things I think about.

My father and mother are not bad people, at least most of the time, in my mind.

That changes often. I think about it, my father hates)hated?) me. he said it and he showed it. in every action and movement. and you know what the sad thing is? it had nothing to do with me.
I was just the one there. his failure. his. not mine.
I remind him of his failure to me. of me.
he knew, and he didn't do anything. I would call him and tell him what was happening. not his problem, he didn't care. did he? not that I saw. he would have food and clean clothes and an island in the storm, for it bit to steel us to go back to hell. but we would have to go to hell alone.
he said that he left my mother because he was drinking him self to death. not because he was going to, because he was. he saved himself, he left us with her, knowing what she was capable of.
I feel that this is where, his failure of me, came from.
he was a chicken shit coward, that ran. leaving 2 small children to fend for themselves with a paranoid schizo-affective mother who was into torturing us. me and my damn(ed) brother.

what were we supposed to do? I survived, and held on. him, I have no idea. he is but a stranger to me. as are all of my family, except my mother. I know her far to well.
we share her insanity, bad behaviour, and general self/world destructive traits.
hard things to recover from, actuality damn hard.
these are things that go through my mind.
it makes me angry. then I realise, what is the point?
it is what it is.
nothing else.
it doesn't mean much in the scheme of things, really.
everyone has problems. everyone of us.
change is a hard thing, necessary. if you touch the hot burner you learn to test it first. what if testing it is not an true reading of what it really is? it feels cold but it scalds and blisters you. that is what it was like to live with my mother. you knew her, knew what she was capable of.... but it never helped. not once did it prepare you for the horror of what she was doing.
I was always scared, hungry and in pain, believing that someone would rescue me from this. that this wasn't what life was. then I learned that no one cared.
that I am a liar.
I had made up the scars and injuries, and such. look in my medical records, I am pathological in my lying. I had injuries, but people don't do that especially mothers.
"mothers don't do that to there daughters." "there is damage, what did your Father do to you?"
fathers do it, but mothers don't?
yeah. right. My father beats and ignores me when I tell him what SHE is doing.
so it must be okay... Until I was sure she was going to kill me, if I stayed any longer.
I ran trying to get people to listen to me. they couldn't ignore me any longer, I was 13 years old. So in my stupidity I thought that they would believe me because they are listening.
and when they would not help me, I screamed all the louder. so they put me on thorazine.
do you know what thorazine is boys and girls?
in prison and other such places they call it liquid handcuffs, and the thorazine shuffle.
it literally feels like walk through water with weights on fully clothed.
who put me on thorazine? My practising alcoholic psychiatrist.
she would reward me with lunch or getting my nails done, or going for a drive along the coast.
I did not know that she was drunk while treating me. she told me as part of her 4th step years later. she got clean. I didn't, she was still prescribing meds to me.
*I'm sorry I was drunk while I was treating you when you were a teenager."
I loved this woman at one point. she was helping me. she would pay attention to me, she would give me the drugs that I needed not to feel anything. legally prescribed psychotropics.
and so started my fascination with drugs.
I have been a drug addict since right before my 15th b day. February of 1985.
Band Aid, was the concert of the summer. I watched it in the day room of one of the local psychiatric facility. I spent over half a year in there that year.
let me clarify the drug addict thing. I take prescription medication as given to me by psychiatrists and quacks (they are all quacks)
if I drove I would be impaired driving. lets get in the car and take out a city block!
I don't drive. and ya know what? they would let me. as a matter of fact in order to get a car insured. I have to have a licence. a drivers licence.
seriously. I can't even fathom it. I can barely walk sometimes.
Oh and speaking of psychiatrists, I saw mine yesterday. my memory lapses, are from the Elavil that my urologist is giving me for bladder pain. they started the time that I had been on the new dose for 6 weeks.
six weeks is the golden number in medication adjustment. I was giving myself six weeks to recover from medication adjustments. as I said last post we are going down again on meds.
why can't I just go off the elavil? nope, wrong Dr.
need to make appt with that Dr, even though I swore I would never go back and see him.
Is it any reason, I don't trust these fuckers? (rhetorical question)
so where is all of this going? glad you asked!
I was able to break the 450lbs barrier. I have not been under 450 lbs for many years. 4 actually. after being attacked and the car accident. I gave up. I had a major break last October. it was too much. I didn't want to do this any more. fortunately I have safety nets in place and they caught me. and held me until I could get moving it took over a month for me to get moving. when I did the weight started to come off. keep in mind I had reached 512 lbs. not my highest but bad all the same. it was painful. try strapping 300+lbs to you and moving. well 70 (WHOO HOO!!!)lbs later I an 442lbs. I have 250+lbs to still lose. it will come off.
My change of mind set has had allot to do with the marriage proposal. what I mean by that, is my mind set changed his mind. I had progressed far enough, to know what I was doing, who I am and who I am marring, and why. he had to grow up and so did I.
I feel about J the way I have never felt about anyone, ever.
it is not a happy ending, but a beginning. for both of us.
this is what I try to think of when I think, of how lucky I am. I am loved by all that matter for the first time in my life. I am finally good enough, for me.
I am okay. I even like who I am, well most of the time when I stop trying to be my mother to me.
it is enough, and I can live with that, actually live for the first time in 40 years.
it may change tomorrow but I am okay with that.
what other choice do I have?
none that I can see that are realistic.
life on life's terms...
interesting.
this blog is now a journal for me. more do than it has ever been.
everything is changing and so will this blog.
read, don't read. be fair warned. some of it will be ugly.
it is what it is.