It’s about to get heavy in here so…TRIGGER WARNING FOR EVERYTHING!!!!
Okay, how i should start this..oh yeah, like that!
Let’s go to the past, shall we?
Once upon a time, (15 years ago) i was a child who wasn’t fat, i was very very thin that i was told by my grandmas to eat more.
When i became ten years old my maternal grandma started to make comments that i’m getting fat and that i should eat less.
At the age of 12 my parents started making the same comments as my maternal grandma.
My paternal grandma wasn’t saying anything harmful she always allowed me to eat as much as i wanted and said nothing and whenever she would see me cry she would ask me what is wrong. She never ever until she died said anything bad about me unlike the rest of my family including my sister to those people. She was always so kind and supportive even thought close to the end she had started to forget things but i didn’t care. I always got angry at my dad’s and my mum’s behavior towards her whenever she would buy too much food, start cooking way too early in the morning or forget things or fall asleep in the bathroom. I remember how happy she was when dad bought her an MP3 player and she started listening to her songs, she would sing along and she would dance whiling sitting down, her smile during those times was like i could see my grandma’s much younger self-shining through, the self i saw in the portrait of her wedding day. But she died and i couldn’t say goodbye to her.
Now come to think of it i never had a chance to say goodbye to no one…not my grandpas, not my grandmas, not my grand-uncles and grand-aunts…no one…
Anyway, back to the point.
At the age of 13 i fell in love with mayonnaise and sandwiches…dad and mum kept yelling at me; “Don’t eat that! You’ll get fat!”.
At the age of 14 i had gained weight.
At 16 i gained more weight.
At 17 i gained more weight…the same year i was diagnosed with Hashimoto Thyroid and i was told i would get pills to balance it…my doctor told me that was the reason why i gain weight.
Then i told her about my depression and my eating habit of mayonnaise and she smiled, she asked me if i had friends during the examination and i told her no…i don’t trust people i told her…i used to have three best friends, Angela, Nicky and Polly but they are gone now. I never really shared my true self with them…i was too mature for them..well in all honesty i believe i liked to suffer in the dark where no one would judge me or lie to me so i pushed them away or focused too much on them that they felt as if i was suffocating them…mothering them.
I could see in her eyes how sad she was by listening to my words but didn’t say anything.
I guess people who care too much end up numbing themselves because the world gets too offensive when people show that they care a great deal about someone or something.
At 18 i got diagnosed with Osteoarthritis Chondropathy…or too be more precise… i have been suffering from osteoarthritis Chondropathy ever since i was 5 and started getting too much height…I remember when i was kid i would complain about knee pains and joints pain constantly but my parents were like “Oh! You are getting taller! Don’t worry, drink some milk, honey!” or they would yell “Oh! Stop complaining! Everyone hurts some place but we are not complaining! Now shut up!”.
I always used to think that feeling my own knees being dislocated and put back into their place while walking or running was normal or that waking up in terrible pain at night to the point i would have to bite my lips until they bled so i won’t cry out and wake everyone up was normal or that whenever i would try to change position in my sleep my knees would get dislocated and i would have to put them back in the morning or i would wake up not feeling my legs from the knees down so i would have to hit them…punch them in order to bring the feeling of them being part of my skeleton back was normal. That falling while there was nothing that should have caused me to fall was normal or walking and then suddenly i have no control of my legs and not feeling them AT ALL was normal!
Then at 7 mum got diagnosed with an autoimmune disease…i thing was Lupus stage 2…but i might be wrong i was too young to understand them and mum doesn’t like to talk about it…and i stopped paying attention to my pains and tried to be a good daughter…
At 7,5 years old i overheard my mum’s physician tell my dad and his mum that they should get me checked for the same illness as my mum when i become 18 years old.
My dad had laughed at that and said there was no need…i was just too tall for my age.
I never saw that physician again but at 18 i was diagnosed with something similar drawn from my mum’s and dad’s genetics…great!
When the doctor asked me why i was in his office and i told him about the incident of i had three night ago when i woke up at 2 am and i couldn’t feel anything from the waist down i had to drag myself out of bed to the kitchen while i’m on the floor to tell to my parents what is going on…i told him that in the morning of that day i was walking down some stairs and i lost the feeling of my legs and i fell on top of an elderly man who volunteered to drive me to the hospital but i refused i asked him to get me to sit down and leave me to regain sense of my legs. I told him about the constant knee pains, the waking up in the middle of the night crying from the pain, the dislocation and putting my knees back while walking or sleeping.
The doctor looked beyond shocked and mortified and then asked my dad “Where were you and your wife, sir when all these was taking place?” and my dad laughed anxious “She is a dramatic kid we thought she was magnifying the pains to gain attention.”
I had looked at my dad with such shock while inside of me i was boiling with rage!
Then the doctor asked me if i could tell him from scale 1 to 10 the pain i felt every night. I told him that i couldn’t count it because for me was now was part of my life i was so used to it that i had stopped feeling the pain at the age of 15 but i remember the pain when i first felt it or when i first dislocated my knees while walking. He told me to tell him…i looked at him straight in the eyes and said 25…the pain was 25 from scale 1 to 10…a pain i would never wish on anyone no matter what they have done in life.
My dad all throughout this was looking at the window behind the doctor or at my knees i could read his…aura if i might say…because his face was unreadable…he was thinking i was lying and that i was dramatic.
I felt such defeat in that moment. I felt dirty and that i should cut my legs off. I felt guilt that now my dad has to think about the money and pay for my medicine or surgery or whatever the doctor would say.
Then when we walked out of the doctor’s office my dad turn to me and said; “Told you that you shouldn’t eat that much, look what your weight do to you. It’s all your fault if you hadn’t had such weight you would be a pretty lady. Not a fat one.”
Geez! Dad! Thanks for the support!
I spend three months learning how to walk again on my own with no one to help me…dad went on a walk with me the first day but after that he was too busy, my aunt came some time but she was walking too fast for me and whenever i would ask her to slow down she would tell me that i was being too easy on myself and by doing that i wouldn’t get better.
The second visit to the doctor he told me i would have to lose weight i would be seated in a wheel-chair at 25 and at 30 i would have to have a knee reconstructive surgery…
My own knees were becoming more and more dust every time i walked! He told me i should stop dancing, jumping, running, climbing stairs, sitting Indian style, walking, riding my bike, playing any sport what so ever and if i wanted to swim i should be careful and not too deep into the sea.
So pretty much i shouldn’t do anything of what i liked or would help me to lose weight!
My parents kept saying that i’m getting fat.
At least three times a day.
Whenever i would complain about my knees pain they would say it’s because i’m fat.
They would tell me to go out and walk around the block and whenever i would tell them that the doctor forbid it they would look at me with “i know better” look or with a “Don’t use him as an excuse to be lazy” look.
Then mum would yell at me for not being supportive and understanding of her illness and disability to walk or do any chores in the house!
That is still going on! Although i’m feeling much better, two years later, mind you my parents and aunt still say i’m fat.
Which gets me to my next subject i wanted to add in this post;
I was around 17 when i was sitting with my mum in the kitchen while some friend of hers was in our house, i was sitting with them only because mum used to ask me to bring her things because she couldn’t walk…not that i cared about the guest…i was writing a chapter on my laptop when the guest ask me if i’m texting on Facebook to my boyfriend and that is why i’m typing so furiously…no i wasn’t…i was typing a fight scene and then a death scene…i looked at her without stopping typing and laughed saying that i had no boyfriend.
Then mum said; “Of course she wouldn’t…i don’t expect that from her…besides she doesn’t have a style to attract the male’s attention, she has no style or the body. She’s fat.”
My mum’s friend smiled at me and went back to smoking but asked me what i was typing. I explained to her shortly that i was writing a story about this girl who fights in parallel worlds in order to keep the balance of the multiverse which was a theory my heroines’ great great grandpa came up with in 1920s and her grandpa proved right in 1950s by shoving his son, my heroines’ dad, through a portal along with himself making them get stranded in a parallel world where her dad was raised and she was born into.
Then she asked me if i wrote that story in Greek and i told her that it was in English. She looked impressed at me and then asked me what i wanted to be when i grew up…i told her i wanted to either direct a movie or write a book but if i didn’t manage that i would love to teach at a University about History or Psychology or Anthropology. Or i would like to write a book where i could tell what was historically going on globally during each year from the moment the humans started civilisations up to whatever technological advances would happen while i’m an adult.
She looked even more impressed and then looked at my mum and praised me but mum just mumbled a “yep” without caring. My mum’s friend asked me if i plan to marry and i said that if i found the right person otherwise i would gladly be a single mum…and even adopt kids or use a sperm donor…needless to say my mum and her friend choked on their cigarettes with my answer but i didn’t care.
Then mum’s friend asked me what i meant by “person” and i smiled and said it could either be a man or a woman i have no problem love is love. I could see my mum’s eyes glaring at me while her friend laughed and said that she wished me all i ever want in life to come true and that i should sent her a wedding invite no matter the gender of my spouse to be. And that being smart is more attractive than being a plastic Barbie she had learnt that from her two marriages, the second one being almost loveless after twenty years and a child.
That day i had low-key came out to my mum but i didn’t see it as a big deal.
After that mum didn’t ask me about boys or girls never! Up until my sister started teasing me for being a 18-year-old virgin in all bases and having no crushes.
She told me that i should start paying more attention to people around me and not my phone or the book i was at the time reading that maybe if i raised my head up from those things i might catch a boy’s attention.
I felt angry and i said i didn’t care about love.
Then again she never asked about my love life until about a month ago…it was after lunch when i was about to start gathering the dishes when my sister asked me why i haven’t fallen in love yet…she is constantly in love with several boys…i swear she is the complete opposite of me in that and many other areas!
I told her that i don’t believe in love. But in all honesty i don’t believe i deserve love. That someone could love me accepting all my flaws and my fat body….that someone would say to his friends or her friends how much in love they are with me even though i’m fat.
My sister then pressed on not believe that i have never fallen in love or that a boy never confessed his undying love…well there was one in 5th grade but who counts him…it lasted 3 days and then he started bullying me for breaking up with him…i felt uncomfortable…trapped you might say knowing that i had a boyfriend.
So i got defensive i told her to look at her life and not mine that i’m no example and that she should be more focused on resting and gathering her strength for the upcoming school year.
Mum then said that i shouldn’t be mean to my sister and that i should stop being cold…well she told me to stop being icy bitch…I wish i was Killer Frost maybe then i could have use my sarcasm to give both of them a piece of my mind but sadly i’m not!
Then continued saying how i don’t dress properly and that if i started finding clothes that fit my figure i might find admirers or that if i took a better care of myself that then people might start noticing me.
WOW! Thanks mum for telling me how unnoticeable i am! I really needed that! Thanks!
All this time my sister had a smug look on her face while my mum had a “i’m older and wiser than you so listen” look.
I felt attacked. I felt as if i was backed to a corner and repeatedly punched.
Then came the six little words, mum said;
“Then maybe you could finally be beautiful.”
She then started to say that i had a great chest and i should flaunt it more by stop wearing shirts that are in a form of t-shirt. That i should start exercising in order to lose weight. That i should wear makeup and that i should make sure my hair are either red or dark brown not both colors at the same time because i look like a Gypsy…
She said that i should clean my face from black spots and make sure my nails both in my hands and feet are perfect…that i should shave “down there” just in case…
While telling me all these things i could only hear my own mother telling me that i’m not beautiful and that i’m not enough for a man or a woman to love me as i am with my extra pounds and the black spots on my face, with my Gypsy hair and my hairy legs..and arms…not armpits…arms!
That moment i wanted to crawl in dark hole and cry maybe die but as i was able to excuse myself i went into my room and i had this raging will to prove my parents wrong…to show them that brains matter more that beauty, that i would be happier if i ever find someone i could have intellectual conversation with! Someone who can fangirl/fanboy with me over TV shows, books, fanfictions, movies and dream about space travel. Someone i can debate about time travel and other theories with! With someone who when i want to cry would hold me and say that everything will be alright. With someone who would defend me in front of my parents’ attacks.
But i knew that was impossible so i had another raging will…i wanted to come up with a a theory and prove it right or invent something that would make the world better and then force them sit through my presentation and the praises from other professors and inventors! I wanted to show them that i am a badass!
But that will faded a second later when i looked myself on the mirror…who would want that…who would want me?
That night i tried to exhaust myself walking around the house in order to chase the thought of suicide out of my head. In my mind there was this war that half of my mind told me to end it all while the other one told me to hold on and that things are getting better and there was another part of me that said that i should hold on but for now let’s hurt myself a little bit…
So i went to the bathroom and…and i scratch myself…i turned my pimples on my arm and body into bleeding holes and i scratched my sunburn to the point it bled and i couldn’t stop it. The next day i woke up and my shirt was full of bloody spots…and so where my bed sheets. No one cared.
I’ve been doing this my whole life minus the walking around the house during the night…that is new…like a year old habit…new.
Let’s go to today…
A few hours ago as i’m writing this my mum asked me to make a salad and put her and dad a plate of lunch and as i was cutting the salad dad showed up and asked me if i joined them. When i told him i wasn’t hungry he told me that was good and that i shouldn’t eat maybe that way i will lose weight.
But listening to that made me angry so just from anger i joined them for lunch!
Then four hours ago i was walking around the house while listening to music trying to come up with a plot for a requested fanfiction when i noticed that i revert back to walking/limping like i used to do and that i grew more tired when i walked barefoot that with my sleepers on. When i foolishly went to tell my dad of my findings my dad told me that it was because i gained weight. And that he had photos of me to prove it.
He always does it! The same fucking thing!
I know that a reason i suffered the knee pains on my own for so long was because i feared the fat comments from my parents!
And as i was thinking about that theory i came up across another realization…i started not being able to sleep at night because of the anxiety of the next day…of me being again a target of fat comments from my parents. It’s manageable when i’m in my college town where i can skip calling them so i won’t have to hear them telling me to be careful of what i eat and that i should start weighting myself every day and keeping a score.
I understand the need of me to lose weight for my knees but with no support system is really hard! Plus stress cause us to gain weight too either my eating more or some chemical imbalance but my parents don’t seem to care that their comments are making me anxious!
But there are times where their comments make me want to kill myself just so i can get away from them. If only there was a way to fake your death and wake up in a parallel world where you have supportive parents, friends and everything else you desire.
The sentence above is always the last thing i think about every night before sleep take over and the first thing i think about when i’m waking up.
Sleep!
Oh! My dad and mum’s least favorite thing! They won’t stop complaining about how much i’m sleeping! Of course they are unaware of why i’m managing to fall asleep at least at 4 am…they think it’s the computer or my phone…nope! It’s them! At night when everyone is asleep is the only time i have for myself…the only time of the day where i can cry without fear of being seen and then mocked by them. The only time when i can let my imagination work without interruption and honestly i have come up with many great stories and blog posts.
At time during the nights it’s the only time i can fight with myself…during the day i have this constant negative committee in my head that every time my parents say that i’m not enough or that i’m not doing anything right agrees with them and points out my mistakes and they point out the perfect way things should be and how they are not.
But at night i fight that committee that every day and every second it whispers;
“You are not enough even your parents see that what makes you think that someone will see past this?”
“No one cares for you.”
“You have no friends.”
“Ice bitch”
“Show a little emotion it won’t kill ya…oh wait it will!”
“You have no home and you’ll never have one!”
“You belong nowhere!”
“You are not beautiful even your mother says that and you came out of her vagina…god! imagine how that must feel for her…having an ugly daughter like you who can’t speak correctly Greek and always feels comfortable speaking English betraying her heritage!”
“You are disgusting!”
“I wonder if you kill yourself who is going to miss you? No one! But maybe we should try it and see, what do you say?”
Every night i will walk around telling myself the same mantra;
“I’m enough! I have a future. i am making an impact on this world by just existing maybe my kids will do great things! I should hold on for my future kids! i am enough! There is someone out there waiting to meet someone like me! You can do this! You only lost twice to that fight and you are 19! You can do it!”
And it’s true…two times i lost the fight…one was at 15 when i was about to jump from the 3rd floor and the second just 24 hours before my 19th birthday when i was seriously thinking about committing suicide and that indeed no one would care. I even bet that my parents would learn of my suicide because the neighbors will complain about my dead body’s smell…or because my aunt and her boyfriend decide to spent the weekend in the apartment i’m living in (technically it’s my aunt’s apartment and i live there during the week days because it’s in my college town and on the weekends she shows up with her boyfriend and i go to my hometown…to my parents.)
That is the reason why i don’t get to sleep well and i end up waking up at noon….it’s exhausting fighting your own mind every night and day but my parents don’t care…i haven’t told them actually because i saw how they reacted when i told them…sorry whenever i would tell them about a weakness of mine…they would use it against me when a fail….
Alright! Sorry for the rant…i really needed it. Sorry for the long post.
Good night, people!
Daydreamer's Mind 