ShelliR
A little about me.........
I haven't always been morbidly obese as I am now, or even obese,....but I've always been "fatter" than I should have been. I know, because my step-dad told me over and over and over again from the time I was about 6. My mom married him when I was 5 and it was absolutely the worst possible thing that could have ever happened to me...it almost destroyed me. I was ripped from my grandmothers loving home and taken into a world of abuse that you see on TV and makes your skin crawl. I'm here, I lived,..but I don't know how. God? Perhaps....but I doubted that. I didn't think HE was around much, since none of my cries for help ever seemed to be answered or acknowledged in any way. As the years went by and the abuse grew worse, I found solace in food. There wasn't much love to be found, but there always seemed to be food around. OK...I'll take it, I thought. There were the times when I'd be locked in my room and my mom would be scared for me, especially if I cried too loudly. She would slide cheese slices (or whatever would fit) under the door so I would stop crying....and miraculously, I did stop crying. I know that she was afraid too. She claims she didn't know about all of the abuse (I find that to be BS) but she's old now....what can/should I do to make her pay for the pain I endured? I see her as frail now and tend to see past all of her flaws and can only see the warped mind and skewed visions of "what could have been".....I can't punish her....she's been punished enough, I think. So anyway, the years went by and the abuse steadily progressed until I couldn't take it anymore. I started running away from home and I don't mean down the street. I would steal his car and drive as far across the country as my meager funds would get me. I was 13 when that started. But of course, someone always dragged me back there....even my priest. He was a high ranking Marine, for heavens sake,...she must be wacko is what I'm sure everyone thought.
Verbal, emotional, physical and then sexual abuse.....it's enough to kill a person. For whatever reason God just wouldn't let me die. I begged, but that went unheard, so I thought. I was angry. I was damned angry, but always found a way to soothe my aching heart....with food.
I had my first daughter (Nikki, now 26) at the tender age of 16. She was my BLESSING. The knowledge of my pregnancy was terrifying and scandalous, but I soon began to see it as something else. To whatever higher power that allowed such a sweet gift to be bestowed upon me....thank you. That's all I could think or say. She and I were so happy. But unfortunately, the food was still a very large part of my life and it covered up all of the "bad" feelings that I still carried. Having walked away from my father without so much as a wave or a goodbye, I had started to claw my way back into "normal" civilization, if for no other reason than for my beautiful Nikki. But I had my share of problems .....because with the homelife that I had, you must already be able to guess what type of men I would choose. Yep! So my days of abuse were not over and I suffered some more. But when I would raise my battered head, she would always be there, looking at me with her sweet, angelic face. My ex husband, who has changed his ways now, was just a tangled mess of rage and couldn't control his alcohol usage....you know the story. I had to get her away from this, so I moved to another state and started college. I grew, and it was the best time of my life, but I found out that I was pregnant again. I never did tell Jessica's father until she was almost 5, that she even existed....I didn't need the nonsense and neither did she. That's OK, I thought...it will be just us girls. And when my baby Jessica was born 21 years ago, it became the 3 Musketeers. No man was EVER allowed into my home. NEVER. I couldn't risk it....risk them. And we had a ball, the 3 of us together. We really did have a good time while they grew up. I worked hard and they were EVERYTHING to me. I continued to grow and to learn about the world from a normal view, rather than from a battered heap always looking up, only to be blinded by the sun. I started to see the sun for it's beauty and I started to enjoy my life. My children are absolutely the saving grace in my life, and I know that. Without those 2 beautiful girls (now beautiful women), I'm not sure what would have become of me. I cringe to think about it. But even during that growth, I still carried all of that "stuff", all of the past pain with me and the food was still my medication.
Eight years ago I met Tom...the love of my life and one of the smartest, nicest people you could ever meet. The guy did everything he could to make me understand that he was "good", that he wouldn't hurt me. He tells people that I tested him for 4 or 5 years and that's probably true. Yes!!!, it is true, I will have to admit it. But he's really turned me around in the way that I think about things. For whatever reason, I had a sucky childhood and it was tough at times raising 2 girls alone, but I made it through...I lived to tell about it and I've learned from it and I really believe that I'm happier for it. Well, I know what "good" is now....because I've experienced the "BAD". And for that, I'm very appreciative. I've also learned one other valuable piece of information....there is a God!!. Maybe HE didn't show his face to me or speak to where I could hear HIM, but I absolutely must beleive that HE was there,...through all of it. There is no way I could have survived some of it (and I've left the graphic details out so as not to frighten you too badly). There's more...way more!!...but I'm OK. Yes, I am. Thank you God. Thank you for helping me through those times and giving me the 3 greatest joys I will ever know. Nicole Denise, my "mommy's girl", my best friend, my heart. Jessica Marie, my very intelligent, super smart, very spoiled lovey...(how could she not be spoiled with her sister and I catering to her every whim?)...and there's my Tom...what can I say? I found him when I was 35 years old.... by accident. I surely wasn't looking. We have a nice home and nice cars and there's no screaming or yelling within the walls of our home. He's kind and gentle and although he can never really truly know what I feel because of the abuse,....he tries to just "be there" for me. That's all I can ask of him. Thankfully I found him when I was young enough to enjoy this kind of love and enjoy my life. I can actually say that I know what that feels like. There was a time when I didn't even know this kind of life existed. THANK YOU GOD!
But there's more than just 3 joys now..........I have 4 grandchildren that just light up my world. Keith is 6, Magan is 4, Max is 2 and Riley, ...well Riley's just a little guy at 7 months. But his smile can outshine the sun and can still bring tears to my eyes. THANK YOU GOD. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My daughters are my biggest blessing and there is nothing that will ever change that. I worship them and they know it. My oldest had a not so nice marriage, just like me, but we got her away from that. She's so "good". She's so caring of people (regardless of color, race, disability...etc). She's just a wonderfully nice person. She'll be moving to Rhode Island soon, so we can be together all the time. She'll be attending Johnson and Wales University so that she can become a chef. That's her calling. How awesome is that? Then my youngest is studying to be a nurse. She's so kind and understanding to her patients....she always treats them with such dignity. She's suited for this type of work and I'm SO SO proud, that I can't even tell you. I can't begin to explain how lucky/honored I feel to have brought 2 such wonderful human beings into this world. They will make a difference!!....for the good.
So the saga continued when I had to fly to Arizona to bury my father 2 years ago, I wasn't sure if I could do it. But I did. I had to...there was no one else. My younger brother was ruined by him too and he's spent most of his adult years in prison, so that left me *sigh*. My mom divorced my dad and moved away and he had no one. Sometimes that seems very sad to me and other times I just say that it was God's way of punishing him. But what do I know? All I know is that he didn't have anyone, didn't have 2 cents to his name when it was all said and done, went half nuts and lived in darkeness due to cataracts. His house was creepy and I felt him there when I was there. But I thought long and hard about what to do....and I found his military uniform and had him buried with some of his stuff, in a beautiful steel grey casket with the american flag inside.....and it was nice. Did I do it for him or for myself???.....I still don't know and can't answer that yet. I sat in the middle of his living room floor and went through every last piece of paper in his house and saw just how "crazy" he was. I took almost 3 weeks and just stayed in AZ getting to know my father. In the end, good or bad, he was my dad....and I had to claim him. I wanted to know, and I do know the whole truth now. Being a Marine, he saw many things in war and I believe that is where his mind initially broke. My dad was a soldier!! I have the documents and ribbons and purple hearts...my dad was a war hero many times over. That's all he knew and he took satisfaction in killing the enemy without blinking an eye.....some of the paperwork in his house showed that I, in fact, was the enemy too (adoption papers). *SIGH* What do you do with that kind of information? How are you supposed to feel? He's all I ever knew....and I knew he never wanted me......he just adopted me so my mom would marry him. How sad. I wish they had just left me behind with my grandma. That's how it should have been.........but........then there's real life. I hadn't laid eyes on him since I was 17 and his funeral director was very sensitive to the small parts of the story that she knew about our family. She was very supportive of my need to "talk" to him......so they wheeled him into the chapel, covered him nicely and put a chair in front of him. And I sat just talking away, crying, yelling, then talking some more. I told him EVERY single thing I ever wanted to say to him.... I still felt scared of him and even thought he moved once, which sent me running for the door (LOL.....I know! you can laugh). But when I laid him to rest at the Veteran's Cemetary (just me and my mom there) in Phoenix, I knew I would never go back there again. It was a beautiful sunny place and the cemetary was one of the nicest I'd ever seen....not creepy at all. It's the dessert and it was alive with rabbits and birds and the sun was shining.....I walked away knowing he would be OK there. And I would be OK at home. He was gone and I felt something like peace......and I could truly live now. I have definitely found some peace and contentment and have such a nice, happy life, that I will NOT waste it drowning in that sorrow. .............So began my journey into the idea of WLS and here I am, like many of you, still struggling to jump this hurdle 2 years later.
My relationship with my mom is much better now. We talk and I'm trying to understand everything. I've forgiven her for not protecting me or my brother, but she was in her own hell, I suppose. She's old and I've taken the responsiblity of looking after her and will be moving her from Oklahoma to Rhode Island very soon. After so many years, she's very happy and appreciative to have me back in her life and is very proud that I'm OK and doing so well. Tom and I have built a wonderful family structure and it's just darn GOOD! But there's so many things that need to be addressed so that I can make my surgery "work" for me. I've entered into counceling and will deal with those things that need dealt with, but mainly I need to address my emotional eating problem. I know it's there and I can't deny it any longer. I can't just walk around blaming that on my dad, because in all honesty, I just don't think about him all that much these days. I must take responsibility and I AM doing that. I'm 42 now. Jeez. Nothing like finally "getting it". lol. But better late than never.
THANK YOU GOD!! I really do get it now!! You were always there. And I'm sorry if I ever doubted that (and I did doubt it...MANY TIMES). But thank you for forgiving me and understanding why I doubted YOU. I definitely hate being fat because I can't live as I want to...and boy, do I have so much to live for. But I have people in my life who love me for me....and that's just a terrific feeling. They support me, even when they're very scared for me (my decision)...but very supportive nonetheless. I wouldn't recognize or understand that if it weren't for YOU. So for that, I'm soooooo grateful. I smile and I'm happy and I really have so much. And that is why I write this story. It's not so everyone can know how bad it was for me, or so that people will feel sorry for me....quite the opposite. I want to reach the people like me. And I know they're out there. It can get better; WILL get better. And if they need me for any reason, need to talk, want to cry on my shoulder,........I want to be here for them. Now I understand your plan.......That's why I'm HERE! I figured it out GOD!
When I stumble, I know you're there.....You Raise Me Up! Thank you Lord!
I haven't always been morbidly obese as I am now, or even obese,....but I've always been "fatter" than I should have been. I know, because my step-dad told me over and over and over again from the time I was about 6. My mom married him when I was 5 and it was absolutely the worst possible thing that could have ever happened to me...it almost destroyed me. I was ripped from my grandmothers loving home and taken into a world of abuse that you see on TV and makes your skin crawl. I'm here, I lived,..but I don't know how. God? Perhaps....but I doubted that. I didn't think HE was around much, since none of my cries for help ever seemed to be answered or acknowledged in any way. As the years went by and the abuse grew worse, I found solace in food. There wasn't much love to be found, but there always seemed to be food around. OK...I'll take it, I thought. There were the times when I'd be locked in my room and my mom would be scared for me, especially if I cried too loudly. She would slide cheese slices (or whatever would fit) under the door so I would stop crying....and miraculously, I did stop crying. I know that she was afraid too. She claims she didn't know about all of the abuse (I find that to be BS) but she's old now....what can/should I do to make her pay for the pain I endured? I see her as frail now and tend to see past all of her flaws and can only see the warped mind and skewed visions of "what could have been".....I can't punish her....she's been punished enough, I think. So anyway, the years went by and the abuse steadily progressed until I couldn't take it anymore. I started running away from home and I don't mean down the street. I would steal his car and drive as far across the country as my meager funds would get me. I was 13 when that started. But of course, someone always dragged me back there....even my priest. He was a high ranking Marine, for heavens sake,...she must be wacko is what I'm sure everyone thought.
Verbal, emotional, physical and then sexual abuse.....it's enough to kill a person. For whatever reason God just wouldn't let me die. I begged, but that went unheard, so I thought. I was angry. I was damned angry, but always found a way to soothe my aching heart....with food.
I had my first daughter (Nikki, now 26) at the tender age of 16. She was my BLESSING. The knowledge of my pregnancy was terrifying and scandalous, but I soon began to see it as something else. To whatever higher power that allowed such a sweet gift to be bestowed upon me....thank you. That's all I could think or say. She and I were so happy. But unfortunately, the food was still a very large part of my life and it covered up all of the "bad" feelings that I still carried. Having walked away from my father without so much as a wave or a goodbye, I had started to claw my way back into "normal" civilization, if for no other reason than for my beautiful Nikki. But I had my share of problems .....because with the homelife that I had, you must already be able to guess what type of men I would choose. Yep! So my days of abuse were not over and I suffered some more. But when I would raise my battered head, she would always be there, looking at me with her sweet, angelic face. My ex husband, who has changed his ways now, was just a tangled mess of rage and couldn't control his alcohol usage....you know the story. I had to get her away from this, so I moved to another state and started college. I grew, and it was the best time of my life, but I found out that I was pregnant again. I never did tell Jessica's father until she was almost 5, that she even existed....I didn't need the nonsense and neither did she. That's OK, I thought...it will be just us girls. And when my baby Jessica was born 21 years ago, it became the 3 Musketeers. No man was EVER allowed into my home. NEVER. I couldn't risk it....risk them. And we had a ball, the 3 of us together. We really did have a good time while they grew up. I worked hard and they were EVERYTHING to me. I continued to grow and to learn about the world from a normal view, rather than from a battered heap always looking up, only to be blinded by the sun. I started to see the sun for it's beauty and I started to enjoy my life. My children are absolutely the saving grace in my life, and I know that. Without those 2 beautiful girls (now beautiful women), I'm not sure what would have become of me. I cringe to think about it. But even during that growth, I still carried all of that "stuff", all of the past pain with me and the food was still my medication.
Eight years ago I met Tom...the love of my life and one of the smartest, nicest people you could ever meet. The guy did everything he could to make me understand that he was "good", that he wouldn't hurt me. He tells people that I tested him for 4 or 5 years and that's probably true. Yes!!!, it is true, I will have to admit it. But he's really turned me around in the way that I think about things. For whatever reason, I had a sucky childhood and it was tough at times raising 2 girls alone, but I made it through...I lived to tell about it and I've learned from it and I really believe that I'm happier for it. Well, I know what "good" is now....because I've experienced the "BAD". And for that, I'm very appreciative. I've also learned one other valuable piece of information....there is a God!!. Maybe HE didn't show his face to me or speak to where I could hear HIM, but I absolutely must beleive that HE was there,...through all of it. There is no way I could have survived some of it (and I've left the graphic details out so as not to frighten you too badly). There's more...way more!!...but I'm OK. Yes, I am. Thank you God. Thank you for helping me through those times and giving me the 3 greatest joys I will ever know. Nicole Denise, my "mommy's girl", my best friend, my heart. Jessica Marie, my very intelligent, super smart, very spoiled lovey...(how could she not be spoiled with her sister and I catering to her every whim?)...and there's my Tom...what can I say? I found him when I was 35 years old.... by accident. I surely wasn't looking. We have a nice home and nice cars and there's no screaming or yelling within the walls of our home. He's kind and gentle and although he can never really truly know what I feel because of the abuse,....he tries to just "be there" for me. That's all I can ask of him. Thankfully I found him when I was young enough to enjoy this kind of love and enjoy my life. I can actually say that I know what that feels like. There was a time when I didn't even know this kind of life existed. THANK YOU GOD!
But there's more than just 3 joys now..........I have 4 grandchildren that just light up my world. Keith is 6, Magan is 4, Max is 2 and Riley, ...well Riley's just a little guy at 7 months. But his smile can outshine the sun and can still bring tears to my eyes. THANK YOU GOD. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My daughters are my biggest blessing and there is nothing that will ever change that. I worship them and they know it. My oldest had a not so nice marriage, just like me, but we got her away from that. She's so "good". She's so caring of people (regardless of color, race, disability...etc). She's just a wonderfully nice person. She'll be moving to Rhode Island soon, so we can be together all the time. She'll be attending Johnson and Wales University so that she can become a chef. That's her calling. How awesome is that? Then my youngest is studying to be a nurse. She's so kind and understanding to her patients....she always treats them with such dignity. She's suited for this type of work and I'm SO SO proud, that I can't even tell you. I can't begin to explain how lucky/honored I feel to have brought 2 such wonderful human beings into this world. They will make a difference!!....for the good.
So the saga continued when I had to fly to Arizona to bury my father 2 years ago, I wasn't sure if I could do it. But I did. I had to...there was no one else. My younger brother was ruined by him too and he's spent most of his adult years in prison, so that left me *sigh*. My mom divorced my dad and moved away and he had no one. Sometimes that seems very sad to me and other times I just say that it was God's way of punishing him. But what do I know? All I know is that he didn't have anyone, didn't have 2 cents to his name when it was all said and done, went half nuts and lived in darkeness due to cataracts. His house was creepy and I felt him there when I was there. But I thought long and hard about what to do....and I found his military uniform and had him buried with some of his stuff, in a beautiful steel grey casket with the american flag inside.....and it was nice. Did I do it for him or for myself???.....I still don't know and can't answer that yet. I sat in the middle of his living room floor and went through every last piece of paper in his house and saw just how "crazy" he was. I took almost 3 weeks and just stayed in AZ getting to know my father. In the end, good or bad, he was my dad....and I had to claim him. I wanted to know, and I do know the whole truth now. Being a Marine, he saw many things in war and I believe that is where his mind initially broke. My dad was a soldier!! I have the documents and ribbons and purple hearts...my dad was a war hero many times over. That's all he knew and he took satisfaction in killing the enemy without blinking an eye.....some of the paperwork in his house showed that I, in fact, was the enemy too (adoption papers). *SIGH* What do you do with that kind of information? How are you supposed to feel? He's all I ever knew....and I knew he never wanted me......he just adopted me so my mom would marry him. How sad. I wish they had just left me behind with my grandma. That's how it should have been.........but........then there's real life. I hadn't laid eyes on him since I was 17 and his funeral director was very sensitive to the small parts of the story that she knew about our family. She was very supportive of my need to "talk" to him......so they wheeled him into the chapel, covered him nicely and put a chair in front of him. And I sat just talking away, crying, yelling, then talking some more. I told him EVERY single thing I ever wanted to say to him.... I still felt scared of him and even thought he moved once, which sent me running for the door (LOL.....I know! you can laugh). But when I laid him to rest at the Veteran's Cemetary (just me and my mom there) in Phoenix, I knew I would never go back there again. It was a beautiful sunny place and the cemetary was one of the nicest I'd ever seen....not creepy at all. It's the dessert and it was alive with rabbits and birds and the sun was shining.....I walked away knowing he would be OK there. And I would be OK at home. He was gone and I felt something like peace......and I could truly live now. I have definitely found some peace and contentment and have such a nice, happy life, that I will NOT waste it drowning in that sorrow. .............So began my journey into the idea of WLS and here I am, like many of you, still struggling to jump this hurdle 2 years later.
My relationship with my mom is much better now. We talk and I'm trying to understand everything. I've forgiven her for not protecting me or my brother, but she was in her own hell, I suppose. She's old and I've taken the responsiblity of looking after her and will be moving her from Oklahoma to Rhode Island very soon. After so many years, she's very happy and appreciative to have me back in her life and is very proud that I'm OK and doing so well. Tom and I have built a wonderful family structure and it's just darn GOOD! But there's so many things that need to be addressed so that I can make my surgery "work" for me. I've entered into counceling and will deal with those things that need dealt with, but mainly I need to address my emotional eating problem. I know it's there and I can't deny it any longer. I can't just walk around blaming that on my dad, because in all honesty, I just don't think about him all that much these days. I must take responsibility and I AM doing that. I'm 42 now. Jeez. Nothing like finally "getting it". lol. But better late than never.
THANK YOU GOD!! I really do get it now!! You were always there. And I'm sorry if I ever doubted that (and I did doubt it...MANY TIMES). But thank you for forgiving me and understanding why I doubted YOU. I definitely hate being fat because I can't live as I want to...and boy, do I have so much to live for. But I have people in my life who love me for me....and that's just a terrific feeling. They support me, even when they're very scared for me (my decision)...but very supportive nonetheless. I wouldn't recognize or understand that if it weren't for YOU. So for that, I'm soooooo grateful. I smile and I'm happy and I really have so much. And that is why I write this story. It's not so everyone can know how bad it was for me, or so that people will feel sorry for me....quite the opposite. I want to reach the people like me. And I know they're out there. It can get better; WILL get better. And if they need me for any reason, need to talk, want to cry on my shoulder,........I want to be here for them. Now I understand your plan.......That's why I'm HERE! I figured it out GOD!
When I stumble, I know you're there.....You Raise Me Up! Thank you Lord!
