I never think of myself as a victim of domestic abuse. But I am. My tormentor still takes great glee in making my life miserable when ever he can. I actually count the years until the only contact I will ever have with my tormentor is weddings, births and deaths. 6 more years. I’ve lasted 21, another 6 seems like a walk in the park.
I’m a stubborn person. I stand up to him and his wife. I won’t let them push me around or turn the children into tiny voiceless beings. But all this constant harassment and the continual assault on myself and the children has left its mark. Outwardly I am a tower of strength, a woman happy with her life and full of fun. Inwardly I am a wreck more often than not.
I am terrified of meeting new people. Constantly worry about how they are judging me, mocking my choices, laughing at my obvious low education and inability to speak a coherent train of thought. I don’t ever feel that I am valued or needed. These are some of the scars I carry. My burden from years of being told how worthless I am. I’m my mind this doesn’t make sense. I argue that this information, this outdated view is from one man and not the consensus of the majority. Yet I find subconsciously I fall into to the same pattern of ruling out my worth as a human being. It is an endless cycle that even effects my health, to the point it is actually worrying me.
I am almost 40kg over weight. That is a massive number. I can chart my weight gain with every major event in my life. While some of it is due to my illness, the rest is psychological. I gained 25kg to hide in. 25kg to make me unattractive to the opposite sex. 25kg so that people wouldn’t want to talk to me in case they too caught the ‘fat bug’. 25kg to be a buffer against the human race.
It is totally illogical. I wrestle with the knowledge that I am committing self harm in order to preserve a safety barrier from people who may or may not hurt me. I know exactly what I have done, what I continue to do and yet find myself completely unable to stop myself. I am hurting myself to protect myself. It is maddening to think about but this is my everyday existence. If people view me as disgusting to look at, they don’t interact with me. Nobody wants anything from me. I’m safe in my fat.
I take mental notes on all interactions I have with people. 80% of those are negative. I’m not kidding. From the supermarket checkout to the Doctor’s waiting room, people judge me and treat me based on my weight. Depending on how I am feeling at the time these judgements are either mild entertainment or irritating. Some days I feel sorry for those that judge me harshly. It must be awful to live in such a narrow minded world. Other days I want to scream at those judgements “you don’t know me or what I endure”. But no matter what I’m feeling I still am thankful for my excess weight. My buffer against people getting to close to me.
This madness has to stop. Hiding in my weight, hiding in plain sight from the possibility being emotionally hurt is ridiculous. The only person being hurt is myself. I have closed myself off to even the smallest chance of ever finding friendship. I hide in a body that disgusts most people just to be over looked, ignored and left alone. It is working. Men no longer admire me or give me compliments. Women don’t like to be near me for I convey everything that they might deem wrong in a female form. Most people would prefer to scoff at me and point out the harm I am doing myself than to strike up a conversation. I can stand in a crowded room and know I am safe from being approached. It is a very lonely life. A safe but lonely life.
This madness has to stop.
harpyfreedom 