I try really hard not to mention these things in here because I really want this to be about my own journey and not just a depressing thread to read.
She called me huge. I am normally okay with that, because they are 5 and they will notice that I am the largest teacher, the same way they notice that all three teachers have different skin colors. That is normal. But it does get to me on a core level, I think. My coworker handled it perfectly by taking her aside and talking about how we are all different from each other, yet we still work together and get along, etc.
STBX told me I was repulsive and he found me disgusting. He rarely wanted to have sex with me, which, to be honest, was more than fine with me because I always felt like being sick during it. I have this small little part of me inside that wants to feel unconditional love from someone. Perhaps that is why it was so hard giving up my cats. They provided that to me. Even with my students, it is often conditional. People love you if you provide something for them that they want. It is probably very different when you have children of your own, so please know that I am not comparing the two kinds of love. I am not.
I worry that I wont be hired because I am so heavy. I also wonder if my binge today un-does all of the hard work I have put in the past week.
I identify mostly as asexual because I really can't imagine why anyone would want to kiss another person or be intimate with someone. This might perhaps be way against the UA to even mention it, and if so, I am sorry and I will delete it
I have had a lot of therapy surrounding my sexuality and I think my main problem is my STBX being my first and only. I feel like I can't just dismiss all future people based on that one stretch of bad experiences. I don't believe that he ever touched me in a loving way. I don't want to be touched right now. I often e-mail people ahead of time and ask them to please not hug me when I see them. When the only touches you get are slaps, punches and kicks, you just turn it off and shut it down.
One of the littlest kids at school loves me. I have to believe that. He gave me a teddy bear last Valentine's Day and I remember hiding it because I was so afraid that my husband would destroy it. But during the darkest times when I wanted to die, I looked at it and though "hey, someone on this planet is benefiting from knowing me, and maybe that is enough right now." and I would keep going another day.
And my therapist says that I am better. I have come as far as I can, etc, etc, etc. And maybe I have. It is fun to entertain the idea that perhaps I am "fixed". I think leaving my husband was a large part of the journey. But now the other part happens. The part where I am not keeping myself drugged on food 24/7 to survive. The part where I exercise because, darnit, it is just plain good for me. The part where maybe some man smiles at me and talks to me and it is normal and even possibly socially acceptable to smile back.
I remember when I worked at the shelter this chef would come over every weekend and donate the leftovers from these fancy parties he catered. And he was always so nice to me. Nothing inappropriate, mind you
But he would ask me how I was and tell me that he liked the flowers I put in the hall, etc. He was just nice. And I remember being so confused by that because I was not used to that. I was 29 years old and I was not used to a man being nice to me. Just for the sake of being nice.
Which says a lot of bad things about my life, really, when you think about it