Ground zero

I slept with the ex.

We had a sort of argument yesterday afternoon while at work. Him saying blah blah blah, me saying blah blah blah. 

He called at 5 saying he’s coming over to talk. He didn’t ask. I should have said no. Or i should have said let’s meet somewhere else. At the time I didn’t think things through.

I went home and decided that when he comes we’d go out together and get supper and then he can go home from there. But he got to my place an hour later than I had anticipated.

I feel like I’m coming up with excuses for sleeping with him… But it really wasn’t my intention.  Plus I wanted to get my sti test and you can’t have sex for a certain period before that.

It was raining. When he came over he was.soaked. I felt bad and told him to go shower and warm up and I’ll get food. I get home, I’m putting groceries in the fridge and he comes into the kitchen with just a towel. I ignore it and just keep packing stuff. 

He takes the groceries out of my hands and motions me to the bedroom.  I should have stopped but the familiarity of his touch made me weak.

The sex was average. But it was still better than everyone else. He stayed the night. His chest immediately comfortable. 

To be honest, it felt like a tension reliever. After we slept together I just stopped stressing.  I stopped obsessing about him. I immediately felt this focus onto me.

I was still same caring me to him. We didn’t talk about a future or what this means.

The stuff that he had come over to stay didnt move me or mean anything to me. It was some bs about his colleagues and team leaders giving him advice and how they weren’t convinced that he was over me. And some other bs about how therapy won’t help.

He did say something that I realised is actually quite a massive problem in my life. My family.  I love them to bits but I have never felt accepted by them as I am. I always had to be better or someone else. And a lot of my identity and low self esteem issues come from that.

He said that whenever I came from home I’d put those emotions on me. I usually was depressed after a trip home. And I love every one of my family. And I understand every one of them. And I forgive them.of all the hurt. But it never stops hurting. 

In all honesty, I was as uncommitted in the relationship as he was. Maybe he actually tried in the beginning but in my head he was a pastime until I met a guy my parents would approve of. I’m sure he felt that.  After seeing my parents I’d immediately push him away because he didn’t fit into that life. He fitted into my brokenness. Into my pain.  He was my light but I got lost in his dark. 

The thing is, I’ve never felt like I’d fit in with the type of person my parents would approve of. I don’t feel it’s me. I’ve become so detached from me. Most days I don’t know who i am.

So I’m confused. I probably wasn’t that good to him. I did things cos I felt I had to rather than out of love. I stayed because he made life less painful. And maybe he felt that he was an option to me too. It’s not something you can hide.

Initially I beat myself up for sleeping with him. In my head I imagined him coming with flowers and chocolates and a confession of true love. Hollywood style. I knew he’d be empty handed. What did I expect?

I thought maybe he wanted to tell me that he realised what he had lost.  But that wasn’t it either. He told me that him coming to me was him making an effort. At one point I believed it in the relationship.  I respected his hardships and what it meant. Now I don’t care. There was a moment where I wanted to hear something worth hearing… Just to know that it wasn’t just for sex. That it was for me… But I didn’t really. I also.found myself talking about other guys a lot. Not to make him jealous. Just things. Like how this guy at work mocked me about my boss liking me because I have a killer ass. 

He also asked about a ring I was wearing. My sister had bought it for me the weekend he was arrested. For some reason I feel like it protects me. He assumed Darcy had bought it for me and made a comment about men buying me jewellery. I let him go with it. He knew me well enough to know that I would never have bought it for myself.  Ever.

For a moment last night, at my lowest when I realised he probably came over for sex and got it and it was purely something easy and convenient for him because I’m easy and convenient and he knows exactly how to seduce me… At that point, I felt myself shrink into self hatred. 

But this morning I realised,  shit happens. I had a good night. And now I can refocus. Like an addiction. You try to give up. The withdrawal symptoms kick in and make you feel super weak. And then you have a fix and you think damn…. That’s destructive. And then you start over.

Don’t pursue.

Focus on myself.

I just joined the park run thing with a colleague.  So every weekend we walk 5 km on a sat morning. 

But ya… I got a lot to work out. With myself. My own issues. 

And then it all collapsed

Tw: sex 

My excitement and happiness continued into my day today. 

Until a friend of his contacted me asking me where I had disappeared to.

I should have blocked her immediately but I decided to respond.  We chatted. She finally opened up about things. How my ex went looking for cocaine while I was away.  How at a party he asked her to hook him up with a girl and when she didn’t he stormed off. He contacted me drunk, hours later,to pick him up and fukt me. I was the idiot shag who was always there. 

She Also told me how he was hitting on her and hit on everything that moved.  I kept finding condoms at his place and he told me it was to Polish his shoes and I believed him. He once left my place angry with a condom that he had brought for me.

For some stupid idiotic reason I chose to trust him. He made me believe that it was my fears and insecurities that created a lack of trust in the relationship and I made a conscious choice not to doubt him.

Now, awoken… I’m terrified. What if I have an sti? Or worse hiv?

I also found out he was doing cocaine more regularly that i thought. That means risky sex and I know for certain he didn’t always wear a condom. I also know for certain that he liked going down on women. 

I’m freaking out. There’s a one month period for hiv screening to avoid a false negative and then you need to double check in four months.

I want to hit myself. I want to smack my head against a wall. How could I have been such an idiot? Twice. Three times. Wtf is wrong with me. Why didn’t I freaking use a condom with him every single time?

I don’t know how to calm myself down. I don’t know how to handle this. I know there’s no point stressing unless I know for certain. But I’m falling apart now.

How did I get myself into this situation? Twice. With the same person

A little bit of sadness

I hit a low yesterday.  Out of nowhere.  I just became sad and lonely.  I was fine all week being alone.  I actually enjoyed it. And then bamn I’m upset with my boyfriend for not chatting to me. And my upset means I’m holding back affection. I’m not responding to his I love yous because I’m not feeling love.

I read this article about teaching your kids about consent (http://www.upworthy.com/5-everyday-ways-to-teach-your-kids-about-consent?c=ufb2) and as I read it I got really sad and started crying.

I was a sickly child. So I’ve been told. And recently I remembered a moment that really affected me.  The article talks about teaching a kid that their body is there’s and respecting their decisions. I’m sure I was just grabbed and jabbed as a kid.

But I remember when i was 13, I had sprouted boobs a year earlier and my neurologist had noticed a sound in my neck and said I should get an ultrasound of my heart. 

My dad took me. And I remember being braless and cold in front of three men.  And one man lifted my breast and dropped it like Nicolas cage in birdie. I hated that moment.  I felt a million emotions like embarrassed and ashamed and I told myself just let them because it’s a medical exam. Don’t be stupid and make it something it’s not.

This resulted in me, four years later, going to a tailor to get an outfit sewn. I was 17, I kissed one boy in my life and that was as far as my man experience had gone. No one had touched.

And there i was, behind a curtain, with my mum on the other side. This guy saying he’d put my outfit right. I remember this moment as if I was watching it through a glass. He touched me. Rubbed his hands on my boobs and vagina and got excited. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask him to stop.  I didn’t know it was wrong. All I knew was that I was uncomfortable but that didn’t mean much to me so I let it continue. 

After that it was a stream of men I didn’t know and me just letting them touch me as they wanted to, where they wanted to. I didn’t have sex or go anything sexual til I was 24 but men had seen me naked.

Ironic considering I was too self conscious to swim cos I didn’t want people to see me. 
Even last year when a friend who asked me to come over and drink during a space my bf and I were fighting and then pinned me down when I was drunk and pulled off my pants as I said no, I apologised to him.  Because I felt I misled him. Even though when I left his place I felt the emotions one feels when raped. 

I’m 29 and as the youngest I still don’t have much of a voice with my family. 

My fat is my protection from the world. From pain. From everything I want to be.

I was thinking I need to see a psychologist to deal with all this so that I can lose weight.  so that I can forgive myself.  So that I can establish a love with my body.  So that I can have a voice. But they’re too expensive and medical aid doesn’t pay.

Sigh.

Numb

Tw: may be explicit

I feel numb. I went to a friends party last night. It was fun.  I had fun. Went home feeling alive and great. And after hearing my bfs voice while lying in bed, I sank. The reality of my day came back.

I told my bf, that when I’m down, all I want to know is that I’m atleast safe with him. Hes not good at being there when I’m emotional.  He becomes rigged. Sometimes he gets angry. He’s even called me manipulative for crying. I understand it. He’s been through a lot. But it doesn’t comfort me. It doesn’t hold me. Wipe my tears away. Tell me everything will be.okay. I’ve tried.  I’ve sent him things to read up on. I’ve told him what I need when I’m sad. He tries things sometimes and I appreciate it and it makes me super happy but then I think he just gives up. He believes he can’t make me happy and leaves it at that.

When I’m numb, I just want to be wanted. I crave touch. Ever since I was young. I close my eyes and just feel someone brushing their lips on my neck. Really slowly. Wanting me.

This craving has led me to many bad decisions.  Many deplorable men who felt me up and kissed me but who never satiated my needs. Because they didn’t care about me. They just grabbed my tits and pulled down my pants. I didn’t have sex with them, but their hands are still imprinted on my skin, leaving me feeling more unwanted, more unworthy. Tainted.

I used to blame that feeling on being fat. Being fat made me not good enough. It made me unwanted. 

Somehow that craving to be touched became associated with love. I felt unlovable.

All of this baggage led me to yesterday’s bad decision and today’s waywardness.

I’m really not proud of this. There’s a guy who’s been flirting with me for a year. He flirts with everyone.  He has sex with any woman who’d have sex with him. Hes amazingly smooth.

Yesterday I went to him after hearing about my boyfriend and the side chick. I was so broken by her words that I felt numb. I wanted to be touched. To be held. And I didn’t know when I’d see my boyfriend again.

In retrospect I realise she could be making up everything and I have no real proof that he cheated.

But yesterday the news knocked me down. It’s been six months of this woman constantly uprooting my relationship. 

The friend who knew about her before saw my vulnerability as a way in.

He comforted me. Let me cry on his shoulder. Lied that we were friends.

We didn’t make out. We didn’t have sex. I hated his touch but I let him touch me. I let him shove his hand in my bra. I didn’t feel a thing. Just numb.

Then I started sobbing. Ugly sobbing. Broken sobbing.

Awkward. Because I knew that he didn’t care at all about me. He just wanted to fuck someone. Anyone. But he sat there and awkwardly patted my head.

After it happened,  I continued to feel nothing. I continued to feel numb. And then I imagined every guy other than my boyfriend brushing their lips on my neck… Craving their touch. I wanted to be grabbed and shaken alive until I felt again.

All I felt was unwanted, unworthy, ugly and numb. All I saw was my boyfriend with this young skinny woman with big boobs. It’s like that image was stuck on my eyelids and every time i closed my eyes, there they were, together.

I’ve never cheated on a boyfriend before. I’ve never cheated on a guy that I liked and who didn’t like me. In my last relationship, my emotional cheating (me thinking about another man) made me end the relationship.

It’s almost as if the whole time I was watching myself from outside myself. Completely disconnected. Completely emotionless. Dead.

I’m not going tell my boyfriend.  Im gonna go home tonight and not see him. But maybe I need to see him. After all depression causes u to isolate yourself.  Maybe this is all just a lie and seeing him will make me feel better….

Why I hate being fat – written a year ago

2015-06-04 14:44:28 why I hate being fat

Ive been feeling strange since my last trip home. Theres something about going home that always makes me question who i am. Spins me into doubt and levels of self hate i can barely see passed. I question my authenticity, my truth, my reality… Such questions exist only in concentric circles.

One of my most major issues in my life is my weight. It also one of the things ive never really discussed with anyone. There’s always some censorship. My weight. Or my true emotions. My shame. My embarrassment. 

Being a kid on the chubby side can result in deep emotional trauma. I think thats where i am. I can remember every nurse who told me to lose weight, every classmate who mocked my extra flab and every jab i experienced at home. After a while evey hurt becomes a mark for self hatred.Even now I’m often confronted with photos of my younger self and i am shocked when i see a thin, beautiful girl in front of me. More beautiful than people i had idolised. And i remember those moments when the photo was taken – id always feel ugly and fat and uncomfortable in my skin. Any smile in the moment was fake.

And now, when i truly am fat and uncomfortable, all thats left is self hate. I’ve become the person i was afraid of being and never once have I completely let my guard down, never did i stop pretending I was okay, never did i truly accept that this is me.But now i can. Here. Where no one knows who i really am.

I hate being fat because:

1. The money I’ve wasted on trying to lose weight. From weight watchers, to weighless, to pill and teas, to exercise regimes, to electronic pulse things to dvds to magazines…. Anything that you can think off i have tried. Every time i tried something it was a confirmation- you have every right to hate yourself, you will only be worthy once you change your current self, you cannot be loved as you are.  And the worst part is that there’s always someone out there trying to make money off your pain. Whether you are sick or fat or depressed, somebody is waiting to manipulate your desperate lost self and make money of you. Whether its by pretending to love you or help you or be your guide. Its bs.

2. The harsh judgement of myself. When i was a kid i never liked going out. My family saw this as me being a grumpy teen. Friends saw it as me being an introvert. Id cancel plans at the last moment and i have a fear of bumping into people from my past. The truth is that i hated my body so much i didnt want people to see me. I used to wear this old baggy jacket for months. When it was too old i got a new baggy hoodie. I dont feel comfortable unless i have something i can hide in.

Even today i have these waves of such low self esteem that I don’t wanna leave my room to go to work. I tell myself things like you are working on transforming and people already know what you look like. It stopped me from being able to do things i loved. I never went to the beach, or clubbing. I said no to most social invites and now i feel like i have no friends.

3. Comparing myself. I’ve done this most of my life. On entering a room in school or campus or work, I’d always scan the room to see if there were people bigger then me. If there weren’t, I automatically felt ugly and uncomfortable and longed for approval. If there was, i felt a little better but somewhat expected approval. In my grade 11 english class i remember who awkward i felt during class speeches. I had deemed myself to be the fattest person in class and every time i stood up there i felt that all people noticed about me was how fat i was.

4. Everything in my life became a result of my appearance. My success was held back cos i was fat. I remember telling my dad as a kid no older than 5 that I wanted to be an actress, my dad said I wasn’t pretty enough.

I became more and more self conscious believing no one liked me, constantly holding myself back cos of how i may look. If i am forever fat i will be forever unsuccessful… in love, in writing, in achieving whatever i want to. Thats how I’ve felt. The constant holding myself back. Not speaking my mind, not standing up for myself, not wearing what i want to or acting in a way that felt real…. Its all been happening for so long that I don’t even know who i am anymore. 

5. Dressing up and dressing down. This ties in with number 2. Ive never had a job where I’ve been forced to dress up. My normal attire is jeans, a long top and a baggy hoodie. When i do wear something a little fitting i find myself hiding more and chatting less. Or i wear things like a belt to disguise my tummy, little jersey to hide my arms, jeans under dresses to hide my knees…

6. Physical education. As a fat chick with asthma, the trauma of physical education is no joke. Being picked last or not at all teaches you that people have a right to reject you based on your physical capabilities. I loved pe and swimming, but because of my extreme lack of self esteem i spent most of my pe lessons on the proverbial bench having forged letters to excuse myself. In high school i became the class forgerer of sick notes.

Even now im ashamed of how i look exercising. It should propell me- the energy, the idea of transformation but mostly i feel shame. I can gym. I can manage a full hour of hiit. But i never want anyone i know to see me cos all i see are my rolls and my wobbles and my incomplete movements. Not even my boyfriend.

7. Guys. Being the chubby kids teaches you the ‘he’s not in your league’ bs. Im too ugly for the great guy. Im the butt of his jokes not the queen of his heart.

Such beliefs have led me on a rollercoaster of below par guys who treated me like shit and who took more than they gave but whos little affection made me feel like i was not alone, somebody loved me. Naturally i was used more than i was loved. Knowing this however doesn’t make me feel any more worthy of a great guy.

Videos like guys responses to a fat chick confirm this. Its also not only me who believes that my appearance makes me less worthy of a great guy. Whenever people have tried to set me up with guys, they have always been the rejects of society and they still judged me.

There was never a man who fell in love with my quirkiness, my astute sense of humour or my love for adventure. It only happens in movies. Kiss My Act is me hiding, only I don’t have the guts to go back on stage and there isn’t a guy waiting to fall in love with someone like me.

I used to believe I was the Jewish woman from Mad Men and all the shitty guys were Don Drapers, looking at me with caring eyes saying “don’t tell me no one’s ever loved you”… And like Don draper, they all left.

8. Sex. Thanks to my below my league choices in men, ive never really felt self conscious about my body. Being touched became a source of approval. This led me down some messed up roads. Id crave it, id need it… I allowed myself to be used and cheated on and abused.

Naturally i always felt worse after. Apart from that, i also cant do things that id want to which makes me less experimental in bed. Less happy in relationships. Because of my feelings of self hatred i always feel like im settling for whatever will take me.

9. Always having to pull my clothes right. Over my bum. Up on my shoulders. Out of my tummy tyres when i sit. And I’m always certain people see me do it.

10. Skinny people talking about being fat. Because ive spent my whole life pretending i was ok with my body, when people say the word fat i freeze up. I cant say it. I cant comment on it. I feel like everyones waiting to point a finger at me. I get very weird. Like I’m too fat to comment on anything with the word fat.

11. For whatever reason ppl are always telling me i need to lose weight, giving me ideas on how and why it’s important that i should lose weight. Seriously, after years of being fat, dont you think id know this stuff, id have tried it. There’s no miracles to weightloss. Tips on losing weight are fairly standard.  And yes putting on weight doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to lose weight.

12. Shorts, jeans and stockings. Cos my thighs rub together which makes jeans tear, shorts ride up awkwardly and stocking not go up to the top making them highly uncomfortable.

13. The focus is on me being fat. When people see me they see fat. Not how great awesome and fun i may be. Not the sparkle in my eyes. Not the talent or intelligence or drive.  I lost 10kg last yr (i put it all back on) and at the time i was hardly eating and gyming regularly but the director would constantly pick on my weight and how i shouldnt go to the store for him cos i might not come back w his food.

In primary school i was an amazing dancer. I could choreograph my own stuff. For a concert i taught two girls who knew nothing about dancing how to dance. It was a major success. But at the end this chick came and told me that i ruined the dance cos i was fat and looked clumsy.

People are always mocking me. My best friend used to say my blubber was falling all over the place when i was young. I yoyoed even before my teens. I remember when i was maybe 7 telling my dad that i wanna be an actress and he told me that i wasnt pretty. Not talented enough, not clever enough but pretty enough.

14. Being unable to eat alone in public. Sure i do it more often now but i still feel ashamed buying take out. Judged. Even buying groceries or eating at a restaurant.  A type of ‘im fat and should not be eating’ ashamed.

15. The yoyo-ing. I don’t even know how to explain this one but its like my fat has become my safety net, my protection. I dont know how to break the cycle, to destroy my mental and physical need to be fat.

16. The continual mental conflict. Who am i? Do they like me? Do they see past my fat? It tiring being fat especially from a young age.