Guilt and Self Image

I was reading TracyZ's blogpost this morning and man, it really resonated deep within me. It made me cry. I have so much guilt that I carry around like my own secret monkey on my back that I don't even know where to start on getting it all off of me.

I am NOT good at sharing my life. I haven't written a blog in a while because I have been so damned depressed that I could barely breathe, much less share it with anyone else. I am the only child of drug addicts. Of course I keep secrets, most that probably shouldn't be kept. I write spurts and then stop. I talk spurts and stop.

Saturday night, we had company and wine....lots of wine. I usually stop and one maybe two glasses. This was YUMMY wine. Hubs and I were drinking it, company was drinking a different one. The two of us finished off 2 bottles by ourselves. Thinking back, I think he only had three glasses. Ouch. Company goes home, everyone all smiles, giggles and promises to do it again soon. Hubs, my mom, my 20 yr old daughter and her fiancee who lives with us are all sitting around the table and I started talking. Not sure what led to that point, but when the flood gates opened, I let it out.

In 1992, I was raped by three men and left in a bathroom. Without going into gory details, it was a very hard time for me. It nearly killed me...if not physically, mentally and spiritually. I still struggle. They caught two of the men, took it to grand jury and they said there wasn't enough evidence to go to trial. That's fine, I didn't want to re-hash it in front of a room of people judging every word I said and deciding if it was true. I know the truth.

This lead to the deterioration of my first marriage. It took 7 more years for it to fully implode, but I think that's my fault. I carry that guilt.

My dad blamed me because I didn't "get mad enough" for the grand jury. Um, yeah, anger is not an emotion I was allowed to have and develop growing up. It was not allowed in my house. Ever. Not from me at least. They were angry all the time. Mostly at me, I kept them from the life they wanted. I carry the guilt from that too.

My dad is dead, I don't miss him. He was an evil, poisonous person. But my mom wallows in her sorrow over losing him. He had a heart attack on her birthday, a month later he had a surgery that he never woke up from. He was in a coma for almost 1 month. I was there every day thinking I needed to make things right. At the christmas before, we had a huge blow up with me telling him "The next time I see you will be to spit on your grave and I hope to see you soon." Yeah, well...I think he died to spite me.

I tried when he had the heart attack. I apologized, and he told me "You live your life, I will live mine, get out of my room." Those were the last words we exchanged. I carry that guilt. Not for me, but because it hurt my kids. He was great to them. He was the person they looked up to and they miss him terribly.

So I went into GREAT detail about the rape for my family. I never had said some of those things outloud. EVER. It was hard, but I guess it needed to be done.
This conversation carried on into the bedroom, hubs and I had a heart to heart. It's been 7 months for us. I blamed myself because of my weight. Turns out he thought I wasn't into him. Anyway...it was a good night.

I look at myself and I see the disgusting blubbery lump of lazy goo that I fight every day to get rid of. Every bite, every thought, every drink. It's exhausting and I feel like I am spinning my wheels. I am going tomorrow for my second opinion on having surgery. I hope he will listen and give me some help.