Eight is enough

I continued to self medicate for the next few years.  I don't want to give the wrong impression and make you all think I was some hard core drug addict, when that wasn't it at all.  I was doing things that weren't healthy for me on many levels but I wasn't a daily user of any one substance (well...except food of course). Sounds kinda like denial right?!  I assure you this isn't the case. 

After a few years of being by myself I started to get very lonely and wanted to have someone special in my life.  I got a phone call out of the blue one day from 'him' and I wanted to hang up, my head told me to hang up.....but I didn't.  It wasn't long into the conversation the real reason he called me that day...to tell me he gotten some girl pregnant and his new baby was almost 5 months old.  I still thank my lucky stars that girl wasn't me ...this really was no big shock, he has two other kids by two different women.   After he told me that he wasn't with this girl anymore he started in on the "I've changed"..."I would never hurt you" " I've never stopped loving you" spiel, and after a few minutes the abused woman mentality kicked in again, and my loneliness was just the cherry on top of this hot mess sundae. 


It started again, he was charming, said all the right things, did all the right things, and like a fool I believed he really did change.  There was only one little problem with our perfect reunion...his new baby, and the fact that the baby's mom was a sorry excuse of a parent.  The next thing I know, we are sitting in a family law office speaking to a lawyer about 'him' getting custody of the baby.  Right around this time, I thought it would be awesome for us to live together so I went out and got my very first apartment.  I may have been a fool to get back together with 'him' but I was smart enough to think about covering my butt if things went downhill.  I was the only person listed on the lease, all the utilities were in my name so as far as anyone knew I was the only one living there. 


Of course by this time my mom knew we were living together. She had no idea how abusive he was to me the first time around.  After a few months and several court dates later, he was granted temporary sole physical and legal custody of the baby. We brought her to the apartment and I thought that I was going to have a happy little family.  I couldn't have been more wrong. 


Before long, I was the only one taking care of his baby, and bonding with her too.  I did everything for that little girl, not because I had to but because I wanted too. Her own biological mother had no interest in being there for her, so I tried to make up for that by making sure she knew how loved she was. I made sure to get her on a schedule, cuddled her every chance I got, gave her hugs and kisses every chance I got and told her I loved her. I treated her as if she were my own child.   


Not too long after she came to live with us he started coming home from work drunk...every single night.  It was only a matter of time before it started again, and it started right where it left off.  I tried my hardest to make sure this never went on in front of her....I wanted so badly to show her the love I felt like I never had from my father. I never wanted her to feel like I had felt growing up and as an adult.  I continued to allow him to be abusive, I stayed because I didn't want to leave her.  I wanted so much for her to actually be mine.  


Every time we would get into an argument I would call my mom because he wouldn't hurt me if I was on the phone with her, and I usually stayed on the phone long enough for him to get distracted with something. As soon as I heard him close the bathroom door I knew I was in the clear. Every night was the same routine, he would come home drunk cause a fight I would call my mom, he would get sick in the bathroom and then he would pass out in the bedroom.  Most nights I was able to avoid the physical part of it but not always.  


I started not being able to concentrate at work, and my stress levels were through the roof. I never wanted to go home after work and would feel sick to my stomach when he would pull up outside.  One night it all came to a head....my luck ran out and I wasn't able to get out of it again.  I won't go into the hairy details, but that night was the last straw for me. I couldn't take it anymore. The next day I met my mom after work for dinner and  told her what was going on and she told me what I needed to hear. She told me I deserved better and I could get better. She told me I had no other choice than to tell him he had to move out and that it was over.  I needed to understand that she wasn't my baby and never would be. I needed to get out now while I still could, and then we made a plan. 


I would go home, tell him it was over and that he had two weeks to get out of my apartment, then I would leave and go back to the restaurant where I  would meet back up with my mom. From there I would go to her house while she would head to the apartment and get some clothes for me.  Most of the plan worked the way it was supposed to, but instead of having her get my clothes I just barged in told him it was over, he had two weeks to get out and if he put one finger on me I would call the police, scream do whatever I had to do to get him arrested.  He just sat there. He let me get my stuff and leave without a fight.  I got in my car and I left for the last time. 

A few minutes after I pulled away my phone started ringing, I didn't answer the first 10 calls but I knew if I didn't answer it would just continue.  I finally answered and to my horror it was that precious little girl crying into the phone....he knew what that would do to me....he thought I would come screeching back to the apartment and everything would go back to his version of normal. I pulled over, hung the phone up and just cried, hearing her screaming for me felt like my heart was being pulled through my chest, and that description really doesn't do that feeling justice, it was so much more than that. I got a few more phone calls from him and I answered each one, and they were all the same. He would cry and tell me how sorry he was and how he would make it up to me.  I didn't fall for it, I knew it would never change and I had to be the one to break the cycle. 

A few days later a couple of friends decided they had enough of the mopey Jenny. They took me out for some cocktails and a good time, and towards the end of the night I started to let myself have some fun, after all I had a designated driver, I was of legal drinking age and dang it I hadn't had fun in so long.  I wasn't drunk, but I was warm and fuzzy for sure!  When we were leaving I asked the friend that was driving me to stop by my apartment for some more clothes. She asked me if I thought it was a good idea, and that maybe we should wait until the next day and send my mom to get the clothes.  Being warm, fuzzy and full of confidence I told her heck no and to get me over there.  Against her better judgement she obliged and off we went. 


When we got to my place I stuck my key in the door and it didn't work.  After we figured out that he had changed the locks I rang the doorbell like a crazy person.  As soon as he answered the door I knew something was up.....someone besides him was there.  I pushed passed him and headed for the bedroom......big mistake hahaha.  I opened the door to find his 'baby mama' laying in my bed,  in my brand new sheets and comforter I got for Christmas. I was beyond mad. I wasn't mad because he was already with someone, I was mad because of who it was, after everything I did for him and his baby to get her away from the worst mother I have ever encountered.....I was mad because I knew this wasn't the first time she had been in my apartment, I knew before but refused to accept it.  I'm sure you can imagine what when down from there.   It was then that he also switched personalities like he had done so many times before.  He was no longer the crying coward begging me to come back, he was the cocky , I'm going to do everything in my power to get back at you person.  This made it so much easier to be happy with the decision I made to leave that toxic relationship. 


I am so happy to say that this is the final chapter of that relationship.  I can also say that because I closed this door, a new one opened.  A door that has been full of surprises.....good ones.
  

Seven ...already???

Most of my friends were going to college right after high school, and I was extremely jealous.  I was happy for them to be starting a new chapter in their lives, but I was stuck.


I don't think I mentioned before that during high school many of my friends had jobs, working at the local movie theaters.  I was  jealous of that too, I wanted to get a job.....mom wouldn't let me work while in school because I was already not focused on that enough so the added distraction of working wasn't an option in her eyes.  After I graduated I  spent the rest of the summer with my friends getting into all kinds of shenanigans and was again going down the road of destruction.  In my heart I knew drinking wasn't a good idea. 


The thing about having an addict for a parent is that half of you is scared to death of becoming that  person, and the other half wants to have all the fun those bad things bring you.  I read somewhere that children of addicts are more likely to develop an addiction than that of their peers without.  How scary is that? I didn't realize it  but I was an addict. I was and still am addicted to food. 


College started and all my friends moved away. I was alone and rejected again.  I was doing nothing with my life and mom finally stepped in and told me I had two choices, get a job or go to community college.  The latter was not a choice for me in my eyes. I wasn't good at school the first time around so why would this be any different? So I got my very first job.  I got a job as a receptionist at a busy office and excelled at it.  For a while I looked forward to going to work and really enjoyed meeting people. I worked at an Escrow office so people were always in and out.  I made more money than anyone else I knew my age and I loved it.  

It was also this job that I was diagnosed with depression.  It's also when I started needing to hear that I did a good job, or that my co-workers and boss were pleased with my work.  It wasn't that I just liked hearing it...I needed it to function.  This isn't the reality of the workforce. Your boss and co-workers don't have time to tell you what a good job you are doing or how awesome you are...of course they have time to nit pick every little thing you do wrong.   When I would get reprimanded for doing something wrong it would consume me.  I would focus so hard on fixing that one thing, that I would neglect my other duties.  It was an obsession though, I couldn't help it. 


At work one day I was sitting at my desk and started to get a copper taste in my mouth and felt like I couldn't move.  The phone was ringing off the hook, but it was like I was in a trance, it completely freaked me out. Of course I got in trouble for that. We had a strict rule in the office that the phone couldn't ring more than twice unless you had a darn good reason for it to.  When I got home that night all I could think about was making sure I didn't do that again, I couldn't sleep that night .....over and over I kept telling myself that incident could never happen again, I had to make everyone happy. 


The next morning I was exhausted, but I got up and headed to the shower. I wasn't in the shower more than 10 minutes when I started feeling light headed, I knew I had to get myself out of the shower and ASAP because I was going to pass out. I yelled for my mom and sure enough by the time she came running I was out.  When I woke up a few minutes after that my mom had the phone in hand about to call 911.  As soon as I came around I started getting violently sick and very weak.  I had several more episodes like this over the next few weeks, including checking out at work, just like the first time. 

Long story short, I was having Absence Seizures  and  it was due to stress. I really wish I knew then what I know now about what was really going on with me.  Doc suggested I try stress relieving practices and that really helped for a while.  I had one more of those episodes, but that will be discussed later.


I have to apologize (again) for all of this jumping around, but I get it down as it comes, not to mention I get it down when I have the chance to have some kid free time....gotta love nap time =)  Hopefully it will get better as we get to the here and now, but in the mean time I really hope you find my story fascinating...maybe even relate to it on some level.

Simply six

The next three years of school are pretty much a blur with the exception of memories triggered by a song, or a feeling.  My Sophomore year of school was pretty much like my Freshman year with a steady weight gain.  By now I was used to being the fat friend, the one who none of the boys liked like 'that' but considered me one of their good friends.  I told myself this is where it was safe.  No one could break my heart in the friend zone.  I had a crush on each one of my guy friends at one point or another and would be so hurt when they liked someone else, or got a girlfriend.  It all led me to the same place,  this was the exact reason why my food was perfect.  It never hurt my feelings, was always there for me, made me feel good, and best of all NEVER rejected me. 

Over the summer going into my Junior year I went back to Arkansas and basically starved myself and when we would go out on the lake I would swim and do everything I possibly could to burn as much fat off my body as I could.  The week before I was to come home I started noticing my clothes not fitting, becoming looser....YES!!!!! It was working.  I remember getting off the airplane and meeting my mom, and the look on her face was priceless. It told me everything I needed to hear without saying a word. I looked so good! I got compliments all over the place from everyone about how good I looked and how much weight I had lost. I think in total I lost somewhere around 30lbs.  I was on cloud nine! 

Of course the other side of that was the inevitable downward spiral into feeling not good enough still...I should have lost more weight than that, I was still disgusting. So ...I ate....again. I gained most of it back, but not all...I found something more fun to do than eat. 

My Junior year my friends and I were non-stop on the go, one or the other had a license and car so there was no shortage of ditching, and going anywhere we could.  The weekends were filled with parties and being out until all hours of the night doing......well....I won't incriminate myself too much, but I am sure you can imagine...you were all teenagers once. 

Before I knew it I was a Senior, gained every last bit of that 30lbs back and then some. Nevertheless I was still having the time of my life.  I didn't care about going to school I had better things to do, more entertaining things.   It was all a facade, I wasn't having that much fun. I wanted everyone to think I was, so I did everything they did....I went along with whatever plan was set in motion to do everything we shouldn't have been doing...and sometimes more.  My relationship with my mom  was strained to say the least. We had always been very close and anyone can tell you the running joke then, and now is to 'cut the umbilical cord' we always did everything together and had as much fun as possible doing it.  I could tell my mom anything and knew I wouldn't be judged. We were always open like that. 

I saw how some of my friends' parents were, and felt lucky to have such an open mom. I wasn't afraid of telling her things.  So when I started doing all the bad things, staying out, stealing her car in the middle of the night...etc.. that closeness vanished, we stopped seeing eye to eye on a lot of things. For one I thought because I was almost 18 I could do anything I wanted, and obviously as any good parent would, she disagreed.   I knew she was a good mom and didn't deserve my lies and hateful words, but I couldn't help but be that person. I was out of control,  inside and out.  I was out of control with her because I was so out of control on the inside. Feeling guilty for doing all of the things deep down I knew I shouldn't have been doing, being mean to her and way too many others. 

Half way through my senior year I was told I wasn't on track to graduate and this wasn't a surprise, the summer before I had to go to summer school for bad grades and being absent.  This was different.  All of my friends were graduating and I didn't want to be the odd man out.  I broke down and told my mom and she did something for me that I will never be able to fully thank her for.  I don't know if I can ever express to her what her actions did for me.  

The next day I was sent to school with a list of tasks, I had to get a print out showing all my absent and tardy marks. I had to get a print out of my last  report card and contact information for all my teachers. Talk about sucky.  She wrote me an excuse note for every single tardy and absence.  Luckily I had done enough work in most of my classes to get a barely passing grade...except for one class.  This class I actually went to but because I sat next to other social butterflies, never did any work and was failing.  This was my English class.  I have always liked English, so on the rare occasion I did do the work, I always got good marks.  Mom convinced the teacher to let me do extra credit to get a passing grade so that I could graduate.  


Me graduating from High School was so important to my mom, because she didn't graduate. She met my father and left school to marry him. My teacher said, OK to the extra credit and I was told I had to write a 10 page report on a day in the life of a specific Author in their home town. I went so far above and beyond his requirements.....I wrote a 30 page paper, making it as detailed as possible. Researching everything on the author down to changing currency to his homeland currency.  I was so proud of that paper. I just knew I was going to get an A+++++ for it and I would graduate with my friends.  I went as far as to put the paper into individual protective plastic sheets in a binder with a cover ....I went all out. I wanted that A+. 

After class on Friday I presented my teacher with my awesome report.  He looked up at me over his glasses and didn't say one word, he just  took the report and went on about his business.  I was so disappointed at his reaction.   Finals started on Monday, I had studied all weekend doing the best I could for all of my classes. I passed all my final exams but had heard nothing about my extra credit report.   It was getting down to the wire, we had three days before graduation practice started and I hadn't heard anything about the report.  Finally just before the bell was going to ring to let us out, my teacher walked up to my desk and put the graded report face down in front of me.

I wanted so badly to snatch that report up and look at the grade, but I didn't,  I shoved it into my bag and waited for my mom to get home to look.  I wanted to show her the A in person so I could see her face and how proud she was going to be.  When she got home, I handed her the report without even looking at it, and she smiled and said great job honey. I'm proud of you.  I KNEW IT!!! I knew I got the grade I wanted and I couldn't get that paper out of her hand fast enough!!


C+.  I cried myself to sleep that night thinking once again I wasn't good enough. So all the next week ..I ate.  The day before everyone was going to start practice I was called into the counselors office.  I wanted to cry the whole way there, I just knew in my gut I wasn't going to be walking down the aisles with my peers waiting to receive that diploma. I knew in my gut I wasn't good enough.....and this time I had proof. 

I sat down in front of the counselor and waited for my bad news. He looked up at me and said, "I've been reviewing your file and I must say you have so much potential and yet you do nothing with it.  With your GPA you won't be able to get into a four year college.  However you will be able to attend a community college and with hard work you can eventually get into a University if you really want it."   I just sat there, I didn't care what he had to say, just tell me I'm a looser and I won't do anything with my life just like I had been telling myself.  Finally he said " Well I have good news, you are going to graduate with your class"  Ok great, can I just leave now......WAIT...WHAT?!  I just started sobbing in that poor mans office. He looked so uncomfortable.  When I was able to compose myself enough to stop crying, I wiped my tears, said thank you and left his office.   When I got home I called my mom and she already knew  and I could hear the relief in her voice. 

Graduating high school was by far one of the best days of my life.  I didn't understand then why I only received a C+ on that report when I worked so hard on it, but I do now and am so thankful that he even gave me the chance to do it. He wasn't obligated to let me do anything but he did. I know now that he didn't even read the report. My mom called him the day after I turned it in and he told her he had no intention of reading it, he just wanted to see that I made the effort to do it since I hadn't shown much effort the whole year. 



Thank you Mom,  you didn't have to do that for me but I know why you did.  I can never say thank you enough, and Thank you Mr. Young, you changed my life in a way that you'll never know.

High Five

I am going to go backwards a bit, because I feel like I am leaving out things that are all relevant to my journey, and how I got to the place I am now.  I'm sorry if that makes reading these hard, but a girls' gotta do what a girls' gotta do. 

When I was 8 my grandma was diagnosed with stage 4 non-Hodgkin lymphoma.  If you'd like to get the nitty gritty on that, you can read about it here.  As I said before in my earliest post I was extremely close to my grandparents and this was a beginning of an end for me.  My grandma researched all things cancer and treatment. She decided that eliminating and and all environmental things  she would be giving herself a natural cancer treatment. She went Vegan, cutting out everything that didn't grow from Mother Earth, and did other things like Wheat Grass colonic's and special all natural detox treatment centers, the whole shebang!  When she was diagnosed she was told that she had at most, and at best 6 months left before the cancer would take her life.  She lived three great years after that! 


During this time I ate as she ate, and led a relatively healthy lifestyle since I was with her most of the time.  When she died I was  devastated, the pain you feel in your whole body never really goes away when you loose a loved one, it just becomes a dull ache. 

Everything that I knew in my daily life was gone, and would never be back.  Grandma put me in dance class, had me take piano lessons and once we even took a Clogging class! We had so much fun in that class, and when it was over we would come back to her house, put on some Bluegrass music and dance around the house.  When she was gone....I didn't have those things anymore, and it really wasn't the dance or piano or classes....it was her, I didn't have her anymore. One of our most favorite things to do together was to lay in her bed and she would ask me "Jenny Jo, what would you like to talk about today?" and I would always say...Disneyland.   After she died I remember laying in her bed by myself wanting so badly to have that conversation just one last time.


As an adult, I often think about all of the things I never said to her as a kid, or the things I would do differently.... but don't we all do that?  Once she went to a treatment center in San Diego, and while there she found a street vendor who hand painted leather shoes with amazing scenery and brilliant colors. She bought two pairs of those shoes...one pair for her and one for me.  When she came home and gave me the shoes I thought they were the ugliest shoes I had ever seen and just knew I would be made fun of if I wore them to school. I tried so hard to look pleased and I know she saw the disappointment on my face.  I wore them once when I went out with her and then they sat in the back of my closet until they eventually disappeared. 


I wish I still had those shoes. 


She had gone to a different treatment center, and bought me an outfit  and mailed it to her house so that when we went down to visit her I could wear it for her.  My favorite color is purple and always has been, the outfit was purple with yellow and green flowers printed all over it, it was a small flower print so it made the outfit look really busy. It was a long sleeve button up shirt, with long pants.....did I mention it also had suspenders and a bow tie????? Again I was mortified, I hated that outfit, but I wore it for her once and never touched it again. 


I wish I still had that outfit. 


When I was in junior high, my weight skyrocketed and I was at the heaviest I had ever been at around 190lbs.  I was also about 4'10 so you can imagine I looked like an Oompa Loompa......but I had many friends and was always hanging out with someone. I was happy then, even with my grandma gone.  Guilt set in that I was happy even though grandma was gone and I ate everything in sight.  


Over the summer before I was to enter  high school I went to Arkansas and spent the summer with family.  I had a great time...unfortunately over the summer I developed a nasty rash that would NOT go away and it itched something fierce. It felt like no matter how much, or how hard I scratched the itching NEVER stopped. The rash was on the inside of my arms at the crook of my elbow and went down my forearms until it was almost at my wrists.  It was a living hell.  All day..itching...all night itching....we tried everything to help it, some things like cortisone cream would help for a few days, but then it would come back with a vengeance.





As if it isn't bad enough that I was now a Freshman in high school...the newbie...I had this ugly rash on my arms and face. I can only describe the rash on my face looking like clown make up, that huge red oblong smile thing they paint on....mine was worse.....it was flaky and scabbed and bight red...and itched incessantly.  So what did I do? I ate.....


Thankfully not long after I started school my mom had switched insurance carriers and we promptly got an appointment with a Dermatologist.  I was so excited that day! I wanted this stuff to be gone and forever! When the doctor finally came into the room, he looked at my face, and then down at my arms and with a tone in his voice that said... you idiot, I know exactly what it is he said..."Dear you have Eczema."  One word.... that was it....Eczema.....after living in my hell on earth for months, this guy just walked in and diagnosed me with a 10 second glance!!!! 

I picked up my prescriptions and didn't waste any time using them, and I swear it worked overnight. I woke up the next morning and it was almost all gone, and by the second day I was normal again!  Once my face was back to normal I met some new friends and was on my way to a wonderful high school experience.  My freshman year was a year of firsts for me, my first real crush, subsequently my first real boyfriend ( if that's what you want to call it hahaha) my first and certainly not last heartbreak, first fat insult hurled my way, and the first time I took a walk on the wild side.   I felt like I was having the time of my life. Looking at it from an adult perspective, while some of it was fun....most of it was self medicating, and stupid.  I was on a bullet train headed to Looserville. 

Four to go........

There were other relationships here and there, all of which were abusive in one way or another. Maybe the person I was with wasn't abusing me, but really me abusing myself.  I dated one person who was a drug addict.  He was a genuinely nice guy, he just had a problem. I was abusing myself by believing that I could cure him, abusing myself in putting up with all of his drug fueled antics.  Those relationships really aren't much of a conversation piece, because it all leads to the fact that I was an emotional cutter without the actual cutting...if that makes sense. 

After I sent the last winner packing, I was on a roll.  My job was going really well I was making really good money for my age and I didn't have many bills to pay....I was set really.  Except now I had turned to food, it was my new best friend.  People who struggle with addiction usually say the same things about their drug of choice.  The same can be said of food addiction.  I hadn't hit rock bottom or anything but I was in the middle of my addiction.  The beauty of being addicted to food is that it all tastes so dang good! This is going to sound so cliche but I ate my feelings. 

Every emotion was cause for eating, and boy was I good at it. I was an equal opportunity eater. In the midst of the eating I would go through bouts of hating myself for gaining weight, so I would go on one fad diet or another, I would see results from the get go, get excited and feel like it was OK for me to have something that wasn't on my diet.....from that point it was just a downward spiral of gaining all the weight back plus some.  It continued like that until I would hit a plateau.   During all of this I had gone to the doctor because I was always tired and never seemed to have energy to do anything, was either angry at everything or crying at anything.  I figured I needed to find out what was going on. Usually before you see anyone there is this painfully boring  little questionnaire to fill out asking about your health history.    I marked all the appropriate boxes and then got to the mental history........

Am I the only person out there that sometimes has no clue on how to answer some of the questions...like has anyone in your family ever had...insert weird random health problem, and I'm like, well my great great great great grandfathers uncle's nephew had that, so do I mark it??!!

I had heard things about my family, but nothing was ever confirmed.....or really denied for that matter. I had heard through the grapevine that depression ran in my family, so I said what the heck, I'll mark it yes and then talk to the doctor about it.  After getting labs done and ruling out that it was health related, the doc put me on Prozac.  I was also told by doc that it may help with weight loss since my moods would be more regulated.  Woohoo!! 


After being on the meds for a while, I hadn't noticed any change but everyone around me noticed a big change.  When one of my co-workers had mentioned that I seemed happier, I made it a point to track my own changes, and I was surprised at what I found. Things didn't make me angry instantly, I didn't cry at every little thing, like someone looking at me cock-eyed.  I was actually happy for the first time in a very long time....or was I??  Was I genuinely happy or was it the medication sending me to happy land??.....

I struggled with that question for months. I enjoyed feeling more like 'myself' but couldn't shake the feeling that somehow I was turning into a sort of happy zombie.  Whatever the answer I wasn't ready to stop taking the meds just yet, I wasn't done being happy.  Chugging along my yellow brick road, I didn't experience any weight loss....I had hoped it would happen but the bottom line was doc never said it would happen, just that it might.   In order to loose weight you have to eat the right things, exercise ..yadda..yadda...yadda....the problem with that is, I was happy....and I was enjoying food for the taste and experience, not because I had nothing better to do. 

I had a conversation with a friend of mine a few years back and we were discussing our food likes and whatnots, she is a sweets lover and I am a salty lover. I can pass up a brownie any day of the week for a box of french fries. Don't get me wrong, I do like sweets too, because as I said I am an Equal Opportunity eater, I just prefer fried foods, breads, pastas...all the yummy starch filled goodies! 


So how does this all involve my daddy issues and addiction?? When you break it down it really is so simple.  My father is an alcoholic,  the only thing that really matters to him is his drug of choice, not his family or the destruction of said family.  I was rejected by him.  From the gate I felt like I wasn't good enough for my own daddy, why would I be good enough for anyone else??

Three to get ready......

I was home just a few short weeks, when the happy, excited feeling of my last visit with my daddy had started to fade.  I hadn't heard from him since I got home. At first I thought nothing of it because I was getting back into the groove of my normal life in California.  I got hired at my very first job, an exciting time for a young woman. After getting settled into a routine I began to wonder why I hadn't gotten a call from Darryl. After all didn't we have such a wonderful time together?? Maybe he was busy.....maybe I needed to call him.....maybe........


I finally got up the courage to give him a call. It never ceases to amaze me the fear that pops up when I think about talking to him or seeing him, even though he has never been outwardly mean to me.  So I gave him a call after work one day, and the conversation felt forced on his part and at the end of it I was left with my feelings hurt.  I was hurt because I wanted to know what had changed in those few weeks since our reunion, I mean wasn't he happy like I was? It had been 10 years!  I talked to my mom about the conversation and the fact that the feelings of not being loved and not being wanted had surfaced again and I had no clue what to do with them.  She suggested I write him a letter or email and let him know how I felt.  I really didn't like that suggestion....I didn't want to be open and vulnerable...again.....but she was right. I needed to tell him my feelings. 

I sat on it for a few days before deciding I would send an email, I sat down and just poured my little heart out, telling him exactly what it feels like to be left twice. I wrote in the letter how much I wanted him to be in my life, and to share the things I was going through.  I pictured him getting the email, and crying...and feeling like he just had to call me up right away to straighten it all out. I pictured him being my Superman. I was naive. 


For days I checked my email religiously.....obsessively......nothing.  I finally gave up on it and on him.  I went on about my daily life trying to push him and my feelings to the back of my mind. All the while making up excuses in my head about why I haven't heard back from him. I opened up my email one day and there it was. I couldn't help but smile. I desperately wanted to open that email  and have the response I wanted....the response I needed.   I sat and stared at it for a good while,  as much as I wanted to open it and have it be everything and so much more than I wanted, I also felt like I could pass out at any second.   I finally gave in and opened it. Of course it was nothing I wanted and nothing I needed.....but it really was what I expected to get. I expected, because at that point in my life I had started to feel like I didn't deserve anything but that response. I deserved nothing more than that slap in the face...again.

I don't remember the entire email back to me, but I do remember a couple of lines : "I'm sorry you feel that way." ......really.....you're sorry I feel that way, because I could have sworn it has been your actions that made me 'feel this way' and my personal favorite " I've lived my life the way I wanted to, and not the way everyone else wanted me to and I don't regret it."  So you're telling me, you don't regret not having a relationship with your first born child....you don't regret leaving us stranded......you don't regret not being there for me as a daddy should be,  you don't regret the fact that you never paid any child support and that my mom subsequently had to work hideous hours just to make ends meet for us? You don't regret that because of those working hours she wasn't always there when I needed her?  It must feel good to not regret the way you lived your life........................


I should say now, that from this point I start having a series of awful relationships with guys that were less than stellar.  I felt like I didn't deserve any better.  I should also say that this is also around the time that my love for food developed.  I was never a skinny kid, so it's not like this love for food is all that new, but it was a different kind of love now.  

I didn't speak to Darryl again for a couple of years. At 21 I entered into a relationship that I thought was perfect, but painfully unhealthy to everyone on the outside.  It was during this relationship that my daddy issues crept up on me like a scene from a horror movie, or at least it seemed that way to me....I was the poor girl hiding in the closet from the masked killer. I was with a man, and I use the term man very loosely there....who was several years older than me, who had been in jail for domestic violence.  Should have been a red flag right?! Like so many other men who are abusers, he knew all the right things to say to me, and explained away why we had actually been in jail, and like a moron....I believed everything he said.

  The beginning, was wonderful he showed me attention and was affectionate...he wanted me and I held onto that for dear life. Those were the things that I needed so much from my father and I found them in this guy.  The abuse didn't start right away, it was a slow process......first the verbal abuse, kept to a whisper so no one else could hear.....words that cut like a knife, down to the bone. He knew exactly where my sore spot was and would push it like a button every chance he got.  I stayed.  I was young, felt like I deserved it, felt like no one else would love me for who I was....and every time he would say something hurtful to me it was followed up with..."I don't want to say those things to you, but you made me do it" this kind of repetition is what makes the abused woman really believe that it is all her fault and she is the bad seed in the relationship. 


After a while, the verbal and emotional abuse wasn't hacking it for him, so the physical abuse came into play. I make no excuses for this person because what he did was not right in any way, but I will say I was never punched...slapped or kicked.  However, those aren't the only means of physical abuse.  I remember the first time it happened.  I made 'him' mad, and we started arguing, I knew I pushed a button because the look on his face went from a mild anger, to sudden rage.  I was shoved into a chair and like a flying squirrel he was suddenly in the air flying at me ( obviously he didn't actually fly....) before I could move he was sitting on me, one hand on the top of my head and his hand clenching my hair just hard enough to where he could move my head and I would have to look in that direction...which was straight up at him.... and the other hand clamped down over my nose and mouth. I was so scared I couldn't see straight.....I tried not to move....he got really close to my face and started that awful rage filled whisper with spit running out the sides of his mouth.  I have tried so hard to remember what exactly he said to me, but I can't. I can only see the vivid mental picture in my head of his face...I can only feel the fear rolling off my skin ......that was the first and last time he would do that to me.....or so I thought. 


Shortly after this incident, I found out he had been seeing another girl and I sent him packing.  I was so proud of myself, because it took me weeks to get up the courage to break it off with him.  I was done, I was washing my hands of this nasty person and I would move on with my life, and no one would have to know the disgusting things he said and did to me.

Take two......

I know it's out of order here, but I feel compelled to say some things that I left out in the first post.

My mom and dad got divorced when I was 6 months old, so from birth until 6 months Darryl was actually a part of my life, if that is what you want to call it. I also want to say, that in the times I wasn't with Darryl my mom never said one bad or unkind word about Darryl to me, she wanted me to form my own opinion of him without any influence from her or anyone else.

The other thing is, I had a wonderful childhood with my mom, grandparents and close friends. The point of me getting this all out, is to A. Let it go...and B. to show how all of these events have led to the issues I have as an adult and working through those issues to be a better person, with better understanding of who I am. Lets get on with it.

I resumed my normal everyday life back in California with my grandparents and my mom, we ended up moving into a house down the street from my grandparents. I made friends with the neighbors, and to this day I still consider one of those awesome ladies a very good friend. I thought everything would be fine and I would move on from the recent events. Too bad that never really happens right away. From that point forward, it was always the same questions. Why doesn't my daddy love me, why am I not good enough for my daddy....you get the point.

These questions are left unanswered, and it is 10 years before my next contact with Darryl. I was getting my graduation announcements together, and decided to send one to my Aunt and uncle in Oklahoma. I can't really tell you why, but I lean towards the fact that my subconscious wasn't done with Darryl. In the mail they went, and I also sent an extra for Darryl, since I knew he was back in Oklahoma. I only knew this because my mom did keep in contact with my aunt off and on. Just about two weeks after I sent the announcement I received a phone call from my aunt, it was so exciting to hear from her and she wanted me to come to Oklahoma to visit and see everyone again, it had been far too long since we had all been together. This is where being torn on what to do comes back into play. I wanted so much to see them all again and relive the wonderful memories of my childhood stay. I also didn't know if I wanted to see Darryl, so I said I would love to come as long as I saw Darryl when and if I wanted. The plans were made, the flight was booked and soon I would be on my way to my Oklahoma home. I say home because it does feel somewhat like another home, that is where some of my family is. Just like the saying..."Home is where the heart is" a big chunk of my heart still resides in Oklahoma.

I get off the airplane and am greeted by my cousin Mellissa, looking exactly the same and yet very different. I was on a high...the kind that makes you feel like you are on a roller coaster just about to go down that huge drop...excited and stomach feeling like it will jump right out of your mouth at any second. We get to my aunts house, hugs going all around and feeling like I wanted to cry and throw up at the same time. I was relived to see that Darryl wasn't there, and yet found myself wanting to see him. This is all very confusing as a young adult, and sometimes it still feels confusing. We were getting ready to have dinner, when the door opened and there he was.............I wanted to break down and sob right then and there and scream at him WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO ME?! WHY DID YOU GIVE ME ALL OF THAT TO TAKE IT AWAY?! ....I couldn't because behind him stood a blond haired blue eyed girl....Ashley. My little sister.

I can't even begin to tell you how painfully awkward this all was, and still feels for me. I had wanted siblings my whole life, and often viewed my friends as surrogate brothers and sisters. I wanted for us to instantly connect and have it be like we had known each other since the beginning. Sadly it wasn't. Like I said it was painfully awkward, not just for me but for the three of us, daddy and his two girls. I can't speak for Ashley on her feelings, but I can only assume she was feeling as confused as I was. At that moment I decided I just needed to push the questions I had aside because I was more afraid of the answers than anything, but also because I wanted to be that 8 year old again, and have all the good times, and make happy memories.

The visit, for me seemed to have flown by and I had a wonderful time with my daddy again, and even went to a small family reunion where I was greeted with family I had never met, who all seemed to know who I was and wanted to make sure to tell me they loved me and missed me. What a nice feeling, to see so many people and have them say nice things to you. The time I spent there, Darryl's drinking hadn't changed, and this time it wasn't hidden from a child. I was an 'adult' so there was no need to hide it anymore. I had so much fun with my cousins again, and was again left with the feeling that I wanted that life....the life that included my daddy.

I was on my way back to my California home before I knew it. When I got home I was bombarded with questions....how was your trip, did you enjoy it, and the inevitable question of ....How was Darryl....are you OK? That is a hard question for me to answer at a mere 18. I thought I was ok, and I thought everything would be ok....again.......I spoke to Darryl a few times after I left and he asked me to come back and visit him, so we could spend time together just the two of us. The moment I had waited so long for had finally come. Darryl was starting to show me that he did care and he did love me........back to Oklahoma I go, I think it was only a month after my first visit. This visit was somehow different. In a way that I really started to feel a connection to him again. The awkwardness was gone, and it was just a father and daughter trying to catch up. That visit went by even faster than the first! Before I knew it I was back in California. This time I wasn't bombarded with questions, because I was so excited about it that I talked about him as soon as I got off the airplane.

I really wished at times after those visits that my mom would have sat me down and just told me the honest to goodness truth that he WILL disappoint me and it WON'T have a happily ever after ending. The reality of it is this, as a parent you don't want to, and can't hurt your baby like that. Seeing your child hurting, be it physical or emotional is down right gut wrenching. Why would you cause that pain by crushing the hopes and dreams of your baby? I understand now why she didn't say anything to me like that, and only because I have my own baby.

Daddy issues and addiction

It's hard to try and compact your life story into one blog post. I could type up a huge long novel hoping to keep readers attention, but that isn't the reality of it. So what I think I will do, is just break it up into several postings and go from there. I had an intense heart to heart with my mom the other day, it may not have been intense for her, but it certainly was for me.

It all started a couple days before that, when I was laying in bed ( thanks to a slight case of insomnia) and I really started thinking about what makes me tick, what makes me do or not do for that matter, everything, and I believe it all boils down to two things: Daddy issues and Addiction.

I am starting this series of blogs because I need to let go. I need to let go of everything that is holding me back, and not letting me be the person I want to be, let go of every nasty thing someone has said or done to me, let go of all the negative. I don't want you to think this is a pity party, because for me it isn't. This is my way of letting go. You either want to read or you don't, and I understand that.

I'm not really sure on where or how to start, because it is all a maze of things connecting in different ways that lead in different directions but ultimately ending in the same spot. I suppose I will start with my earliest memories........

I was never aware that something was different with my family until the age of about 5. How lucky we are to be young and oblivious. My first memory of Darryl is one of the few happy ones, I don't remember everything from that very first visit since I was only 5, but what I do remember is vivid. My mom was there, we were at McDonald's and it was different than the other McDonald's I had been in, it was like a train, and it had a gift shop. Meeting my 'daddy' was so exciting, he gave me a big hug and a little present. A pink pencil with a little pink bear charm that hung off of where the eraser would have been. From that point it gets fuzzy, maybe because I just honestly don't remember or maybe because I've blocked it out. I can only describe the memory from that very first encounter ( first that I remember anyway) as short and sweet. Later in my life I was told that on the drive home with my mom and grandpa, my grandpa asked me what I thought of my daddy, to which I replied...."I have the best daddy in the world" Little did I know what the best daddy in the world would actually do to my emotional health and stability later on in my life.

I didn't see him or remember any phone calls from him until about 6, when I received a birthday gift in the mail from him. It was a pair of jeans about 2 feet too long for me and a little set of bubble bath and lotion, which I didn't use, not because I didn't like it but because it was a treasure. I kept the jeans for as long as I could, until one day they were gone. I don't think my mom or grandma ( I don't know which one) got rid of the jeans for malicious reasons but simply because I couldn't wear them. I received and made maybe a handful of calls after that with Darryl. One of which was to inform me that I had a sister. Boy was that weird for a 6 year old. At that age I was confused as to HOW I actually had a sister when my mommy didn't bring home any baby. Of course, it was explained to me what that meant and I was over the moon! I was an only child until that point and all of my friends had brothers and sisters, to me it was the best news a girl could get! I couldn't wait to meet my little sister.........that didn't happen until I was much older.

The phone calls became increasingly fewer and farther in between, until I was 8. My mom told me after school one day that we would be going to see Darryl and my other family members in Oklahoma for a vacation. School wasn't out for me yet, so I had to do school work on our little vacation. On an airplane with school work and mom in tow, I was excited once again to see my daddy. From the moment we arrived until the day we left, was nothing but fun. I met my cousins, and we did everything together. There were trips to the zoo and a children's museum. Those were fun, but the absolute BEST memories from that trip were of spending time with my daddy, and having so much fun sitting around my Aunt's house while the grown ups would play their instruments and sing songs. Something out of a movie really. All the while being oblivious to what was happening between my mom and Darryl. When we got ready to come home, I didn't want to leave all of that, I didn't want to leave my daddy and this new found family life and all of the fishing and playing and music. Brings me to tears even now....but for completely different reasons than that of an 8 year old. I had the most wonderful life at home in California with my mom and my Grandma and Grandpa, but this was different....this was new.....this was what I had been missing, but didn't know it until it was in my lap. Sad really that an 8 year old would realize something like this.

Fast forward a few weeks, and I am told that my mom and Darryl were going to take a stab at getting back together and in order for this to work, we had to move to Oklahoma. I was so torn. I wanted that life, I wanted to be a family, I wanted to be with my cousins and do all of those fun things, but I didn't want to leave my grandparents, my school and my friends. At 8 I didn't have a choice obviously and away we went. The day we left in the U-haul is a memory that is burned into my brain ......I had a plastic bag with cassette tapes and my walk man in it, and a few other things to keep me busy during our 2 day drive, but that isn't what sticks out most.....it was watching my grandparents cry. Had I known what was going to happen....I would have lied, cheated and stole to stay with them. To say I had a close bond with my grandparents is really an understatement, and to this day I really can't fully describe it.

When we got to Oklahoma, we stayed at my aunt and uncles house until we got our own house. It all started just as our vacation did, amazing. This was it, this was finally my time.....we went fishing, I started Cheer leading, we had those family music nights, just as before. I wanted to go to the same school as my cousins, but couldn't. I had to ride a bus to my school that seemed like it was on the other side of the planet! In reality it was probably 2-5 miles from my house. My aunt was a crossing guard at my bus stop and everyday after school I would see her, and my cousins. She would make deals with my cousin and I, that if we got A's on our spelling tests or report cards she would give us a reward. This was really the beginning of the end I just didn't know it yet. When we moved into our own house, I started to see less and less of my daddy and I had no clue as to what was going on, I was enjoying everything else, so why would I see it?

One day after school, Darryl was supposed to pick me up at the bus stop. When I got off the bus I went over to my aunt, as I did every day and she told me my dad wasn't there yet, mind you my house was easily only two blocks from my stop, but I was 8 and it was a new place. I wasn't sure how to get home walking by myself there. After waiting what seemed to be an eternity for Darryl to come get me, my cousin Candy drove up and offered to take me home. We pull up in front of my house, the garage door is open, the car is in the driveway. Well, at least he was home right?? Candy walked me up to the door , it was locked. She knocked for far too long and then tried the door in the garage, thankfully it was open because the front door would have never been answered because Darryl was 'asleep' on the couch. Yeah he was passed completely out from drinking all day, there was no getting him up. I ended up going to my aunts house until my mom got off work. This was when i realized something was wrong.

Darryl is an Alcoholic and always has been. The drinking just got worse from there, and never stopped. Christmas is here I am on an airplane going home to California to see my grandparents. Again later I found out that my mom wanted to leave me there because she had already seen where their short reunion was heading. Darryl said no, that I needed to come back to Oklahoma and be a family. A few weeks later I got home from school went to my aunts house ( this became the regular since Darryl was either 'working' or at home drinking) to find my mom home from work early. We were going home to California. Again...later I was told that he left my moms car at her job, with a note. The note said something along the lines of " I didn't want it to end this way, tell Jenny I love her" nice huh?? My daddy was gone, and so was my new family life.