Thoughts

Are all relationships like this? Never being able to truly let your guard down with them because the moment you do, they show you why you shouldn’t? It’s exhausting, and it’s honestly not even fun anymore.
When you start out, you’re full of all this optimism and these thoughts about a grand and wonderful future together. But nothing goes as planned. I started out with so much in my life, and thanks to him and his past and his actions, I’ve got close to nothing left.
When we started out, I was innocent and easily pleased. Everything and everyone was beautiful in its’ own way. I was a caring, kind, and gentle person who gave all of herself and asked for nothing in return. I was proud of who I was and I was happy.
Now though, I can’t remember the last time I was proud of myself. I can’t remember the last time I did something meaningful for me. I work and I stress and I love. I cook and I clean and I nurture. But it’s never enough. I’m never enough.
I’ve fought more battles to keep him than he ever will to keep me. I’ve fought drugs, alcohol, and porn to have a place in his heart. And just when I think I’ve won, I’ve lost. But, I’m too stupid and too attached to give up. I’m too much in love to hurt him the way he hurt me. And all the talking in the world will never help him understand what I’ve gone through mentally and emotionally.
I know you aren’t supposed to be with someone for what they can offer you, but it feels impossible to stay in a relationship that gives nothing back in comparison to what you have.
What if I’m going through all this because I should’ve left when all of this first happened? What if all of this could’ve been avoided had I called it quits when I should have? What if it’s too late to hope for anything better? What if I’m too bitter to notice it if it comes around?
I miss the old me. The me that had dreams and ambitions to be bigger and better than what everyone wanted of me?! I miss pushing myself to make myself better. Growing smarter and stronger every day. I miss feeling like I’m worth something not to anyone else, but to me. I haven’t felt that way in so long.
After everything that’s happened, I feel so world weary. So tired. I just want to end it all

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Background

I was once told by someone that people who are overweight tend to use food as a “crutch” for some emotional wounds that they’re trying to fill. I’m a firm believer that health is more than just physical exercise and dieting, it’s also emotional and mental. So, I’m gonna attempt to unload all my emotional baggage here so that I can move past it and stop trying to eat away my problems. Prepare for some craziness!

The overeating began young in life. I had my choice comfort foods, and honestly, none of them were healthy. I pretty much lived off of fast food (Mom worked as a famous fast food chain) and that’s really all we could afford. I had a happy meal at least twice a day, every day from the time I was two until I turned six.

When I was eleven, Mom suffered a severe injury at work that left her bedridden. I was an only child, and my father left us early on in my childhood. I was the only one that could take care of us. I didn’t know anything about cooking or caring for someone full-time, so most of our meals consisted of pasta (my comfort food), microwave meals, and take out.

By the time I entered middle school, things changed drastically. By now, my mother was completely addicted to pain pills, specifically oxycotin and oxycodone, which only help to heighten her aggressive tendencies. She hit me, more than just discipline. I was scared of my mother, always had been, but she was the only parent I had, so I thought this was “normal”.

School wasn’t an escape from my terrible home life like it should have been. I was sexually harassed on a daily basis by the boys at school and , at times, the teachers. Why? Because I developed way too early for a girl my age. By seventh grade I was a C- cup. No one noticed or tried to stop it, so I held in the hurt and my depression began to take it’s toll.

By high school, my mother and I were living with her “friends”, people I had come to consider family. I had known them since the first day of pre-school and I didn’t have anyone else. I was know responsible for taking care of my mother (still bedridden and addicted), a woman who was a poor excuse for a mother (she enjoyed men and drinking more than caring for her children, the woman’s brother (who sexually harassed me and raped his biological niece repeatedly during his strung-out drug hazes), and the woman’s three children, all of which I took care of on my own. No one except myself cleaned the house (roach infested and filthy).

I went from a straight A student to failing every class and eventually dropping out entirely when the bullying became too much. The Department of Family Services was called out repeatedly and I would have to stay home from school to clean the house so that they wouldn’t take me away from my mother.

I watched my best friend (the woman’s oldest daughter, she was my age) repeatedly try to commit suicide and spiral into an addiction to drugs and sex as a teen. Both of which she received from her uncle and his “friends”.

When my mother finally caught on to how terrible everything was (she had been blind to everything except my failing grades, which made me a “disappointment”), we moved out and into an apartment with her alcoholic long-term boyfriend. Not much of an upgrade . . .

He almost hit me . . . once. He spent all our money on liquor. We went without food and utilities at times. I was bullied at school because I couldn’t shower regularly because our water and heat were turned off for most of the winter. My mother’s sister finally saw what was going on, and moved us in with her. Things were better for a while. Until my mother took him back.

Eventually, I formally dropped out after moving eighteen times in twelve school years. There was no redeeming my grades. So, instead, I worked from home as my mother’s home health aide. I became immensely depressed, and I developed a fear of people. I became a hermit. It lasted for over two years.

Finally, I was introduced to my biological family (on my mother’s side). I was told that I had a sister and a brother (both older, that my mother didn’t raise). They all loved me when they met me. I felt happy for the first time in SO long! I used my first year’s income tax to move me and my mother (sans boyfriend) down south where they were. It is still the best decision I’ve ever made.

Just Maybe . . .

Why do I never believe what others say to me?

As if their words have two meanings?

Show me, with honest actions

That you love me

That you care

And that you’ll always be there

Because life before this was so unfair

I’ve been left alone

cold and scared

I’m so full of fear

Frightened to feel

Frightened to love

and most of all, frightened to move on

To lean on others

and be open to them

would take all the courage I gained from mending

Is it worth it?

Would I make it?

Or would my heart be pushed to its limits?

 

By: Sarah Fisk

Life

Why are things now what they seem?

Why the lies and deceit?

Why hide in fright of the superficial judges

who know no mercy

with their cutting words that hurt me?

The paranoia

the persecution

the propaganda

and the sickening pleasure they get from it

It’s madness

and the source of my misery

And I’m left helpless

without proper defense

and a merciless life sentence

By: Sarah Fisk

A Long Rant from I-Don’t-Remember-When

I need to be free of their controversies

of the ignorances that runs rampant

in streets full of hate, caused by evil beings

Trying to smother their demons by pointing their fingers in different directions

Not realizing that they’re the one’s at fault

The real reason why they’re cursed with this curse

to constantly hurt the people who love them

with their meaningless words

Why do we hurt who we love?

Live through a front?

Why is happiness never enough?

It’s ridiculous, this nonsense

Is it instinctual to ridicule all those around you?

You wonder why they despise you, why they hide from you?

I’ll tell you why, I’m not afraid of you!

Because your heart is filled with so much hatred,

you selfish little wench

You say you love us?!

Don’t make me laugh!

You don’t know what love is!

You only say that to keep from tossing and turning

from losing sleep every night while you dreams tell you what others already realize

“You’re pathetic and worthless”

“No one will ever love you”

and

“You don’t deserve all the good things that surround you”

These words haunt you when you’re alone

when you’re locked away, safe in your room

But I’ll say them out loud!

I don’t care to!

You can’t buy people’s love because

NEWS FLASH:

NO, your money will never be enough!

So, listen up, you spoiled little princess!

Give it a rest!

Everyone’s finally had enough of your B.S.

 

By: Sarah Fisk

The Gift

When we met on that park bench

something in me changed

An important feeling overcame me,

thoroughly

Every night became so like that day

You, overwhelming me

More that physically,

completely

When we parted at that train station,

I shook so much

My hope shattered

My heart torn

That’s why I’m here now

It’s been too long

The bench is still there

but all that happiness is gone

And even though you aren’t here

I’m whole, once more

I miss you still,

forever more

But, I have no regrets

With you, I grew

Do you even know?

You gave me more than I ever hoped for

Fast forward a few years . . .

I’m sitting in the that very park

My baby boy is laughing. . .

. . . He has your smile . . .

By: Sarah Fisk

Wasted Chance

At that gas station, our eyes met

How did I miss that “spark” in yours?

Years went by

You, by my side

The best of friends

At that diner off that dusty road,

everything changed

Oh, that “spark” was there,

But for someone else

She’s beautiful,

She’s yours

I realized it too

At that chapel, in that small town

You had eyes for only her

And she shone through,

Like an angel, in all that white

I was blind

It’s too late

It’s so wrong

I should have made you mine,

but now you’re gone . . .

By: Sarah Fisk