HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - THE FINAL CHAPTER

Some may think I am out of my ever loving mind to tell all, to air my dirty little secrets or my dirty laundry and can’t understand why I would want to do so. It could possibly be seen as a way to get attention or to convey “the woe is me” mentality. Will admit it was partly for myself but only in hopes of finally solving some issues that have plagued my life for many years. I’m one who needs to solve everything and find out reasons for why things happen. Although never being science oriented, if forensics had been all the rage back then as it is now, would have received a double major in criminology and forensic science.

To the reader this piece of work undoubtedly was considered autobiographical but to this writer it was strictly therapeutic. You can think on these things (that sounds biblical) and about these things but writing them down with such thought provoking agony (and it was) is a whole different ballgame. The eyes are open to really see what should have been so obvious and you face some rude awakenings. There is anger. There is sadness. There are tears. Focus is changed. Perspectives and philosophies are re-evaluated. A new determination emerges.

There is an end to every good book (not that this was)--a final chapter; an epilogue. But how do you conclude a seemingly life story that is still ongoing? Covered a lot of areas. Revealed a lot of baggage. Confessed to shameful acts. Admitted to failure of transforming many flaws. A fitting end to a seemingly therapy session would be a summary and diagnoses.

In retrospect believe the onset of unhealthy eating habits and subsequent eating disorder stemmed from my best friend moving away. Eating disorders are complicated and vary in form but most would agree that all involve a control issue. That always was the truth for me--the only thing I could control. Over the years the cycles changed and the intensity fluctuated but one thing remained constant--when faced with a myriad of difficulties, the focus became the food and exercise merry-go-round. And, yes, let’s not forget to add a little bit of that obsessive compulsive disorder for good measure. I may be overly ritualistic in the exercise department and won’t take a break unless literally puking my guts out, but I can do whatever is necessary.

Could counsel anybody in the proper ways of getting into shape. Am aware what needs to be done and know that I won’t get fat or lose control again but have difficulty conquering those thought processes that tend to lead toward regression. (Maybe another reason for the adage, “Do as I say; not as I do.”) Possibly it relates along the same lines as to why an alcoholic can’t stop drinking and a drug addict can’t stop using, although for me these addictions would be much easier to relinquish--you can live without booze and drugs, but you can’t live without food.

I’ve taken special notice of those women with meat on their bones such as Rachel and Giada from the Food Network Channel and like the muscular arm look. Will admit to being hooked on protein shakes and bars but better that than milkshakes and candy bars. However in all this mumbo jumbo one thing has changed, I do not want to lose any weight because it will inevitably be in the wrong places. (Let’s just say, I don’t think a job at Hooter’s is in the cards.) But I still won’t get on a scale. After almost 40 years, I now realize that long-held truth was a fallacy--I am not in control of the disease, the disease is in control of me.

Most of the shrinks I encountered would undoubtedly link the eating disorder with the depression and some have suggested that the depression was the result of a chemical imbalance. Since drug therapy is not an option, I would have to find alternative methods but will admit that when I don’t eat enough, am overly tired, or it’s that time of month I tend to notice a more disheartened spirit.

On Oprah several months ago a psychologist described depression--going through the motions, no joy, it lays dormant, hopelessness, helplessness, worthlessness, overwhelming guilt about everything and at anytime. Yeah, that sounds about right. Have fought this battle a long time and although don’t consider myself to be in quite the dire mess as in years’ past, there are still times when all of a sudden, for no apparent reason an overwhelming cloud of melancholy lingers. It’s frustrating. It’s disconcerting. It has consumed me with self-hatred. Always heard that you can’t love anybody else if you don’t love yourself. Although I don’t agree and have loved many people, just not myself, maybe the depth of the love is limited.

Recently, I was one of several recipients of an e-mail from a former coworker who sent this particular story as a way to tell us that we had made an impact in her life. The story, which I’ll paraphrase, centered around two high school students, John and Kyle. While walking home from school on a Friday, John was looking forward to a weekend of fun and football. He noticed another guy walking home loaded down with seemingly every textbook. John thought he must be a nerd--who else would study so hard on a weekend. A group of kids approached Kyle, knocked the books out of his hands and tripped him. Kyle’s glasses flew off and landed several feet away. John saw the sadness on Kyle’s face. felt sorry for him, and raced over to offer some assistance. John called those kids a bunch of jerks. Kyle’s smile showed his gratitude. John and Kyle walked home together with John carrying part of the books. He liked Kyle as did his friends and hung out the entire weekend together. Over the next four years Kyle and John became best friends. On graduation night, Kyle gave the valedictorian address and expressed his gratitude to John for the valued friendship that saved his life. Kyle expounded on their first encounter. Kyle stated that he had emptied out his locker that Friday afternoon so his mother would not have the burden of doing it. Kyle admitted that he had planned on committing suicide that weekend, but John’s kindness altered the course of events. A poignant story for sure; a tear jerker to many. We never can predict how our actions will affect others.

Although never intentionally planned like Kyle, I have admitted to being plagued with suicidal tendencies and possibly using the anorexia subconsciously as an untraditional method of “doing the deed” because of a prior family member’s demise at his own hands. But many times over the years I wanted to die; wished I could die; cared less if I were to die. Who else would quit a job with medical benefits to take another one without. It has been over eight years since I’ve been to a medical doctor. Really don’t want to know if something is wrong and unsure if I’d do anything about it once diagnosed. Up until not too very long ago if given a death sentence, my first thought--relief. Pathetic I know, but true nevertheless. Dad’s troubles the past few months have reminded me of the importance of having medical benefits. It can be financially devastating. Also, it is very selfish to have such apathy for one’s own life. There are others involved and you need to think about those that will be left behind. However, death does not frighten me, but I do not want to throw in the towel. Now for me one thing is certain, I would like to get it right before my time is up.

Wish I could be like Kyle in verbalizing my gratitude to those who have made a difference in my life, but it would be so inadequate and not convey the true depth of what is in my heart, and, yes, I’d rather not become a blubbering idiot (that happens enough when writing). Many people have blessed my life but in this particular instance I need to be like Kyle and acknowledge one particular individual who has been instrumental in altering the course of events for me. This by no means downgrades the significance of all the others in my life who have loved, influenced, supported, and encouraged me, many who are also here in Long Beach.

He helped not only from the pulpit, but reassured me with loving and caring words. He encouraged me to start blogging, advertised it, and linked my blog site to his blog site and has supported me throughout (the one comment I know I’ll always receive). He invited plus encouraged me to fill in on keyboard and still wanted me to play after the first rehearsal. He asked me to become a regular member of the Praise Band and continued to give me the confidence I needed to play. Even if the band folds, it has been an honor to be considered “one of the guys.” He trusted me to housesit and Chipper sit when he and Janice were away. So, Greg, your kindness, friendship, loving and caring words literally saved my life and helped me to believe in myself, give me confidence, and make me realize that life is truly worth living. Greg called me his friend, but to me he was more like a big brother who was watching out for me.

Doubt I would win the million dollars on the reality series, but in one of the comments Greg mentioned that we were survivors. Yes, I like that and feel as though I’ve persevered but know that there are so many others who have experienced much worse. Made a lot of blunders in my 51 years of living and always wished I could be transported back in time to alter those choices. However, those errors made me grow and become the person I am today, and now realize that I’m not so bad after all. Instead of feeling bad about mistakes, maybe they should be considered a learning tool in living life.

My spiritual strength is still significantly lacking. Thought marrying a devout man to keep me motivated or even becoming a missionary would get me to the level that would be acceptable in God’s eyes. Studying the scriptures and saying prayers are sporadic at best. I do believe in the power of prayer but tend to become skeptical especially when the outcome is not as expected. Very perplexing, the subject of prayer. Take illness. One individual recovers; another does not. There were many prayers for Dad who received a pacemaker and had triple bypass surgery within a two- week time frame. Several verbally acknowledged that prayer works wonders. What if Dad had died? What if he doesn’t make it through the colon surgery? What would you say about prayer then? Nonbelievers can’t wrap themselves around that concept. Christians, at least this one, struggles with it as well, but then I remember that God already knows the outcome and there is a reason for everything that happens even if we don’t understand why.

This past Saturday afternoon there was a two-hour prayer session, particularly for the search of the new pulpit minister. Who can pray for a solid two hours? If medically feasible, we were to fast and replace breakfast and lunch with prayer time. Needless to say I didn’t fast--somewhat unwise for someone with a history of an eating disorder not to eat and doubt anybody else had walked four miles and played tennis that morning; however, I did do some praying while I ate. We sat in groups of five with ideas presented but no particular format to follow. Public prayer is not my forte, but any form of public speaking is extremely uncomfortable. Contributed with what was on my heart and would have nothing more to say so would be sitting the remaining time in silence. The prayers kept flowing and after not too long a time I was surprised to find words gushing from my mouth several times over the next two hours. Toward the end our group had participated in fervent prayer and shared our inadequacies and innermost thoughts.

Always considered myself a romantic. Never could understand how a person could flit from one relationship to another with seemingly no emotion. Love so deeply and then easily hating so strongly, but it is said that there is a fine line between love and hate. Maybe I read too many romance novels or watched too many soap operas but believed every person had a soul mate--that one and only person they were meant to be with forever. Irreplaceable. No other person could compare or come close. So, for those who felt as I did, rest assured. There is life again. The heart actually has room to love again.

Absolutely adore this guy. Oh, he’s no George Clooney or even Tom Selleck, post Magnum, but he captivated me from the start. There was a very strong connection and it being the modern era, I became the pursuer and kept at it until it finally dawned on me the feeling was not mutual and never would be. (Could I possibly be a bigger boob?) So chalk it up to another learning experience. Oh, still hope to find a special person who will care about me as much as I care about him and if this guy has the same traits, talents, and spiritual devotion as two particular gentlemen (two of the neatest guys around), I will be a lucky gal. However, now it is known that I can fall for someone again completely, with no reservations and no guilt, something I never, ever thought was possible after Carl died. Unfortunately, it just isn’t meant to be with this man. Although he’s single at the moment, I need to get him out of my heart; otherwise, I could end up being in love with a married man. Now, wouldn’t that be rich (talk about your soap opera). It’s times such as these that I wish emotions were like a water faucet--can shut them off with just a turn of a knob.

So, here I sit. Have given up my dream of finding that “perfect” job and finally admit there is no such thing. It’s all a matter of attitude. Decided to again focus only on administrative positions; those that pay well and in stable, well-known places, in the government sector and in school districts. Applied to numerous jobs over the last three months and still tend to think it a waste of time. Have been down this road so many times before with no results and the answers (or should I say rejections) thus far are just as discouraging. Nowadays it’s who you know that counts. Don and Natalie have again taken pity on me and have offered their assistance in procuring a position for me in their school district. Unless something else happens my options are now clear and if I can’t get with a school district in Orange County or back in with the company I worked for several months back, will accept Don and Natalie’s help. (What do they say? Third time’s the charm.) Of course, I might have to sign something in blood. But seriously, whatever one it is will have a decent enough salary and will most likely mean relocating. There will be no more jumping ship. That will be it, but I’ve been known to say that a million times when it comes to bailing Jonathan out of his financial binds. But he’s my son and even if Dr. Phil disagrees, I just can’t seem to let him crash and burn. Would like this vocational pursuit behind me and concentrate on my personal and spiritual life and get off my duff and start doing those things intended as well as finishing those things started.

Writing this 17-part anthology was not a cure all and am aware there will be setbacks, but I am not delusional in stating that I have never been in a better place with attitude, determination, and self-worth. Conversions are difficult and half the battle is determining what changes need to be made and the willingness to take action. Changes from deep-seated courses have already begun but the work is not close to being finished and probably never will be.

Started this series over three months ago and possibly took so long to finish because of the fear of running out of ideas to post. But it’s back to normal length blogs; whatever that means. So, thank you for reading. Thank you for sharing. Some described this particular piece of writing as raw, riveting, and eloquent. Maybe I should use those words to land me a job.

To quote the first half of the title of the 1967 bestseller by Thomas A. Harris that I read as a student, “I’m OK.”

THE END