Facing and conquering my demons

Writing this blog in some strange way has become therapy for me.  I understand completely that healing only begins with raw, unadultered honesty. As I write my thoughts about my journey I have uncovered truths about myself a long the way that I have openly shared with people out there in "blogland". It has not always been easy, in fact, there have been times the tears have rolled down my cheeks as I have stared at my computer viewing what I had written. Today's blog will be a very difficult blog for me to write, but I "must" put "pen" or "fingers to my keyboard" to express my thoughts to continue my journey of healing. In fact, depending on how far I get this may be a continuing blog until I feel I have sufficiently expressed my thoughts and raised my awareness of some of my past demons.

I was raised with five siblings, all of us starkly different from each other. I understand that even though we were raised together, our perception of our childhood will not necessarily be alike depending on various circumstances or pecking order. These are my thoughts and my perceptions from my "little girl" eyes. I was extremly close to my dad who died suddenly when I was 11 years old. I was absolutely devastated when he was killed in a tragic logging accident. Although I am now 57 yrs old, I can remember the day like it was yesterday, the thought of that day can still bring me to tears. I remember sitting on my dad's lap at breakfast that fateful morning and hugging him goodbye, only to never see him again. Daddy and I were similar, we spoke the same language. He was affectionate, warm and his eyes always smiled when I told him about my day. I would say funny things and he would laugh, often times he would tell my mom I was the "happy" child of the family. I never felt disapproval from my dad, only love and mutual admiration.

I loved my mom too, although she was not affectionate or necessarily warm. My mother was raised herself without affection so it was difficult for her to give affection or any kind of a compliment, after all we certainly did not want to be "proud". My mother came from a home with extreme rules and restrictions.  In the last years before my mom passed on, we would hold her down to give her a hug or squeeze. It became a game and she loved every minute of it. My mother sacrificed greatly for all of us children after daddy died. I will be forever grateful to her for her sacrificial love.

OK, I guess there will have to be a Part II in a few days. Part II will be about my journey after my father died. You will begin to understand how I began to use food immediately after he died to feed my loneliness, feel comforted and to feel "in control." Stay tuned ...