I started to write about this last week, but I really couldn't get my thoughts clear on the subject, so wrote about something else instead.
I got a letter from my mother back on the 7th after she and I had exchanged some words the week before. As you may recall, my mother accused me of trying to manipulate her and steal her money after my Dad passed away and I tried to help her Execute his Will. Her family had her hire a lawyer and it got very messy. Words were said. Feelings were hurt. I finally walked away from all of it and have had little contact with my mother except for an occasional call where we always end up arguing.
I realize that my mother is not altogether there. Her family swears it's not Alzheimer's or dementia, but it's more than apparent that "not all of the crayons are in the box." She now says that she doesn't remember saying any of the things she said to me and doesn't understand what is "wrong" with me.
Where I am going with all of this is that she sends me a letter and basically states that she doesn't think that I'm a very happy person. My first thought was "duh!"....I mean, my mother basically told everyone I was a horrible person and turned my relatives against me...but I'm suppose to be happy???
As the days passed, however, and I pondered her letter...I had to ask myself if I am happy. Obviously, the immediate answer is NO...but...have I ever been happy? You know, I'm not really sure. I mean I've had happy moments, but a happy life? Not so much.
Growing up was a rough time for me because my Dad was drinking and my mother was (and still is) negative all the time. I've read books about living in this kind of family situation and it's often referred to as "walking on eggshells." I would say that is when I started turning to food for comfort, but I'm really not one of those kind of eaters. I just ate what I wanted and certain foods brought me happiness...or my version of it.
I gained some weight during my time at home, but I was young and active in high school and the weight came right back off. I was actually thin when I met The Hubby and then it all changed. The Hubby didn't want to get married. He wasn't ready for commitment. I had no self-worth. I waited. I waited some more. I also literally weighted. I gained five pounds and then 10 pounds and then 20...The number kept climbing right on up there and when he finally decided he would marry me...I was right at 165.
I think some people go into marriage with the expectation that their spouse will change once the wedding rings are on their fingers, but the truth is....what you start out with...is what you get. The Hubby always had and still continues to put his mother first. He was passive aggressive before and he is passive aggressive now. My weight continued to climb. 170, 180, 190...eventually over the 200 mark and beyond.
I look back and I still wasn't eating for comfort and I say that because I don't really turn to food when things go wrong...I basically was just eating a lot when I did eat to stuff all those unhappy emotions down. I was, and still continue to show my unhappiness on the outside and I guess it is my form of control in an uncontrollable world.I say this because the people around me do what they want and I have somehow convinced myself that I am suppose to take it. My mother doing what she did. My relatives doing what they did. The Hubby and all the crap he has done and continues to do...
Anyway, where I am going with all of this is that ever since I got that letter from my mother...I have been thinking...I want a happy life. I want my outside to reflect my emotions on the inside and I think that starts with taking care of myself first, I know this ending is an incomplete thought here, but basically what I am thinking is that I need to practice self-love.
More thoughts on this as I discover how to do that....
Until next time...