Kate Schreck 07/18/2018
Here’s my story. Please forgive the typo’s. If I overthink it, I’ll never post it.
I grew up in a household with parents who remained married for us kids, but never really connected. My mom came from money but was unambitious and overweight her whole life. Her parents & normal sized siblings condescended to her and tried to “fix” her with surgeries and fat camps. She rebelled and married an uneducated, blue collar guy. So my dad married for money and my mom married for spite. We grew up very poor because of my mom’s dogged estrangement from her family.
My dad hated how his 3 daughters were all heavy and his son had ADHD and needed meds and special care and wasn’t like a normal boy. I grew up hearing his negative statements about me and my sisters, and we all developed depression and other issues, dating the wrong guys, early sexual activity, etc. In 1995 (in high school), I meet a damaged young man and “fell in love”. My parents thought I could do better, so naturally, I took it all the way and married him, and planned on “fixing” him. I devoted 10 years of my life, before and after HS graduation, working through all the anger issues, court dates, and jail time, paying all his fines, only to deal with his mom call me things like “heifer” and “fatty” behind my back AND to my face, and having him dump me for being fat and un-sexy and then come running back later.
Seems petty, I know, but I basically went through my entire life believing that I was not good enough for any good guy and never would be.
I finally wised up and asked for a divorce (while he was in jail) even though it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I experimented with a few guys and started journaling. After my ex got out of jail, he read my journal (without permission, of course) and couldn’t handle it, and tried to hang himself in my garage, I had to pull him down and revive him, and he survived. I met a great guy soon after and married pretty quickly, but I knew it was right, after experience all the wrong things… Fast forward…
Even though I am 65lbs smaller than the old me, 14 years separated from the person who hurt me, and married to an amazing and supportive man who has done nothing but love me, I am endlessly tortured by the fact that someday, he, and everyone else, will eventually tire of my antics and realize that I’m not, and have never been, good enough, and I’m always waiting for that other shoe to drop. This has led me to self medicate with alcohol to overcome anxiety and poor self-esteem, and I am constantly seeking approval from others. I often feel unable to stop the cycle even though I desperately want to. I should say, that, lately, I feel very good, but I'm sure that the monster is only sleeping, not dead.