The Story of Me
2002-01-30 18:38:49 (UTC)

She called

Monica finally called me yesterday. She was hanging out with
friends but graced me with a 20 minute call. I don't know
why this bothers me so much. I have been doing a lot of
looking into myself rather than obsessing about why she
hasn't called. I have come up with more questions than
answers, but I seem to have found a little rest in the
questions and half-assed answers.

I went shopping with my best friend Julie on Monday night
and was talking about Monica. Then out of no where I said
to Jules, "Why does this bother me so much? Is it because I
have a some sort of sick fear of committment? Why haven't I
been able to be faithful to Frank?" When I think about it,
I wonder if maybe so many things can't be linked back to my
parents. I know it sounds rediculous to blame my problems
on my parents, but maybe there is some truth to it. I was
very traumatized my their divorce. It just broke my heart
when my father left. I know he left because my mother wanted
him to, I know that now. But since I was nine, I believed
that he left because he wanted to. That is when my weight
began to become an issue, that is when I became a different
Mindy. I almost wonder if my life hasn't been impacted
tremendously from that feeling of being abandoned. Maybe I
surround myself with possible mates in preperation for Frank
leaving me. Maybe my rationale is "Daddy didn't love me
enough to stay, so what makes me think that Frank will stay?
What makes you so worthy of being loved if you couldn't get
your own father to love you?"

When I put this in writing, it sounds so stupid. I can't
even believe I am writing it. I just never bothered to ask
myself these questions before, never looked for a root of
the issues, just accepted that I was insecure, had a low
self-esteem becuase I was fat. I never bothered to ask,
"Why am I fat?" Sure, I was a chunky one before my dad
left, but I wasn't like I am now. I think these feelings of
lonliness and rejection have caused me to wrap myself in a
blanket of fat to protect myself. If I look like an ogre,
no one will love me, therefor I don't have to trust, and
risk being hurt again. *pausing to reflect on what I just
wrote and drag of my Marlboro* The more I think about this,
the more the rational adult in me says, "You're full of
shit." But then there's the vulnerale part of me that I
destest saying, "There's truth to it." I'm supposed to be
strong and take the cards life has dealt me, and play them.
If I lose, well hell, that's life.

I do know that it has taken me a very long time to put my
parent's divorce behind me. Apparently, I haven't put it
all that far behind me. I am so attached to the things that
exist from my parent's marriage. My mother still has a
bedroom set from when they were married. I find myself
wanting to get a hold of anything I can that exists from the
Joe and Debe era. Sentimental? Perhaps. Maybe it's more
due to the fact that I haven't let go of all that
disappointment, fear of the future, and sadness.

I have to give my father credit, he tried to put me in
therapy when I was in 5th grade. I just don't think that at
that age, I was ready to deal with it all. Maybe I would
benefit from someone to talk to aout all of this here and
now. I don't know. All I know is that I can't seem to find
anything I am truly passionate about in my life besides
wanting children and a ranch. Funny that I want the things
most that seem so impossible. It's beginning to look like
that is the pattern on which my adult llife is based.
Dreams and wishes, but fear of success? No, not that. Fear
of getting there and discovering that I am no good at it,
and I will lose more things that I love.

Who knows?...

I find myself going through spurts of throwing myself into
my relationship with my husband. Deep intimate devotion,
but it never lasts long. Is that how it is for everyone?
Hot one day... cold the next? Am I just following the
natural ebb and flow of life? Bills, jobs, relationship...
all floating on the tide of life? Or maybe I try to juggle
all these things, searching for the perfect balance in
desperate hopes of finally feeling love, accepted and

I do know that my father and I have put many things behind
us, as far as how he didn't love me like I needed to be
loved. Missing volleyball games, Open Houses, just being
father and daughter. I do love my dad. So damn much that I
am finding myself with tears welling up when I say I love my
dad. I know it does no good to wish the past was different.
All I can do now is move forward and make the best of the
time of God has given us.

Enough for now... time to think, reflect, share, gather
insight from those closest to me. Maybe even to call my dad
and tell him I love him. And to let my husband know that I
love him. Even though I am scared Frank, I do love you, and
I thank you for loving me. Your patience and kindness have
truly been a virtue. Thank you so much for standing beside