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Skye Moonstone (skyemoonstone) wrote,
@ 2002-11-16 16:38:00
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    Current mood: sad

    My hungry heart
    Okay, we're home again and I have to admit that I had a great time. It reminded me of when I was a teenager. It doesn't seem all that long ago until think about the fact that I am about 10-15 years older than most of them. I don't FEEL that old. I wonder if I look like it. I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm deliriously glad that that time in my life is over and done with. It just occurred to me that Rayne (my husband) is closer in age to those kids than he is to me. He is eight years younger than me. Usually it doesn't even cross my mind, but every once in a while I get a revelation and am stunned by the difference.

    Last night while reading another Geneen Roth book I decided that she's right, you know. I eat because I feel a lack of love. It never came from home. Most people have problems that their parents are responsible for causing, but I had the best home life when I was growing up. My problems started in the second grade when I suddenly realized that I was different from everyone else. I look back at my class pictures and see a sea of smiling little brown faces, these short, cute little children... and then there's me. Always at the back, always at the end. I am at least a head taller than all of the other kids and I am pale and freckled. Around the second grade I remember the taunts starting... "Whitey," "Creature from the white lagoon," "Ugly, ugly freckle face," "Jolly white giant," I could go on and on. Suddenly I was different. I hated going to school then. I always got great grades, but the thought of facing the other kids every day made me sick to my stomach. My hands started breaking out in little tiny blisters that itched. The doctor said it was from stress. I started to uncontrollably pull my hair out. It's called trichotillomania and the doctor said it was from stress. And worst of all, I started to gain weight. I don't think anyone even considered whether or not THAT was from stress. My parents ignored it, telling me I was beautiful. The doctor never even commented on it. Is that weird? I guess I had too many other problems for him to worry about. Over the years I learned to cope with my stress well enough to supress the itching blisters and the trichotillomania, but to do that I relied heavily on my best friend, my confidant, my therapist and love... Food. Food was so good to me. It helped me forget the teasing and the fact that I had horrid hands and patches of hair missing. It made me think only of the comfort I was getting from it's sweet, kind embrace. I loved food. It was the only thing that made it possible for me to make it through my childhood and teen years. After that I moved away from my forsaken birthplace and moved where there were more people like me. Tall and pale, some even had freckles. And suddenly everyone liked me. No one teased me because was white or tall or different. And I didn't need my old friend food anymore. I was overweight, of course. I couldn't have comforted myself for all those years without gaining insurmountable amounts of weight. But then it just started coming off. When I was upset or lonely or sad I would go back to my old friend food, but that wasn't very often. I was happy and my weight went down and stablized at something normal. Who would have imagined that???

    Unfortunately I am back at the place I was born and raised. Circumstances dictated that I come back. I will be here for three years. I thought for a while that things would be different, that now that I was grown and married I would be able to handle the pressures that arose. I thought that I had maybe even exaggerated the difficulty I had had growing up. But when I got back here I realized that nothing had changed. I hate it here. I am still the outcast. I got into an argument in the grocery store the other day. I was standing in line at the checkout and this woman came and pushed her way in front of me, as if I wasn't even there!!! I was shocked. As an adult, no one had ever been so openly rude to me before. I said, "Excuse me, " and she ignored me. I said, "Excuse me, I was in line before you." And she turned and sneered at me and said, "I don't think so. You go after me." What were my choices at that point? I didn't want to cause a scene. So I went to another line. When I looked over at her after that she smiled at me and stepped out of line and went back to shopping!!! I went home and cried so hard my husband couldn't understand what I was saying. I hate this place. Nothing has changed. I have been here for three months and have become a professional recluse and have gained 20 pounds. The only place I find friendship and solace is at church. They are the people I grew up with and they love me, just like my family does.

    Where was I going with this. I'm too tired to think about it anymore. I think I'll go back to bed and hide.



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