* names have been altered, and {} will be used if I need to add something that is not in the journal.
"
I want to try to tackle the "picture of 'hurt'"... THe scared girl in the corner of the room:
We all know who it is, but it may be helpful to describe her?: She is about 2-4 years old. Straight blonde hair, whispy and unkempt. Her face it downcast, her eyes full of tears; unblinking. Her brow is furrowed ina slight frown. Her cheeks are a little sunken in due to malnutrition. Her teeth are clenched under lips that are trying not to tremble: trying so hard to be strong. Her almost skeletal frame is curled up tightly. She is clutching her bent legs as closely to her chest as she can. Trying desperately to hold it all together. it is not quite working. Her feet along with the rest of her body are filthy as if she had been walking barefoot and had not bathed in weeks. She almost looks tired along with the obvious sadness, and a little more subtle; fear.
She is surrounded at a distance by many people - It looks as if she is trying to get as far away from them as she can, if not disappear completely... Jennifer* {my biological mother} is there, big as ever, cigarette and a beer bottle in one hand, pool stick in the other. Harry* {the man who sexually abused me as a small child} is there, clothed, but with his hands on the top button of his pants as if to undo them. The hispanic {no I am not racist, this is just the only thing I remember about them other than what they did to me: beat me with highheels and flipflops, and shoved ice down my tights and then tried to get me to have sex with their 3 or 4 year old brother} are there, holding highheels and ice. Maria* {my aunt who took care of me as a child while all this was going on} is there, her back turned to the girl. Grandma is there, standing behind Jennifer* with her hands on her shoulders-protecting, defending, and approving her. My mom {adoptive} is there, shaking her finger and scowling at the girl. My dad is there too, standing behind my mom and looking like he wants to reach out to her but can't/doesn't know how, and {as always} he is too busy to be able to... Mary* {the dorm mother at the girls home I was in} is there, holding a big wooden paddle like she is ready to strike the girl at any chance or minor provocation. Papa/John* [the director of the girls home} is there too, holding a Bible, also looking like he wants to hit her with the Bible. Hubby is there. He is the closest to her. He tries to reach out to her, but she doesn't more or act like she notices, but he keeps getting distracted by other people in the room. There is a sea of faces behind all these people, farthest from the girl. All with looks of disapproval and disgust. Faces that pop out are Jim and Alice* my pastor from ages 8-15. James Hood*, the pastor of the church where I had accepted Christ, Stephanie Jones* not really sure why... (probably represents people from {the church I grew up in}) and All the people we called "friends" from our former church.
Next, I picture 3 girls about this girls' age that ignore everyone else in the room and walk straight over to the girl. The one reaches out a hand and pulls the first girls' arms loose from her legs and the two girls simultaneously wrap their arms around this girl hugging her tight. The girl breaks down into sobs clutching the girls as tightly an she had been her legs. Next, Hubby joins these three, wrapping his arms around them; soothing, protecting, loving...
A woman {I originally pictured my psychiatrist when I wrote this, but as it progressed, the woman changed...} comes over finally, and drops to her knees in front of this small gathering. She takes the girls' chin in her hand and lifts it until the girl looks at her. The woman smiles, and takes her hand, helping her into a standing position- Takes her jacket and wraps it around the girls' previousl unclothed body. There is nothing but love and sympathy in this womans face, and suddenly everyone else disappears... The woman bathes the little girl, gices her brand new clothes to wear, feeds her a full meal and then hugs her tightly and tells her she is loved, until thel little girl disappears completely and her fully grown self- the woman {me, but different, maybe older, more mature somehow} is the only one standing in the room. She looks so happy, yet there are tears in her eyes. She reaches out, and where her hand is, Hubby's hand followed by the rest of his body reappears, followed by H and J {my baby girls} the two little girls that loved me despite everything and everyone else. As a family, we turn together, and a door appears on one side of us and another on the other. In front of us, a line is forming: All of the people in the room: First in line, my mom and dad - they come over and stand benind my family. Next, Mary*- she goes thru the left door which is for people I am leaving behind. John* also sees the left door. Grandma gets the right door, because I believe we can make it all right again... Jennifer* = right, Maria* = left, Harry* = left, babysitters = left, Jim and Alice* = left, James Hood, = left, Firends from the different churches = split evenly between the doors. In the end, it is just my family, my parents, hubby's parents standing in the room, my mom and dad finally standing behind me as the woman I have become. (His would have been there the whole time, but they never really knew the little girl. ) I am loved as I am, and the "hurt" is gone... Finally, I feel free. Finally, my world is right side up. Finally I am only and all myself- as I want to be. I am happy, and I am content to just be happy!
If only it were that simple:
"
There you have it... Lots to ponder, lots to work thru. Hubby thinks that one of the reasons I comfort with food is because when I was little, My mother almost never fed me, so I associate the feeling of hunger with all the rest of the negative crap that happened to me when I was little... It makes sense... It also explains why I have a hard time accepting the feeling of hunger as a good thing now... I have tried. I want to want to be hungry... I would love your feedback and comments on this blog... This really is a glimpse into the depths of my soul, kinda putting it all out there... One thing I discovered is that I am the only one that can help the "little girl..." Only I can make it better for her... And my pshychologist is going to teach me how, but I have to do it.
Stay strong ladies.
Oh, and on a side note, Friend is here! It is going well... I like holding and kissing him! The rest is more for his benefit than my own... My hubby takes care of me quite well, but I am enjoying the feel of his hands on me and his lips on mine! He makes me feel small and beautiful. I like it!
Not posting my wt... Still well over 200, but working diligently at working out and attempting to gather control over the food... So hard!
AnaNae
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