me, but not the people I don’t want to have follow me.  Does this make sense?

Conundrum, frustration, uneasiness in my stomach, but through this, I reached out.. not with food!! But with phone calls to my new front end people.  I have friend who equally wants to share her stories.  They are more about women getting out of the trenches.  She doesn’t like the front line idea.  I do.  I fight front line everyday.  She said that is negative and that we can come to just working smart not fighting.  I agree to disagree.  My lifestyle as a recovered bulimic is one where I have to be at the front line but with a white flag.  Surrender, but do it with pride and dignity.  Front line, I deal with customers.  They are always right so to speak.  When not, and in my head, I just wave the flag and discuss the issue.  I am front line.  I am customer service.  I will love my customers, and even those who cause my blood pressure to rise because they have to involve upper management.  I am a survivor. And in fairness… so many of my customers to me are gold for those 2% that may not be.  It is why I wake up to see them every day.  In this revolving door, I don’t want the exit.

I know what it feels like to fight defeat.  I AM A RECOVERED BULIMIC.  WE KNOW THE FIGHT.  MORE SO THAN ANY NORMAL PERSON.

Amazing, and God sent lesson.

Recover and you will know what true recovery feels like.  Beautiful.  And it’s never too early (better plan)  but better yet to know… never too late!!