I came here to write tonight because for the first time in a while I was scared witless. Scared by the ghost of my mother – and I know this is a safe place.

My first reaction was to call my therapist and yammer at his answering machine. I don’t know if I’ve ever done that before but I regretted it immediately. It feels too much like looking for someone to comfort and save me. I guess I feel like I should be able to do that myself at this point.

I am sitting in the parking lot of the gym writing, waiting for my partner to bring me gym clothes. I could have gone home to get them and when I asked him to do it I think I really thought it would save me time. Now I think I just want to see him, but know if I go home I will burrow, and maybe use food.

I read my post. Ironically what flipped me out was that someone I know from childhood, an old teacher who knew my mom, remakes how much I look like her. Ironic because in my last post I referenced that this could be a possibility.

When she said it my brain went into this automatic chant loop “I don’t want to look like mommy – don’t let her hurt me, don’t let her hurt me, don’t let her hurt me.” It wasn’t 10 minutes before I was in a full blown panic attack. Probably a lot less. I hadn’t had a real panic attack in probably over a year. Tears, shaking, pacing, chest and arm pain, feeling like my throat was closing and hearing echoes. Sweaty hands and this unbearable need to scream at the top of my lungs or claw my way out of my skin. It was awful. Awful awful.

I’m starting to calm now and I’m exhausted. And I know I have to make it into that gym and break this cycle. I have to exercise, risk losing weight, and risk confronting the thing I am most afraid of. Terrified of. My therapist uses the word terror. I think he’s right.

I did have the surgery. It happened June 27th. From my highest of 426 I am down 77 lbs. I went in at 399. I don’t regret it, but I definitely underestimated my ability to withstand this.

I think it caught me off guard because it wasn’t a family member. A person who last saw my mom maybe close to 20 years ago.

How do I convince myself that the image in the mirror is NOT my mother?

When mommy died I had a lot of trouble reconciling it. For some bizarre reason she looked like Nana in the casket. I verified this with other family members – that it wasn’t my mind playing tricks. No too women look less alike in life. Mommy is 5′ 10″ and Nana was 5’2″ if she stood on a box. But yet they looked so similar. My dreams for months were that there was some horrible mistake and that mommy’s alive only the funeral home did t want to admit it so they dug Nana out of cold storage. That’s where she had been since she had died because her mausoleum hadn’t been finished being built yet. Anyway the dream always ended with me being in trouble for not visiting mommy and trying to for her back in my life.

I haven’t thought about all of that in a long time.


One thought on “Update

  1. I was told I looked like my abuser mother a year ago by someone I hate and had avoided for years. It still upsets and enrages me.

    Good for you for all your hard work. Good and healing thoughts to you.


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