Ever since I was a little kid, I always felt I did not belong. I had problems making friends, and I almost felt as if I was the parent, in my home. Don’t get me wrong, my parents tried, all good parents do, they are just not equipped at times and never received the manual. Now, I was very responsible, did not like to play, I instead preferred to sit around with the adults and engage in conversations, but I was quickly informed to go outside or go play with my “friends”.
Yeah on that note, friends were really acquaintances, and people I engaged with to past time. But I never felt I connected with anyone, ever, and that made me sad. In high school, I had one whopping friend who was just as eccentric as me, so we got along, listening to music and talking about important things in life. Raul graduated before me, he was two years ahead and I was left alone, yet again. My parents got divorced and I quickly found away to escape and joined the Army. Boy (there we go using a male pronoun again), was that a mistake. I was forced to grow up even faster, dealt with more isolation, abuse and loneliness.
Fast forward some more, I now am dealing with weight issues, I hated physical activities and the army pushed me and took me places I did not want to go. Running and engaging in heavy activities where definitely not my cup of tea. Eating disorders developed, I grew fatter and unhappier as the years went by. I did not like who I was, and although many would flatter me and shower me with compliments, my ears did not hear and my heart did not see. The vicious cycle of dieting, throwing up, engaging in drug abuse and hating myself continued. But no one knew, I kept it all in silence, after all I had a great smile and used it to hide my pain.
Glimpses of my youth come to mind, inside the fitting room, trying on clothes I was 8 years old. “Tuck that stomach in, look at that belly, your too fat”, she said. I hated clothes shopping, it was no fun, why can’t we just be naked. To this day dressing rooms are a place of horror for me, and my stomach a point of distress and pain.
“Are you looking at me or at her”? Yes, a typical question that after a while was like finger nails scratching down a chalk board. Being cross eyed did nothing for my self esteem, even after under going 2 operations at the age of one, my eyes worked against each other and my ability to learn was affected greatly. I hated school and I hated life, why am I here…….
To be continued………