So there have been a few posts where I said that I would "elaborate" another time, another post. So with that being said, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to cover the two topics that I said I would cover, because two is all that I remember.
I don't know how it started nor do I know when, all I know is that it did. I have this horrible fear of the number six. It bothers me on a day-to-day basis and this fear has really changed my life. The first instance that I remember is being broken up with on June 6th by my 6th boyfriend. A series of events took place to and from that point. I can't exactly recall all of them. My ex-boyfriend, the one mentioned in a previous post that we call J, as well as my best friend and my parents were all trying to break me of this fear. I prayed about it religiously and felt like I tried all that I could do. Until one day, the day that I later decided was my confirmation point, that best friend and I decided to take a trip to Wal-mart. I was still relatively new to the new city I had just moved to so I didn't know the exact layout like I did Hendersonville, my home town that I was born and raised in until I was 17 years young. We pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot, I clearly remember it was a beautiful sunny day and Wally World's parking lot was packed with all types of vehicles. When K (the best friend) and I finally found a parking spot, we got out of the car and headed towards the door. I then realized, "I am parked in aisle 6, I have to move my car". Immediately I turned around and started to head towards my car and in return K pulled my arm and put me to a halt. She told me she would buy me anything in the store if I wanted her to but that my six insanity has got to come to an end. After arguing discussing it further I finally said okay and that I would put my combat boots on and battle. I was ready to take on number six and I was all prepared to win. The rest of the day was fine, nothing bad happened, we didn't wreck on our way home… all was fine. "SCORE!" is exactly what I thought. Then… the next morning I woke up with a text message from S, another one of my best friends, telling me that Nathan Johnson had died in a car wreck on his way to football practice. Nathan Johnson was all in all my inspiration to be a better person. He was my inspiration to be all that I could be and to not the little mishaps in life get me down. Needless to say, he was an all around amazing guy. Singer/Writer/Guitarist/Pianist for his band Through A Glass, was on the high school soccer team as well as football, he was in my church's youth group and was a part of the River's Edge Worship group. Furthermore, he was one HOT tamale! After this though, I have never been able to get over the number six. My parents have adapted to it. They know when watching TV and they go to turn the volume up the volume level must be a higher or lower number than 26 (because 25 is pretty much the ideal volume setting on our tv, that's why I say 26). At work when they ask me to put more potatoes on they know not to tell me to put six, they always choose 5 or 7. I still to this day do not park in aisle 6, and if I have to get something from the grocery store in aisle six it's normally me leaving my cart at the end of the aisle and running to get the item then running out of the aisle. I freak and my heart sinks if I look at the clock at 6:06. At work I know that a cornbread sandwich and a medium drink costs exactly $6.66 I always add a penny to the charge thus leaving it to be $6.67. (don't worry my dad knows about this and he just goes along.) Pretty much anyone that is close to me knows about my fear. They know that I'm horribly freaked out. The first time I ever rang up the CB sandwich and a md drink I went into a panic, had to leave the cash register and go outside to catch fresh air because I was sweating bullets. My manager took it over from there, she automatically knew what was wrong. Call me a freak, I'm fine with that. Because if I could change it I would and honestly half the time when I think about how much my life revolves around running from the number 6 it really shakes me up and almost brings me to tears.
It all started in seventh grade in middle school. I was pretty much the ugly duckling. I had nothing spectacular about the way I looked. I was pale with blonde hair and I looked plain. I took my frustrations out on my body. I felt if I could just get a little skinnier then maybe I would be beautiful. Little did I know that I was actually becoming more skeleton-like, and much less attractive then my starting point. At the time I saw myself so much larger than I really was. My basic meal plan was no breakfast, a SOBE energy drink for lunch with a 4-pack of peanut butter crackers and a very small or no dinner at all. You may be wondering, how in the world did your parents not catch on to such a thing? They always knew I was petite and they dismissed my poor eating habits because I always told them that I ate a large lunch so they finally became accustom to it. However, that was not the case. If I did have more than my basic meal plan I immediately went to the restroom to throw up. Being in the bathroom for such an extended time I told my parents I just had diarrhea, trust me they backed off then. If not eating was bad enough, I had this crazy addiction to the treadmill. I was constantly running my ass off and doing as many crunches I could, on average it ranged from 200-300 crunches a day. This little rampage towards being beautiful continued till I was a freshman in high school. After doing badly on my report card I came home and fell out on the floor and told my mom everything. I told her that I couldn't handle life anymore, that I was a pathetic excuse for a human being. My mom scheduled an appointment for me to go meet with a doctor that finally diagnosed me with depression. We talked about my multiple suicide attempts and my eating habits, I finally bared all. He started me out on 20mg Zoloft. Over the years, my mgs have been increased to 100, and soon I will be scheduled for a reexamination/check-up. I still have my days, but I'm stronger than I ever was before. Now I am a proud chunky kid that embraces my thickness. My dark days are over and I will never be returning to that point. I have come to my senses and conquered my disease, now I realize that my body is a temple and that I am to cherish it for what it's worth. I feel the need to post a picture. This picture was me my sophomore year of high school after gaining 20lbs. My collarbones still poke out and my chest is still caved in. Don't let the "boobs" fool you, I was wearing an ultra-padded strapless and the blouse had a padded bra as well.
What are some of the things you have overcome? Do you have a fear that will not let you go?