Beth A.
We all have a story, don't we? Even if you consider your life boring, there's still a story there, right?
I'll start with me now.
I am married to an awesome guy, Ron, and have been married 5 years. We have three children together: Kaitlyn, Kate, and Zach. We also have a beautiful dog named Daisy, but she does not realize she is a dog, so please don't spill the beans. I work for Arkansas BlueCross BlueShield in Little Rock, and I am so blessed because I love my job!!! I also have the best church family anywhere. Imagine a group of people, young and old, wealthy and broke, attractive and not so attractive, who are completely at ease telling each other that they know they are not perfect (quite the opposite) but they love God with all their heart, and want to help each other in their walk of faith and be Jesus to the world.
Now let's go to me then.
Every girl wants to be a princess. I was no exception. I wanted to be adored, frilly, and pretty. I lived in a world of make-believe, spending hours with my dolls and Barbies, building houses with Legos, and even incorporating my brother's GI Joe figures into play (much to his discontent). Of course, GI Joe was the hero, and I was the damsel in distress. In my make-believe world, I was beautiful and adored. When I was 9, I was sexually abused by someone very close to me. At the time, I thought I had done something dirty and wrong, that it was my fault.
I turned to food.
Not consciously, mind you, but I remember that certain foods made me less stressed, especially ones that took more effort to eat so I could savor it. This was the area that I controlled when everything else around me seemed to be falling apart. To look at me, my home and family, you'd never know. My parents were upstanding church going folks, hard working dad, stay at home mom, middle class financially. So no one around me, including me, could figure out why I cried my eyes out, nearly to the point of hysteria, before school every day in fourth grade. They brought in the school psychologist, who I remember was an idiot (this was a fourth grader's opinion) and the psychologist gave up on me after a few sessions. So my secret was safe. As I continued to self medicate the pain with food, I was hitting that awkward stage that young girls go through, hormones and all, and of course more calories+less activity+hormones wreaking havoc=a bigger me. I saw the disappointment in my father's eyes when he looked at me. I can still hear it: "Why are you eating that? You're so fat now you can hardly waddle." Even though truthfully I wasn't abnormally large. I was overweight, yes. But my picture of myself in my head became one of this grotesque, ugly, unlovable little girl. It did not help that I have a naturally thin athletically gifted brother. I call him the "Golden Child". Oh by the way, he also tans beautifully and has been told more times than I care to admit that he could be Tom Cruise's brother. Me? I've been called Mimi from the Drew Carey Show.
Okay, so the years go on and I remain overweight until 8th grade, then I go the other extreme and become borderline anorexic. I felt so in control! But then my hair started falling out and a good friend who was seriously anorexic landed herself in the hospital hooked up to IV fluids. She still struggles with it, but she is healthy (not to mention gorgeous). As I entered high school, I became a "choir chick", and this was my outlet. But even that was a limited outlet. I constantly compared myself to the other girls, "skinny girls". I look back at pictures of me from that time period and although I was overweight, I was by no means grotesque, as I pictured myself. I was in an exclusive singing group, only 8 of us, and while i loved performing and being part of this elite group, the 3 other girls in the group were thin, painfully thin. And then there was me. I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. But okay, enough high school. I went, I saw, I made it through.
I was pretty sheltered to say the least growing up. I had no idea what was out there in the world. I sort of freaked when I went to college (UCA), and I did not have all my good friends around me. I had a great roommate, but she had her circle of friends and was gorgeous, naturally thin, and still is! I missed my mom. I lasted a semester and came home to take classes at Pulaski Technical College. I stared working at Blockbuster Video and had decent hours that worked well for going to school. I HATED the fact that I had to tuck my shirt in. Again, looking back at pictures, I was really kind of cute.
Then HE happened.
I started dating a guy I met while working. He was quite a bit older than me. For years and years I blamed myself, just like when I was 9, but the truth is he raped me.
A few more years went by, working, going to school off and on, weight fluctuating here and there. I started hiking mountains when I was 20. I LOVED it. Loved the challenge, loved the fact that I was in control and finally, I was good at something physical! I was healthy, in great shape (adorable legs, let me tell ya) and happy. I discovered alcohol at age 21, and fell in love with the party scene because I was adored. Outgoing, friendly, flirtatious, and yes even cute...I was the life of the party. Then I discovered the power of sex. I can look back now and see that I used it as a weapon. I wanted to hurt the one who hurt me, but since he wasn't around to hurt I lashed out at other men. I was in control (see a pattern?). It wasn't long before I became pregnant. That calmed me down for a time, and I love my daughter. She is the BEST! But I reverted back to old ways. It wasn't until my marriage was falling apart from my lying and infidelities that I realized the problem was ME, that I had allowed the things that had happened to me to twist me into someone unrecognizable even to myself. I had an awesome therapist who not only helped my husband and I work through that horrid time period, but he held my hand as I relived the pain of years past and helped me to take responsibility for my actions and the consequences that came of those actions. So when did the weight pile on like this? I think it is a combination of getting older and just not paying attention. Now it is the same 10 pounds that come and go no matter what I do.
Future outlook: I want to be a better me, a better wife, Christian, mother, daughter, sister and friend. I want to be healthy. I do not want to be in control anymore. I want to be able to let God have control.
