Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Hidden Structural Defects

These pieces of information partially explain my fuckedupness.

My mother has struggled with her weight all of her life. My paternal grandfather died when my father was nine years old and his widowed mother physically and emotionally abused him. My mother is a recovering alcoholic. My father might be an alcoholic.

When I was very young, my parents bought a book about sex that was written for children. At the age of six, I knew how a baby was made. My parents were proud of their liberal parenting.

My mother is accomplished. She has two bachelor's degrees and a master's degree and has had three disparate and successful careers.

My father had a Playboy subscription through my teenage years. His ultimate compliment was to tell me I was beautiful. My father is accomplished. He had a master's degree which was later converted to a doctorate, due to the voluminous amount of research he did in pursuit of the degree.

My brother was diagnosed as hyperactive when he was six and I was eight; Mom and Dad got rid of all the sugar in our house.

Despite secretly eating junk food and engaging in vigorous exercise only part of the year (during my sport's season), I was at a healthy weight until I left high school.

Sexual acting out was part of my active alcoholism. Since getting sober, I have gained 70 pounds. This weight allows me to avoid sexual feelings. It allows me to hide. It allows me to eat what I want to eat.

I'm on Facebook and I have nearly 400 friends. Most of them are unaware of my obesity. My old high school friends don't know that I'm a Weight Watcher.

My husband and I have not slept in the same bed for over a year and a half. We haven't had sex for over a year.

Since I got sober in 2005, I've been on five different antidepressants (not all at one time) and one mood stabilizer. I've had four therapists, including one who specialized in eating disorders. Six months ago, I completed a supervised taper off all of the psych meds. I saw a therapist about a month ago and I have no plan to go back.

I'm not having suicidal thoughts.

I feel sad. I feel frustrated with what feels like an inability to accomplish goals I set for myself.


Friday, February 26, 2010

Balance is a Bitch

I saw my therapist yesterday; together we decided that I should knit a sweater with "Balance is a bitch!" on it. I think I may actually do it.

I'm at work right now and I have a computer, but I am not permitted to access the Internet, so I'm posting from my Blackberry.

Not much to report or write about right now, just want to get back in the swing of posting regularly. Looking forward to catching up with y'all.

Hugs - JO


Wednesday, February 10, 2010


A couple of weeks ago I asked my husband why we don't have sex anymore. I knew the answer but was devastated to hear it coming from his lips.

I wonder what I give him that makes him want to stay with me despite the fact that we neither sleep together nor have sex.

Reading these few sentences makes me feel doom about our long and very happy marriage. My therapist says there's more to intimacy than intercourse and it's true that we do hug and peck and snuggle... I wonder if my inability to believe that it's not that important points to the sick way I've always thought and felt about sex... I have often acted as though I have no value except for my sex.