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Acquaintanceships and Friendships

Friendships. I’ve always struggled with holding on to friendships all my life. Some of the choices to not be friends with some were not even my choice, it was someone who made that choice for me. I’m not sure why I wasn’t able to hang out with certain people when I was a child. I was always left feeling like I did something wrong. I still felt that way through my teen years as well as now in my adult life. I am still finding it hard to be friends with people. The kind of friendship that I want is someone to talk to me throughout the week, they want to hang out in person and do something or even do nothing but hang out with each other doing it. Grab a coffee and go for a drive but not have it one sided that only one person drives all the time. I’d like a friendship where you can talk about anything and everything no matter what kind of weirdness needs to be talked about. I’ve craved a friendship like one would crave chocolate after eating a spicy meal. I  crave from people and found out later on they were never meant to be friends with. I was either used for who I was from the kindness I give, time or even sometimes money.

I’ve had countless friendships, so many I don’t think I could count on my fingers. I don’t know why I can’t keep friends. I try not to be needy, I try not to make it about me, I try to keep in touch but not be too bothersome. I don’t know what the other person needs because they don’t or won’t communicate it with me. I recently got a text from a “friend” who she claimed to be my best friend, I never used those words because it was so hard to read her sometimes. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted from me. What I learned from her is that I couldn’t be what she needed. I was by her side, but she never spoke her truth to me. At the end, I forced myself to ask why she never responded to my text messages from months, to weeks ago. She eventually said she just couldn’t be my friend, she didn’t have time for me, and if I wanted to I could still talk to her but she just don’t have time to respond. I wasn’t that upset. I felt it coming for a while. 

She was a “taker”. She took from me in ways of money, time, emotion, that I will never get back. She was also the type to cancel plans she would create. I’ve always had a sense that something is about to happen before it happens. We’d have plans for getting dinner. I’d be getting into the car to leave and she’d text and say she’s soooo sorry, but she can’t do dinner. I got countless texts that would leave me hanging, literally. I remember months ago, I got to the restaurant and she said she’d meet me there. I waited at the table by myself for 1 hour. Eventually the waitress told me, the person coming; is not actually coming. She ordered me some appetizers and told me to take my time. I sat there alone in a restaurant, eating alone, wondering why she wasn’t texting me and once I got into my car. I cried on the way home. I was so hurt. Again, she made the plans, she set them up, she stood me up. It was embarrassing. I was hurt. I didn’t talk to her for a while until I knew what to say. She never texted me back about standing me up either. I should have known she wasn’t going to give me what I needed for a friendship. She was just another acquaintanceship added to an invisible list. I’ve deleted her phone number and name out of my phone. I also deleted her off social media. I don’t want to share with people who don’t have time for me, don’t want anything to do with me. They don’t deserve to know about me and how I am doing for their stalking tendencies on Facebook or Instagram.

I currently have an ongoing acquaintanceship. I don’t get much from it. I get to talk some things out when she has time to listen. She has a family and is much older than me. I feel us being close and then not being close over and over again. Again, not what I want in a friendship. I took her out for her birthday because she always seems so stressed out and needs to get away from life for a bit. I took her to dinner and we talked a bit. After I dropped her off, we haven’t seen each other. The new year came and went, holidays, hard times, and good times, and she drifted away. Rarely texts me back. When she does she dumps anything and all things on me and then ghosts me again. She’s said it’s because she’s not feeling herself, she says she’s too busy, she says a lot, but that’s it. It’s all talk, no action.

I have an actual friendship. A friend, we will call her Zoe. I never gave up until one day a couple years ago when I needed to figure out how this friendship could survive. A little back story, we met in elementary school. I was friends with her sister actually. She had a different childhood than I did and for years we were apart and I didn’t get to see her much. We talked on the phone as much as we could. I tried to stay connected as best I could. She was miles away from me. Zoe’s sister was not a friend I stayed in contact with, we had different interests and drifted apart. Zoe and I stayed in contact throughout our early adult years and we went through a lot of stuff together. Some of our conversations were a lot about her and her problems she was dealing with. I did my best by just allowing it to happen but eventually I just had to be open and honest with the possibility of her being mad and not wanting to be friends. She knows my dark secrets and I knew that it would never come out if we decided not to be friends. She came to see me for a weekend, the day before she canceled and told me not to be mad. I was mad. I was upset. I felt it coming for a couple days, and then I just told her I understood and that I was upset and we’d plan something some other time for her to visit. Then hours later she changed her mind. 

When she finally got down to our home. I was excited but nervous. I didn’t know how to feel or to think about her last minute cancel to last minute coming to visit all in a few hours. When she was visiting she was always on her phone, she talked about herself, she was saying how she wished she was somewhere else. That hurt. It hurt so much. Why wasn’t I enough? What did I have to change to be enough? Then at the end of the weekend, I sent her a long message. I told her I needed some space to figure out if this friendship was worth having. She agreed and she unfriended me from Facebook. I took her out of my phone and put her somewhere else in my notes. For a year and half I had no contact with her. I was able to figure out what I wanted or needed in a friendship. I really wanted to have a real talk. So I messaged Zoe on Facebook and told her what our lasting friendship for 12 years was consumed by. How the last time we saw each other was, like for me. What I need in a friendship, what I wanted in a friendship. That I deeply missed talking to her. Then one day we just talked to each other on the phone and talked it all out. She said what she needed, wanted, and we agreed to just be better for each other. Being honest with each other when something is difficult. Even with a break of talking. We’ve been consistent friends, or as we both say it, Best Friends for 21 years. I had to do the math. It seems like such a big number. I even asked Zoe about the math. We agreed 21 years seems correct. We are better than ever. We’ve started playing video games together. We talk mutually about hardships in our own individual lives.

I also recently became closer to someone I was connected with a while ago. We saw each other more when I lived closer. Honestly, I drifted apart because back then, I didn’t know what I wanted for friendship until after Zoe. I recently became more open with this person. We shall call her Olivia. She has a beautiful home and family and soul. Nothing is wrong with her or our beginning of our friendship. Nothing to critique. I just feel close to her, one because we just hear each other talk, we struggle with similar things in life even if we have differences in our lives. She’s always available, and she is the FIRST one to ever tell me, “if you need to talk at 1am, I am here for you.” I’ve always been the one to say that and nobody ever took me up on the offer when they were struggling. I usually am sleeping by 1am but at least if I ever need to, I can reach out. Even if she doesn’t respond at 1am because she should be sleeping, she’ll respond when she wakes up. The love she gives me when we talk on the phone, the feeling like I am good enough, that I am worth it. I give it back. I want her to know that she is loved, she’s enough, and she is worth it. I will work at my two friendships with these two people because they give me what I’ve been fighting for, for all these years.

4 Month Weight-loss Journey Update

If you’ve read the first blog about weight loss, you would know that I started a goal of 470 days from the day I started. The 470th day would be January 1st, 2022. The first 100 days were so easy. I walked every day for weeks on end. Sometimes I was walking so much my feet were hurting. But I kept it going. I was determined to walk for 30 days in a row. On September 17th, 2020 I started this journey and it wasn’t going to be an easy one. In this month before I even started this journey, I was walking every day. For the month of September, I had walked a total of 923 minutes and 40 miles. That first month of eating better and exercising I was noticing some changes in my face and how I was able to move around. Each day progressed and I was on this kind of high like everything was going to be easy and I was feeling happy and energized every single day.

In October I walked for 904 minutes and 42.76 miles. I walked more in October than in September. I noticed that each time I walked I was walking faster and it was becoming easier to get up each hill. For most of my walks, I was on the phone with my mom and we both noticed that our breathing became easier each day that we walked. I sort of became a reason my mom also wanted to get back to exercising. Each day I called her and told her how many miles I had done and it made me feel so good that someone also liked hearing my achievements. I was eating the way I wanted to eat. I was preparing meals for the week and would eat them in the order that I cooked them for and also so I wouldn’t be bored with what I was eating. I also started eating 3 meals a day with a snack in between meals so that I was getting enough calories inside my body. I was drinking half of my body weight in water and every time I lost a couple of pounds I’d redo the math so I wasn’t drinking too much water for my body to handle. It was pretty simple for drinking water. I only was drinking water for my fluids and protein shakes for snacks so that I’d stay full and wouldn’t eat food that I shouldn’t.

I also stopped eating at fast-food restaurants and eating processed foods. Occasionally I did eat Chinese food, because- well Chinese food. I also had started a new job and tried walking as much as possible with also trying to get enough sleep before work. I was driving more than I have in a while and the sun was going down sooner so by the time I wanted to walk it was too dark for walking. I did start doing YouTube videos. I hate to sound like I am making excuses but I don’t like doing videos of exercise. I feel uncomfortable even when I am alone. In November I walked for 486 mins and 22 miles, it was easy to walk but I started to struggle with wanting to go for the walk. My motivation was kind of spiraling out of control. I was eating correctly but struggled with walking. In December it became colder and because of the pandemic, the last place I want to be working out is in a gym. I also wanted to continue to walk but it started to get really cold and I don’t like to freeze while I am sweating. I kept walking as much as I could. Since the end of November, I have struggled to keep this journey going. I have wanted to just stop, but I am not a quitter. I’m trying again to get back on track. Between September 2020 and January 31st I had lost 19lbs and kept it off.

Starting this first week in February I have weighed in. I am 315lbs and I am uncomfortable with the way I look, feel, think about myself, think what my partner must think about me. I don’t feel right. I can’t eat certain foods because I started to feel ill. I have started making lists of things that don’t agree with my stomach or body. This first week I have also started off with making meals with more vegetables and protein and fewer carbs. I hope that in the next few weeks things get easier. I will try to be adding more exercise at home no matter how uncomfortable I feel. At least I will be doing something that will make me feel better. I also want to start jump roping even though when I jump I feel like I am going to die from the jumping part. February is my startup and get back on track kind of month. I don’t have as much time as I had hoped in the way of this journey but 334 days to go. I can do this. I have decided that the weight I want to be is 215. I can do this. I can. I just need to stick with it the best I know how.

The Time Is Now! 470 Days To Go!

Top of the Mountain

I started a weight-loss journey at the end of August beginning of September. I did great that first week and half and then I stopped. Argh. I know I needed to do it, but I work better with goals. Not goals in I want to lose this amount of weight, or when I make it to this number I will do this for myself. That doesn’t work for me. I wrote entire blog ready to publish it and I couldn’t. It was very boring, I didn’t talk about anything because I didn’t do anything. So Boring.

And Then! One night I was laying in bed wondering what I want, where I see myself, wondering why, when I dream I am way smaller than I am right now. I started to make up what I wanted to do for a weight-loss program, and then it hit me. I’m just going to eat what I want, give up some foods, have special lunches Monday through Friday. On weekends I will spoil myself with an “unhealthy” snack. With being in recovery with an eating disorder, if I tell myself I can’t have cookies, I’ll sneak a cookie. I know I will, I know I will do it and act like it didn’t happen. I did that for years. I decided to give myself a deadline per say. I know that it didn’t take a month or a year or a couple years to get fat, but I also know that if I work hard enough on myself I will eventually be able to get it off in 2 years. I decided that night, more like 1 am that I would start a journey of 470 days.

The Time is NOW! 🙂

In 470 days it would be the start of 2022. I have goals of course, not silly goals like I talked about in the first paragraph. By the start of 2022, I’d like to be close to the number of 199 pounds. I’d like to be gaining muscle in my arms and legs. I’d like to be wearing smaller clothes. I’d like to be able to be what I see in my dreams. I of course want to be healthy. I want to be able to wear dresses, I’d love to love myself when I look the mirror. Currently, I don’t like what I see. I know that I will get there and I will grow to love what I look like. I love myself as person, but I don’t love my body. I started this 12 days ago. On September 18th I made a post on my personal Instagram page, and soon I will be sharing on my Instagram page for my blog. Below is what I said: 

“ I have 470 days to lose 126 lbs of bullshit fat on my body. Yeah, I know that’s alot. I’ve never told a soul the amount I want to lose. I usually say 50 or 70 because it’s a smaller number but also because it’s embarrassing. I’m fat and I know this, I know people see it and tell me that I’m still pretty. Well actually I’d like to be prettier* at 199 lbs instead. So I’m gonna do that.

I’m gonna change myself. I need to for me, future self, future mother, future life. I keep finding reasons why I can’t or won’t or don’t want to . I have to STOP coming up with excuses. Seriously. I feel like absolute shit when I eat breads and pasta. My body seems to hate burgers and bacon. I don’t really enjoy condiments anymore. Eggs – yucky right now. Protein bars aren’t helpful, just keeps me from eating something better. Dairy doesn’t like me. If anyone who really know me, knows I love cheese. I’d buy stock in cheese… but it doesn’t always agree with me. Chicken is the only meat that has no issue with me. I just ordered turkey bacon. Almond milk only taste good with chocolate mixed but I am not a huge milk drinker. I like cereal once in a blueish moon. Recently, I just want to eat salads with chicken. Salads with avocado and dressing. Healthier dressings. If you have been in my life for a while you’d know that I start losing weight. I lose weight, self sabotage, fail, give up, and months later I start over. Well I am back, but this time I can’t sabotage. I am not going on a diet or doing any meal plants. I’m going to eat chicken, veggies, and rice. I’m going to give up fast food, muffins, cookies, donuts, sweets, ice creams, calzones, pizza, sandwiches, ice cream, added sugar (unless it’s honey). Most dreams I have at night time I have are me thinner than I am currently. I want to be what I dream of. I need to do better. I am better than what I settle for in the long run. I got this. 470 days. 126 lbs to go.”

Fall is Here!

Yeah, so I wrote that and the same morning I started:

Day 1 of 470:- on September 18th: I weighed in at 325 lbs. I went for a 2.29 mil walk, it took me about 45 minutes to complete. Where I walk is full of hills. Later in the day, I went for a second walk of 1.01 miles. Giving me 3.3 miles, and 68 mins of activity of sweating. I changed some things about what I said because I have to make sure that I won’t self sabotage myself when things start to get good, like treats. For dinner that night I had a half of rack of barbecue ribs and sweet potatoes with a little white onion.

The next day I started Day 2 of 470. I met with my mom that morning, and before she got there I walked the huge parking lots over and over again. It was 38 degrees out, but I did it. I did 1.27 miles in 25 mins, there were no hills. 

Day 3 of 470 I tried going for a walk at the orchard that I walk the hills but it was packed with people because it’s apple season. I went home and I did some stretches on the floor. I’ve learned that stretches have helped me get up the hills. I eventually went back to the orchard and I walked 1.65 miles in 37 minutes. 

On day 4, I woke up to a message from someone I’ve known for years and they unfollowed me because they didn’t want to see 470 daily posts of me because it’s boring and I shouldn’t be doing it for the likes and comments. I had to explain this in a post for the other people who follow me. “ First My IG acct is private, nobody but my followers can see me. Second. I don’t post for other people. I post for me and my memories. I don’t post for likes or comments. If someone comments, I’ll engage in some way, it’s polite. Third. Losing weigh is hard, and boring, and mentally challenging. I’ll have good posts and bad post along the day. It won’t be easy, I’ve known that for years. Fourth. I am honest on my page about struggles. Because it’s my* page. Just scroll if you aren’t interested in seeing my page. I won’t know if you pause me. Fifth. You’re still here? Haha. Sixth. One day I could help someone else. But for now, the next 466 days posts are about my weight-loss… It is what it is. So yeah, I lost a follower/friend. That’s fine. But this is also a post reminder that it will be okay. (And I can see this post when I’m thinner.)” 

It felt good to write this out. I needed to, because my posts, and blogs are for me, but they are also for someone who needs it too. 

That same day Day: 4 of 470: I went for a walk on the main road near my house. I have learned to not do that again. It was scary walking by fast cars driving 50 mph. I did it anyways. I walked down a winding hill and walked back up it. It was easier walking down of course, but I did struggle a little bit walking back up the hill. I walked 1.71 miles in 36 mins. Once I was done I was so tired.

Apple Orchard

Day 5 of 470: I went for a quick walk. I was going to do a rest day because I felt really sore but I did it anyways. I did .76 mile in 17 mins. It was enough to get me to work up a sweat.

I decided to a new factor of these days. I would eat salad for lunch Monday- Friday. Every lunch time, I would eat a salad with protein, cheese, a veggie on top, and if I want I can add some croutons and a little bit of dressing, but no so much it’s tooooo much dressing. 

Day 6 of 470: I was really feeling a lot of frustration with some things and I needed to walk it off. I kept walking because I wasn’t ready to go home yet. I wasn’t ready to be done. I just kept walking. I walked 3.21 miles in 1 hour and 7 minutes. Along the way, I met up with the Orchards farm dog and he and I walked together for a little bit. I started listening to an audible original about Anxiety with Mel Robbins. It helped me.

Day 7 of 470: I weigh in. I weighed in at 318. I had lost 7 lbs in 7 days. I hiked a mountain this day. It’s .6 miles up, and .6 miles down. I got a little lost on how to get back down the mountain, their trails aren’t marked as good as I think they should be. Total miles on the mountain was 1.69 miles, it took me 53 mins to complete this. I was breathing hard but I wasn’t dying to breathe. After the hike, I went for another walk as my “slow” walk. Well, I don’t walk slow. It’s uncomfortable to walk slow. Uncomfortable as in, my hips hurt. I walked 1.76 miles in 26 minutes. In total I walked 3.45 miles. I felt so good after the walks were done.

Day 8 of 470: I tried to have a full on “Rest day” but it didn’t work. I walked 1.2 miles in 27 mins. I started to make a new goal. Between Sunday and Saturday my watch will close a heart for activity, calories burned and moving hourly. I decided that my goals for each week is close all 7 hearts. I’ve been having trouble sleeping even though I am getting in a lot of activities. 

Day 9 of 470: I wanted to rest my limbs, so I did three 15 minute YouTube videos for stretching different parts of my body and muscles. I had one more heart to close this week!

Day 10 of 470: YAY! I completed my first week of hearts! I was so proud of myself. On this day, I went for a 2 mile walk with my family. After all this, I did the math of the following: Sunday – Saturday: 18.9 Miles, 451 Minutes, 6885 +/- calories burned, 6 YouTube videos, Ate a salad for lunch everyday. I ate two meals and 2 snacks everyday.

7 days of FULL Hearts!

Day 11 of 470: My family came to visit and we went for a morning hike at the mountain and a walk/run at the orchard while others picked blueberries. I hiked 1.48 in 47 minutes. 2.12 miles at the orchard, giving a total of 3.6 miles! 

Today as I am writing this all is Day 12 of 470. After I finished lunch and after I publish this I will go for a hike. It was supposed to rain today but it’s now not in the forecast. So I’m going to walk at the Orchard and will do my best at hitting 3 miles today! (Picture at the Top of the blog is the top of the mountain.)

I am more excited about this new goal of that 470 day mark than thinking of what I will look like, or what my fears are and how will I get past them. I’m just going to keep going until I get there. I got this! I won’t be updating this until I have another 12 days of

One of The Many Favorite Recipes!

While I was baking, I was writing this recipe in my head. I was writing like someone who might no be able to afford all the little bowls and the Kitchenaid mixer that I use. I want you -who is reading this that if you don’t have the Kitchenaid mixer of you only have one bowl to make the recipe that is okay. I’ve made plenty of recipes without a Kitchenaid mixer, without a hand mixer, sometimes without certain ingredients, and thank goodness for google and people who have tried different ways to bake a cake without using eggs and oil. If you didn’t know, you could use mayonnaise to bake with. It sounds weird, yes but it works.

This blog is about my mom really; of course, I am going to talk about the baking of a Carrot Cake and the recipe I have used for years and the little things I do differently than other ways of baking this cake but I baked this cake recently because of my mom. My mom loves Carrot Cake. About 5 years ago for my sweethearts birthday party that (this is another blog coming soon). I baked a carrot cake for him, and my mom loved it. Since then, when we talk about the cake, she says she loves this type of cake that I bake. I love baking cookies, cake, cupcakes, Christmas cookies, new recipes. But this cake is a favorite of my sweethearts and my mom. It was recently my mom’s birthday, and I knew that she’d enjoy having this cake for her birthday. I made it with all the extra things that she loves, coconut, raisins, walnuts, pineapple, and applesauce. The day I was heading up to see her, I called and asked her where she’d like to get her cake. She had no idea until I brought it into the house and surprised her with it. Since that day, she’s had the cake for breakfast. It has dairy, protein, veggies, carbs… completely healthy. (haha) Once the cake was finished I put MA on the cake with left over walnuts for well of course, my Ma.

Ignore the coffee maker- two eggs were already in the bowl.

Like I mentioned before I didn’t have all of the expensive tools to bake before. What I could find to bake with was what I used. So if you don’t have the KitchenAid mixer, that’s okay. Using a fork or a whisk or even a spoon is useful. Just follow along with this recipe wherever it says optional it is. I haven’t baked this cake in the form of being gluten-free.

The first steps I always do before starting the recipe is getting all of the ingredients out so I can have them nearby, and once done with them, I put them away. Less cleaning up to do!

Egg, sugar, brown sugar and vanilla

Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

Cake

Dry Ingredients in the Bowl/Mixer:

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 ½ tsp ground cinnamon

½ tsp ground ginger (optional)

¼ tsp ground nutmeg (optional)

½ tsp salt

Whisk these together. If you don’t have an additional bowl, you can add these in after your wet ingredients are mixed. Just add the dry in one at a time to get them all incorporated.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees

Wet Ingredients in the Bowl/Mixer:

¾ cups vegetable/canola oil

4 LG eggs

1 ½ cups brown sugar

½ cup granulated brown sugar

Mix these until fully incorporated, once done.

Add:

½ cup of applesauce (optional)

½ cup of crushed pineapple; drained (optional)

½ cup of shredded coconut (optional)

½ cup of raisins (optional)

½ cup of crushed walnuts (optional)

3 ½ cups of shredded carrots (about 4 large carrots, washed, and peeled)

1 tsp vanilla extract

Add the DRY mix to the wet mixture and make sure you FULLY mix it. There should not be any clumps, and the batter will be runnier than brownie batter consistency.

*Note* If you add any of the optional ingredients you will most likely need a bigger pan for baking the cake. I used a 9×13 pan.

Once your batter is mixed, you will want to pour it into the pan, making sure you don’t overfill it.

Place your pan into the oven and allow it to bake for 35-40 mins. Every oven cooks differently. I checked the cake at 30 mins and then let it to continue cooking it for another 10 mins. Always check with toothpicks all around the cake, sides, middle. Make sure your cake is fully cooked. Carrots, pineapples, applesauce have a lot of moisture it’s really difficult to dry this type of cake out. Make sure you check the cake if you didn’t add in the applesauce or crushed pineapples.

Everything for the cake mixed in the bowl

Cream Cheese Frosting

Have your cream cheese sitting out on the counter so it is soft and easier to mix. You can add butter if you want cream cheese buttercream frosting, but I do not because I don’t think it’s needed. You’ll want an electric hand mixer to get the right consistency. I have never made it without an electric hand mixer but I am sure it is possible.

Frosting Ingriednets

8 oz cream cheese package

1-2 cups of powdered sugar

Spash or two of Half & Half

1 tsp vanilla extract

Put the cream cheese and vanilla extract in the bowl and whisk it for a few minutes on medium speed until it looks creamy, then take 1 cup of powdered sugar, I used a sifter to help get clumps out, if you don’t have that it’s okay you can whisk them out, or dump it in the bowl mix on low so that you don’t get it all over your kitchen, first and then speed it up. Once that has been mixing until there are no clumps- taste it for the sweetness. I added 1.5 cups of powdered sugar so it still tasted like cream cheese, if it was too thick I would add a little milk or half & half. Use a spatula or something to scrape the sides of the bowl so you can keep it all incorporated.

Frosting ingredients and the start of sifting

Once the frosting is done you can add it to your cake (as long as the cake is completely cooled- if you add it too soon the frosting will melt. I have done this a time or two, I get too excited.

I hope you enjoyed this recipe, I sure did when I made it, and taking my own pictures. They aren’t professional pictures because I am not professional baker but this is my recipe I use for each Carrot Cake and Cream Cheese Frosting.

MA in walnut form and sprinkled shredded coconut on top. 🙂

These are the items I use to bake this cake and many more recipes! 

Kitchenaid Mixer Classic – It’s affordable and works with all attachments.

Kitchenaid Mixer Flex Edge Beater – most Kitchenaid mixers come with a beater, but I prefer this one cause it will scrape the bowl while mixing.

Kitchenaid Mixer Whisk – if you don’t have one for your mixer

Measuring Cups and Spoons– I got these because I loved the colors. Red, White and Blue

Electric Hand Mixer– This is the exact one I have, but in black.

Hand Mixer– Not electric, I did use this in my beginning stages of baking

Glass baking pans– I love glass pans, probably cause I know they get clean because you can see it through glass-haha

The first cut into the cake, the day before my Ma’s birthday

Comment below your favorite baking recipes! I’m open to trying new recipes!

I Fail at This One Thing More Than Anything Else in My Life

If you’ve read my other blogs, you’ll know that I am a unique person. I am not the same as others. I have a different mindset. What you might not know is that I am fat. Like fat, fat. Like obese fat. I have been trying to lose weight for a very long time. I’ve tried so many different kinds of “diets” or lose weight in different ways. I got stuck on, I had a routine, and then I ruined it. I self-sabotage. You’d think that knowing that I self-sabotage every time that I’d try not to do that. I’m just not sure how I even do it.

Nobody I know talks about the fears about losing weight. I will talk about mine and then what I have tried in the past and what I am starting this week as I put out this blog to follow my progress. I will most likely update every two weeks so it doesn’t end up being super short each week. As you probably know by now, I don’t write short blogs. Oh boy, this is real. I have these fears. I will have too much skin leftover that either I have to spend a lot of money to get rid of the skin that will be super loose and gross. I am afraid I will hate the way I look when I lose weight. I am worried my husband will find me disgusting and unattractive once I lose the weight. I’m afraid I will lose it all and gain it all back. I’m scared of disappointing myself in the end, which is all I seem to do. These are my fears. They are real—my biggest worries.I have tried so many different things and as someone who is tall for women and big and wide, I’ve tried things that even Google reviews tell you not to try, but I did.

I tried the Atkins diet in high school. I remember giving up bread, carbs, candy, certain vegetables, and then slowly adding them back in. I did lose weight but I gained it all back. I also tried eating vegetarian and giving up dairy. I failed, I love cheese and I really enjoy bacon, chicken, and steak—such a hard thing to give up, seriously. I already have had food aversions in my earlier years, and I had an undiagnosed eating disorder and just giving up food to eventually be able to eat once again, and it sucked it ruined a lot of time spent. I started the Paleo way of eating. I gave up every aisle in the store. If it wasn’t veggies, fruit, meat, seafood, dairy, poultry, I couldn’t eat it. This meant when I walked into my Hannafords or Price Chopper.

I would get my veggies, fruit, meat, seafood, eggs, cheese, and leave the store. I’d ignore the beer, juices, and everything in between. I walked 30 mins a day, I did planks, I rode an indoor bike, I slept good, I ate well every meal. I told everyone what I could and couldn’t eat. I stayed on track, wrote in my journal, started to run up hills, downhills, and I could do a push-up. I was mentally and physically getting stronger. I felt so good, and I had lost 60 lbs in about five months. And then I had a bad day, and I had terrible days after that and continuing to spiral and then I gave up. I ate a freakin oreo, and to this day, I don’t really eat Oreos because it screwed me up mentally; even though it was my mistake, it one cheat, and I let it ruin the rest of the weight I had lost.

Later down the road, I just gave up; if I couldn’t do it, then it wasn’t worth it. I was later on diagnosed with an eating disorder of Bulimia. I eventually started Paleo again and I did better this time. I had a friend who did it with me, which made it easier to stay on track. I stayed on track with eating, eating better. I went to the gym at night after working 8-hour shifts and then would try to get more exercise in at night before bed. I slept so well back then. I was losing weight. I started at 310, and I wanted to get down to 200 pounds to start and then continue my goal. I eventually got down to 220 and I lost weight, and then I sabotaged myself again. After my friend left to go back to her state I kept on trying to keep the weight off. When I met the love of my life I had weighted 201 pounds and I felt so amazing. I actually felt sexy which showed all the confidence that I had throughout our relationship. Then life started to get hard and complicated, and I began to sabotage myself again, again, and again… It was bad. I began to dislike my body again and felt unsexy, unattractive, fugly.

This year 2020, I started again. I weighed in at 325.5. My husband went off to travel for work before the pandemic began, and I decided that I would walk every day no matter what the weather was. I walked in the sun, the rain, the snow, the sleet, freezing weather in the morning, warmth in the afternoon, the darkness. I eventually would eat, sleep, walk, eat, sleep, walk, and loved it. I ate what I wanted when I wanted. I ate smaller portions, and I ate more veggies, rice, and meat for lunch and dinner. Every meal was delicious and enjoyable, every snack was delicious, and I drank lots and lots of water. Instead of food making me stop losing weight, it became a thing of being sick in general. I stopped walking because I didn’t have the energy. I got ill and lost 25 pounds. Once I lost a lot of weight in a very unhealthy way, I started to eat again, and I gained it all back plus the weight I lost before I got sick.

This time around, I have measured parts of my body, weighed myself, and just made better choices. This is the start of my first week; like I said I will update every two weeks. I want to share my life in general but also because there are bigger women out there that might feel like you can’t do it, you can’t lose the weight because someone said you can’t. BUT you can! I keep trying, and this time I won’t give up, I can’t self-sabotage because I am writing about it here, I am keeping a journal, I have written a big sign in the bedroom, bathroom, on my fridge, and on my list showing that I can do this, I will do this. I will not continue to be unhealthy and live in fear of something that might not actually affect me. Here we go.

August 31st, 2020

Weight: 319.4lbs

Neck: 19in

Upper Chest: 52.5in

Lower Chest: 52in

Above belly button: 58.5in

Below belly button: 58in

Hips: 50.5in

R Thigh: 27in

L Thigh: 27in

R Calf: 19.5in

L Calf: 19.5in

R upper arm: 14.5

L upper arm: 14.5

R forearm: 11.5

L forearm: 11.5

R ankle: 10.5

L ankle: 10.5

Foot Size: 9.5 men, 11.5W Women

Top Size: 3x-4x

Dress Size 4x

Bottoms: 22W-24W

My Ultimate Secrets Revealed; I’m A Survivor

Hello everyone. It’s been a couple of weeks since I put a new blog out. Honestly, I had a few bad weeks, and being honest at the moment while I put out a tough subject scared me of judgment. Even though I write blogs to show who I am and allow others to know that if you feel this way, you are not alone. I had an anxiety attack late at night, and I wrote through it. It was too real to fast,, and I wasn’t ready to publish it. I did anyway, but then about 30 mins later, I deleted it.

I want to give a little insert— This blog is filled with triggers; if you have been through trauma, rape, verbal abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, anxiety, anxiety attacks, and depression, this may not be good for you. If you do need help with any of these, it’s essential to talk to someone. It’s okay to talk about what happened to you when you are ready. It’s okay to be open. It’s okay to say it out loud, to cry about, to scream. It’s okay not to talk about it too. I’ve been there. I can’t say that talking about any type of trauma will help you move past it, or make it go away. But you will survive. You are a survivor. If you do want or think you need to talk to someone, I’d recommend using Talkspace. They have licensed therapists that help with a wide range of issues, and you can do it from the safety of your phone/tablet/computer.

I tell myself every day that I am a survivor. I have too. One reason for that is because they didn’t define me. If you’ve read my other blogs, you will find that I am a kind and quiet person. I still am. They took something from me that I will never get back. They hurt me, they put me through something, and I will never get it back. I will always keep the part of me they didn’t take; they didn’t take my kindness, my quietness, my love, my laughter, my good days, and, most importantly, my LIFE.

I had two parts of my life that have been used against me when others are mad. Let me tell you, you who might have gone through something, or someone who doesn’t understand what I am writing about but should keep these words in the back of your head. If someone you love, like, care about has opened up to you about their trauma, whatever the trauma might have been or is. Remember, whatever you say now isn’t going to change what happened to them. They don’t need to hear that they didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves to be abused or to be raped. Them opening up to you is a HUGE milestone that they’ve worked through. Be proud of them to share this part of their life with you. Please, Do Not Use their trauma as a way to get back at them. Don’t take something that hurt them for the rest of their life, and use it to gain something from it. If that’s your intention when they start to tell you about their trauma, you need to be honest and show them that you care, but you don’t feel comfortable knowing. I am saying all of this because my trauma has been used against me. I’ve had people tell me that I dressed a certain way, and that’s why I was raped. I’ve been told that if I had just gotten out early in the relationship, I wouldn’t have been abused. If I knew he was mean, I should have moved on, If I just spoke up, then it would have been fixed from the start, and someone could have helped me. I’ve been told that it’s been a long time and I should be over it. Lastly, I’ve been told that I made it up. These people who have said these things to me are people I was comfortable sharing a part of my life with that I will never get back, a part of life I wish I could erase because it’s painful. I wish I didn’t get raped. I wish I never met that guy. I wish I could go back to fix that part of me. But I can’t. Can’t go back in time. I can only go forward. I can take what happened to me and make my life for the better. This is the last paragraph before it gets dicey with my trauma. If you’re triggered easily, the next sections aren’t for you.

I didn’t talk about being raped once it happened. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t know how to talk about it. I also didn’t know what rape was until I looked up on Google. The first person I told was my therapist at the time, and I made her swear not to tell my parents. She didn’t. I never reported it to anyone. I didn’t talk about it until I was in my early 20’s. There was a show on tv, and something was said by someone who was also watching tv. What they said triggered me. They said, “If she didn’t wear that, it wouldn’t happen.” This statement is far from the truth. I was going fishing at one of my favorite spots to fish. I was wearing a t-shirt and capris’ with sneakers. Nothing about my outfit was “trashy,” “provocative,” “slutty”, or “asking for it.” This guy showed up with fishing gear as well. He said hi to me and asked how the fishing was going. I told him it was “meh.” There was nobody else around. It happened so quick, and he was behind me, he wrestled me to the ground and sat on top of me and touched me. He said if I moved I’d be fish food. I didn’t move. I laid still. He finished, grabbed his fishing gear, and left. I just stayed there until he left. I packed up my fishing gear and went home and showered. I cried a lot initially. I eventually moved on from it. I’m not saying I got over it, or I act like it didn’t happen. I never went back to that fishing spot ever again. I don’t remember his face, his voice, his tone, his vehicle, the license plate, what he was wearing. Even if I did tell someone after it happened, I’d be no help. I had no idea who this person was. After years of silence, I finally spoke out about it. I told my mom first. I didn’t worry about how she’d feel once I told her. She didn’t cry, which helped me talk it out.

When the #metoo started a couple of years ago, I was hit with emotion. I didn’t know how to sort it out. I was going into my local co-op store and there was a poster with over one hundred “#metoo,”  and I walked passed it at first. I couldn’t concentrate in the store. I kept thinking about that poster. I started to have a flashback. On the way out of the store, a lady, maybe around 60 or above, stopped and wrote on the poster. She walked away, but what she wrote broke me with tears. She wrote, “50 years until today nobody has known #metoo” I held my tears back, and I stopped to write it. My guy kept walking, but he stopped once he noticed I stopped walking with him. I took a deep breath, picked up the sharpie, and wrote, “#metoo, I am a survivor.” A lady behind me put her hand on my shoulder and asked for a sharpie. She began to write, “#metoo.” The lady didn’t know me. She asked if she could hug me. We did.  I hugged a stranger who was also a survivor. -I’m not saying all this with a dry eye right now. I am tearing up. I am a survivor, but my heart hurts because others were hurt by someone and kept it in for years. I went back to the co-op and looked at the poster board one last time, and it was filled with #metoo. I mean filled, you couldn’t find space to write anymore. On the back was filled too. The bravery to speak out about being raped is HUGE. I am a survivor. I can only hope that this will help me as well as you. Don’t allow people to shut you down when something traumatic happens to you. You have a voice, so speak it, use your words in sound or on paper and tell someone. If you want to email me. I have my email on my “Contact” page. Don’t hesitate to email me. I’m here for you. I’m a good listener.

This next paragraph is about verbal, physical, and mental abuse. If you are still here after that last paragraph, thank you. But also this is the next paragraph can trigger you. Please use caution for your emotions. This isn’t going to be comfortable reading, it’s certainly not easy to write, no dry eyes here. If you need immediate help text “Home” to 741741, it’s Crisis Text Line. I’ve used them a lot when I was in a crisis.

Back in late 2012, I met a guy off a dating app. Crazy, right, a dating app. But I thought I could find a nice guy there. He seemed kind, happy, hard-working, friendly, and he asked me on a date. He was a couple of hours from where I was living and thought that I’d have no problem making a date. A couple of weeks later, I met him. He was just as lovely as he was in the texts, over the phone. We started to date after a month of talking. He was busy working, or so I thought. He had a lot of friends, or so I thought. He wanted to meet my parents and friends, so I made it happen. My parents were okay with him; my siblings didn’t seem to like him, I figured that out later on. My friends thought he was cool; they didn’t get any bad vibes from him.

In early 2013 we were doing good until he said he lost his job, his home, and needed help. I tried to help him find jobs. He wanted new clothing to look good at these interviews so I spent money I thought I’d get back but never did. The relationship went through the honeymoon phase. At the end of the phase, he was an asshole. Looking back at it, I’m not sure why I stayed with him. But that’s not the point. I thought he was just having a hard time because he was jobless, homeless, and ultimately having a hard time. Eventually, we moved into a place together, and he had finally got a job. Little things started to arise, and he suddenly didn’t have a job, he needed money, he needed a car, he didn’t have this or that. I tried helping him. The one time I didn’t help him was when it got bad. I was scared. I was numb, just like when I was raped. He started telling me that I was a horrible person, nobody loved me, everyone hated me, people were just nice to my face, I was fat, I was ugly, I was going to make ugly kids, I was going to be alone forever. He started to tell me every day that I was something terrible.

Every day like clockwork, I was another harsh name. I’m talking like the B-word, S-word, C-word, and I thought if I did nice things for him, he’d leave me be. He started to hit me when the house was dirty, he’d choke me until I’d turn white and then let me go and say if I weren’t such a slob, he wouldn’t have to do those things to me. I cleaned every day; the dishes were done every day; the bathroom was cleaned every day; the laundry was done. One night I remember he said he needed to borrow my car and he’d be back in an hour. He didn’t come back for three days. I missed my shifts at work because I didn’t have a car. He showed up and was drunk that night, he pushed me on the bed and raped me. I kept saying no. He called me names, he hurt me, he punched me in the stomach this time, he said I wasn’t loved, nobody would save me.  He just told me if I didn’t want to die, I’d do what he said.

He eventually sold anything I had that was easy to sell. Every week he’d hold me down and rape me. One night he took my car and came back with lobster and fancy side dishes. I thought I was being appreciative, but according to him I was a “fat and ugly low life B-word.” He locked me in the bathroom, took my car, wallet, and left for a week, came back once to give me a box of crackers. I had an emergency phone with me in the bathroom that he didn’t know about. Every day my dad would call and talk to me. I’d tell him I was busy cleaning the bathroom. The day the guy came back I heard him come in. He said the person he had with him to wait in the room, and he’d be right in. I made up a lie that I had to cover for a girl at work since I had been on vacation. (Yes, I was on vacation for a week in a bathroom with a box of crackers.) He allowed me to leave, I went into my bedroom to grab stuff, and there was a girl butt naked on my bed. I grabbed my things, and I left. I checked my bank account once I left, I had no money. I used my actual cell and called my mom and said I needed help. I didn’t have to go to work. I started to feel my chest get tight, and I struggled to breathe. I called 911 and said I was having a heart attack. The ambulance was instructed to show up with their lights off so that the guy wouldn’t see the lights and my car. I left my car in the back of a store. I told them I had no money, a phone that was dying, and I needed help.

Once I got to the hospital, they said I didn’t have a heart attack. They did a physical on me though, I had 23 bruises that were fresh to ones that were yellowing and old, I was dehydrated, and I needed to eat. They asked if I was abused, I said yes. They asked if I was raped, I said yes. They asked me several different questions and I said yes to all of them. I wanted my mom so much. I missed my family, and I missed my friends. Eventually, my mom showed up, and she helped me bring me to my car and to the apartment, I packed up most of my stuff. He was trying to be all kind and act like this was okay. I called the landlords and let them know that I didn’t have the rent because the guy stole all my money. I told them I was so sorry. I would try and pay them back as soon as I could. I was told not to worry about it.

He caused so much heartache, so much pain physically and mentally. He sold all my stuff for him to have money for who knows what. I eventually moved jobs again and found a better place to stay and work. He found me. He broke into my car and stole my checking book and wrote himself checks and forged my signature. He had stolen over six thousand dollars from me. I had to get a restraining order because the last time he was in my car, he hit me over the head with a tool of some sort and I got injured severely. He stole my money again out of my account. Finally, the restraining order was given to me, the next time he called my work, I told him that everything would be okay and I would come to see him after I got out of work so we could talk, this was a trap. He gave me his address and I gave it to the cops so that he could be picked up for assault and a bunch of other reasons. He was picked up and processed. I spent days in court, and I spent time going to groups about how to speak about this. I didn’t want to be seen as a victim. I didn’t want to be around anyone. He showed up in court cause he was in jail custody. He grinned at me, and the judge snapped at him to not look in my direction. I spoke up about what he did to me with the judge beforehand and didn’t want to show my face during court while he got his sentence.

After he went to jail and I was able to get my career back on track, I was able to find a home closer to my job so that I could work on my life and recovery. I got tired of people looking at me like I was a victim. I wanted to just look like and be like the person before I went through 2013. That was not as easy as it seemed. It’s been seven years and I can’t say that I am the same person I was in 2012. I know I grew up, I know that I survived and I know that I became stronger because I had to. I still am cautious when I go to gas stations or when I see a lot of guys around the opening of the stores. Sometimes I’m just nervous and can get past it; other times, I will leave and go back at a different time. I’m not perfect when it comes to recovery and I won’t get over all of this that I’ve gone through. I won’t move on and snap my fingers, and all of the pain goes away. I still get nightmares of him putting a knife to my neck, threatening me, punching me, raping me. I have vivid nightmares. I won’t sleep once I wake up. I have to tell myself that I am safe, that I am okay, I am a survivor, I am strong. I don’t tell anyone usually because it’s very vivid, it’s a lot of tell someone how I feel when those nightmares happen. It’s a lot to speak of. I can’t allow people to hurt me because of what I’ve been through and I can’t allow others to feel bad for me. I don’t want that. I don’t want others to see me differently, either. I don’t want people to know my past, and it is a reason they treat me differently or even use it against me like I have mentioned it’s already happened.

This is apart of my story, but it’s not the end of my story. I’m a fighter. I am enough.

Starting My Life After High School

If you read my second blog, you’d know I graduated high school. You’d also know that each blog is a long read. Enjoy!

Most of the time, once you graduate high school, you take the summer and hang with friends, get a job, get ready to leave home for college. Or maybe you didn’t go to college and just found a job you were passionate about doing and started it off. I did something different.

Weeks before finishing my senior year, my parents and I were trying to find an LNA (Licensed Nursing Assistant) course I could take. We found one that started two days after graduation. I wasn’t a perfect student for grades, but I won a couple of scholarships. I also won some awards from bowling tournaments. Those scholarships we’re enough to pay for this LNA course. The course was two and a half hours away from home.

I had a small graduation dinner with my family. I received one of the best graduation cards from my mom. I still have the card. I will leave the quote at the end of this blog. My dad gave me my first pepper spray and bungee cords. The pepper spray hasn’t been used in over ten years because it’s still in its package. That Sunday, I packed my bags, packed my car, and followed my mom toward southern NH. I was going to be staying with my brother while I completed the course. It wasn’t a dream to sleep in a small apartment with three other people. To sleep on an air mattress, to not have my own space or privacy. I am grateful that my brother and his two roommates let me stay with them.

Monday morning, I showed up an hour earlier than the class started. I was so nervous. The course was tremendous. There were 24 people and one teacher. I was 18 years old and a recent graduate. I wanted to do this course so badly and be good at it. I was transferred early on to a smaller class with additional students. The smaller class had seven people in it. I’m so happy I was moved. There was more one on one with the instructor. I learned so much in a short amount of time. Monday through Thursday, we were in class. I learned how to speak first. Yes, that’s a thing. I was always a shy girl. When being an LNA, you need to knock on the door and introduce yourself first. The patient won’t most likely do it first. If they do, great, but you still need to speak up. I learned to listen, to hear the patient without being ready to have the answer. To fully understand an individual, you need to listen to them, not to react to what they’ve said.

Throughout the course, I was completing tests and trials, and I was successful. I was successful, just like my grandpa told me a couple of days before he passed away my sophomore year. I was smart. I felt smart. I felt alive. I felt so good, so happy. The person I was, was able to come out. I am a kind, considerate, loving, listener, passionate, big-hearted person. This career was perfect for a person like me. During clinical, I felt alive. I was excited. I couldn’t wait to graduate and pass the test. About four months later, from the day I started the course. Four months and two days after I graduated high school, I was completing an LNA course.

About a week later, I was sitting in a room with those same classmates and taking a state test to have my license finally. I passed, of course. I passed with a 99 out of 100. I started to apply for jobs all over. That was so scary, so so so scary. It’s one thing doing clinical its another when you do the job. I applied to lots and lots of places. I got hired on the spot at a nursing home. I was on training with another LNA. The floor I was on was a rehab floor. The hall I worked on was filled with C-diff patients. I took care of people until they passed away.  I enjoyed my job. I worked the second shift, which was 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. Eventually, I moved from my brother’s apartment to my own apartment.

Sidetrack! My first apartment was small. I had 3 of the BIGGEST closets I’ll probably ever have in my entire life. I was on the second floor above a lovely Italian family. This apartment was a studio apartment. I didn’t have a kitchen. My bathroom was the size of one of my closets. I had a mini-fridge and a microwave. I rarely ate at home. I rarely eat breakfast. I didn’t ten years ago. I ate at work. The work was excellent. I overworked myself though. I worked an illegal amount of hours in a week. I eventually couldn’t work some nights. I did my job, but I was tired all the time. It was one of the first times I would have overworked myself until I was sick. But certainly not the last. When I say the illegal amount of hours, I mean there are 40 hours a week people work. I had worked 80 hours a week- that was 16-hour shifts, five days a week. I was dead. My compassion left my body. I was so tired. I was thinking back to that moment. I was scared. When you’re in an LNA course, nobody talks about burnout, or how to pace yourself. I drank so much of Monster energy drinks in a shift that I actually passed out in the hallway during a 16-hour shift.

I eventually left that job. I burnt myself out. I made good money starting as an LNA, but I couldn’t afford to be sick all the time. I appreciated all the work and help I had for my first LNA job. I held on to it, I still do. I eventually moved back home; I applied for my Vermont LNA license. I didn’t have to retest. There was a total of 5 or 6 nursing homes and a hospital. I did not get an LNA job right away. I did get a job at the local motel. I did pretty well for cleaning the hotel rooms and making hospital corners. I believe it was about two weeks later I accepted employment at a nursing home.

I stayed working in nursing homes throughout the state. The nursing home I worked at was small but was perfect for my second LNA job. I worked 2nd shift mostly and loved every minute of it. I was making acquaintances and working hard. I did my best at not overworking myself. I was especially careful about not drinking any energy drinks. A year had passed and I had gotten hurt on the job. For specific reasons, I cannot discuss this part in the blog. A big workers’ comp claim had to be started. To this day, my foot still hurts. I have limited movement to my toes and I can’t wear certain shoes.

I worked a lot more jobs after those two. If I go through each one, I could write a book. Haha. At the seven-year mark, I was burnt out. I started to struggle with going to a job and giving my all. I had to be done. I am proud of those who can continue working. LNA’s will agree with me on this. LNA’s do the majority of the work and don’t get paid enough from the care they give. There should be more support for LNA’s when they are burnt out, overworked, overwhelmed, and overall the work they do for the people they take care of.

For those 7 years of my life, I committed to making other people’s lives better. I loved most of the places I worked. I didn’t make a lot of long term friendships but I did make sure that I did my job to the best of my abilities. I am proud to be known for the work that I did, the care that I gave, and the happiness I put onto patients and families’ faces. I was the one who helped families overcome the loss they had just gone through and help them realize their family member was no longer in pain. They say as an LNA, you don’t connect with patients, and you shouldn’t have favorites. I wonder how those people did that. I loved my patients. I had favorites. I had connections. I remember those when I wrote this blog. A lot of them have passed away, they aren’t in pain. I will forever think of them and love them.

Thank you for reading this blog. Don’t forget to subscribe for weekly blogs! Like I promised, the quote I love.

Bullying Does No Good

This will be a long blog post. I really like giving warnings. I’m covering 3 schools, and their incidents.

This title is perfect for this type of blog post. Bullying Does No Good. It doesn’t. I am the survivor of bullying for years in graded school, junior high, and high school. It started in graded school for me, and I think for most cases that’s when bullying starts for others too. I’m going to write about mine and how I look back on it years later.

It started in an elementary school. I loved my teachers until a certain point I thought my school was great until 4th grade. 4th grade was when I met this girl, we should call her Lena. Lena moved into our town and our school. She didn’t know anyone. Mind you even though I loved my school and loved my teachers I struggled with friendships and I was totally shy and uncomfortable. I liked being around kids I knew of, I never stepped out of my comfort zone. When I met Lena she was sitting next to me in English class. She was nice at first. We sat at lunch together. I introduced her to people I knew for years. After a while, she started making fun of me. She’d say really mean things. Honestly, I don’t remember those things but they were mean. She didn’t stop until one day I did something she told me to do that I will never forget. I was in the bathroom after lunch and I took the lanyard I had with me every day and I held it tight against my neck, very tight.

I was put into therapy because of Lena. I hate therapy even to this day. I’d sit down and say what this girl did to me. Then we’d play games, and eventually, the appointment would be over. I couldn’t wait to go home. My first therapist made me feel uncomfortable. She was strict and rude. I eventually told my mom that this lady was mean. She was. She told me to “buck up”, which meant to me don’t have feelings. I eventually went to a different therapist. I’ve always wondered if they wanted me to say something in particular because every visit was the same result. Walk-in, talk about the day, play a game, and then eventually go home. It was a waste of time. Eventually, I moved on from Lena and didn’t feel any certain why. 5th grade came and I didn’t have the friends I once thought I did. They all were interested in having girlfriends and boyfriends. A guy who I believed was my best friend throughout graded school only hung out with me because I was always by myself. That was the only reason. To this day, I remember his birthday and I choose to send him a “Happy Birthday” message. This year he turned 28 years old. He is 21 days younger than me. I try to have a conversation with him. It doesn’t happen. I’ll stop at 30 years old maybe. OR maybe this is the last year?

5th-grade was also the year when my daycare lady passed away. I had been going to her for years, my siblings too (they’re much older than me). She had cancer and she went under the knife and never came out. It was so sad. One of my teachers in 5th grade thought it was stupid that I was going to a funeral at such a young age. My classmate Hal wanted to go to the funeral but his mom wouldn’t allow him to. That 5th-grade teacher was a math teacher. I’ve struggled with math since forever. I can add, multiply, divide, anything above that is confusing especially in 5th-grade.

 I got moved from her class upstairs to a new classroom downstairs. I only went upstairs to certain classes. I felt more comfortable in a small circle of kids. I was able to do the work in silence, ask for help, and actually, be successful in the school work and ultimately get my homework done the same day. When it was recess time, I’d go to the library and find some non-fiction. When it was lunchtime, I had the choice to sit with my “friends” or sit with my “new friends”  in the classroom downstairs. I chose my “new friends”. They didn’t force me to talk or to do anything, sometimes we’d just laugh at stupid stuff. The main teacher I had in that room was amazing, to this day I think she’s amazing. I don’t know where she is or what happened to her but she was fantastic. She helped me through 6th grade as well. I had the highest grades I had ever had in that school when I was graduating for 6th grade. I did really well working through those difficult math problems, science even though I thought it was wicked cool I wasn’t good at retaining the information. I was so excited but nervous to leave school I had known since kindergarten. I had no actual friends going into junior high. Junior high was a form of school/childhood I never want to remember.

Junior high was a completely different school. It was farther away from home, about 15 mins depending on the route you took. I was late almost every day to school. I’m not proud of being late, but I mean if they gave me a reward or plaque, I’d graciously take it. HAHA. I did laugh. I can be funny… Junior high was where this thing called a 504 meeting came to place. I have a learning disability. Teachers don’t know how to deal with those types of words or numbers because they aren’t taught about it in school. If they were, I wouldn’t be talked down too, I wouldn’t have to sit in the front of the class because they’d stare at me and talk super loud. Basically I have a hearing disability. I am not deaf, I can hear anyone whispering, talking in a normal tone, and a loud tone. I can hear. What I couldn’t do, or what my ear to my brain did was lose information out of a sentence and make it hard for me to understand what I was supposed to be doing.

The diagnosis is Auditory Processing Disorder or also known as APD. This is confusing to write, and explain. So imagine a science teacher is telling the class to go to page 51 and read silently and once done, raise your hand until everyone is done reading. I would hear this ‘Go to 5 and read silently’. I would get to pay 5 and read the contents of the book. Then once everyone was done with their hands raised, I’d raise my hand at the end. This actually happened. The teacher called on me, the last person who raised their hand. He asked me what I learned. I said I learned the contents of the book. EVERYONE laughed, even the teacher. I was embarrassed. I thought I did what I was supposed to do. But no, I didn’t process all of the information because I didn’t hear it all. It’s confusing but this problem hurt me learning and still does. I will ask multiple questions to learn something and it might be the same question four different ways because I want to make sure I get the same answer. I don’t want to bring up that topic and the person who told me all about that topic is telling me I got it all wrong. It’s embarrassing.

I had two 504 meetings that I remember were significant for how teachers treat people like me. The first one, we will call it Group A. The meetings were in the beginning, halfway, and at the end of the year, all teachers knew about it, except not all teachers showed up. I had a teacher tell the group of teachers, nurses, guidance counselors, and my parents that I forgot to tell him that there was a meeting today. He was always cocky, always rude, so I had stated that ‘it wasn’t my job to tell teachers when a meeting is’. I’m supposed to show up and listen to everyone talks about how I am failing or I’m a bad student, or I’m not listening and I need a tutor. Except when I got home, I had no problem doing the homework. I wish I had Mrs. Green to help me through the school days. The one person who always had faith in me, who also went to college to become a teacher. She became a teacher to HELP people, not treat them because they had a disability. To this day, it makes me so upset that I was treated like I was an inconvenience.

Group B of teachers wasn’t any better. I had told my mom about an incident that another kid took their phone out and recorded what the teacher was saying about me in front of the entire class. That teacher- Mr. Ass – That seems appropriate. He was a math teacher. Every day I would give out my device to help me “hear” better. This device I was told I had to use and during Group A teachers meeting nobody ever used it. It would sit on their desk while they were up at the board teaching. Mr. Ass was mouthy when using it, he was put the mic up to his mouth and tell me I was stupid. I could hear it because I was using a hearing aid. That one day he was calling me an inconvenience and stupid was the day a girl I didn’t really know was recording it on her phone. I didn’t have a phone, or I’d had done this too. That was strike one for Mr. Ass according to the principal, the second strike was throwing my device on the floor and then asking me if I heard him say “You’re stupid”. I did hear him. You don’t ignore insults even as an 8th grader. I repeated “You’re stupid” and which he sent me to detention room or as they called it “Room Zero”.

I went to that room and sat there crying. The man that was in the room was super nice. He gave me water, some cookies, and tissues. He asked what happened and I told him. He was so upset. He went to Mr. Ass’ room and talked to him. Apparently I was a liar until Tyra went to the principal and played it. Mr. Ass was in trouble. The third strike was when he told everyone in the room to laugh at me when I walked in. They laughed like instructed. Again, Tyra was recording it. She pulled me aside and said we’d go to the principal’s office together. We did. We stood up in class and left. That was strike three for Mr. Ass. The last 504 meetings came and Mr. Ass was there. He hadn’t been in school for over a week. He sat there like he was the one being picked on, and in front of my mom he told me to “Shut Up”. My mom, being the person she is, the mom she is, stood up for me. He didn’t have a job after that meeting, he was seen filling up a box with his stuff and leaving. I still don’t understand why teachers I came across were so mean. Why couldn’t they accept me? I came across mean kids like Lena and teachers like Mr. Ass and I became a bit stronger, and a bit quieter.

High School was closer to home. High school meant staying for four years and then never going back. Thank goodness. It was another world of unknowns. I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone like who I had dealt with in two previous schools. I still had my device, it was a different kind, but I still had it. All my teachers were nice in the beginning, they had all agreed to wear the mic. That didn’t happen, and it wasn’t the lack of me trying. They didn’t want to change their ways of teaching for someone like me. Freshman year was alright. I don’t really remember most of it. Probably a good thing. Sophomore year I had incidents where boys would push me down the stairs and run away, girls would ignore me because- I actually don’t know why. I can’t ask now because high school was 10 years ago. People change. I was bullied online, in classes, walking down the hall, walking home from school. I was bullied by more of the kids my age than teachers. I did have a few teachers that were inconsiderate. A lot of my sophomore year was either at hospitals for my grandpa who was ill or in a tutor session to get help with classes. We will discuss my losses in a different blog. This teacher, we will call her Ms. Old. She found out that my grandpa had passed the day before and I was just too tired to do any work. She told me to get over it. At that moment I called her the B-word and I left. I went to my safe space in the entire school. The nurse’s office. I spent my lunches there. I hung out with one of the nurses. She was so nice to me, she helped me, she talked with me, she allowed me to take time for myself. I was comfortable. I went to the nurse’s office after Ms.Old was rude and I said I wanted to go home. The nurse called my parents and they told me to walk home. I did. I just wanted my mom. I didn’t care about school. The school doesn’t discuss grief. In my junior year of high school, I lost my grandma. We will also discuss this in another blog. I started to make friends. Or so I thought. A week later I was told by these “friends” that there was a Facebook page of a group that was my face. I didn’t have a Facebook page. I was curious. I found it. I was being bullied online. Those “friends” were part of it. I don’t remember what the group was called. These people who did this were the ones who pushed me down the stairs multiple times a day every day. There were over 20k people apart of this group. People from as far as California. People who did not know me, people who could have never been in Vermont or who went to high school did this to me. The kids I went to graded school with were part of the group. They were making fun of me. How does one get past that? I did, it took years. I didn’t tell my dad at first, but then I did. I then told my mom. I wasn’t allowed to have Facebook, but I did. Just to check that page. The principal got involved and eventually, Facebook took it down, those kids got in trouble. I’m not sure how or in what ways. But I kept on with life.

My senior year was my favorite year. I was able to pick my classes, and we finally had health careers to learn more about nursing and other careers to pick from. I loved nursing, designing in the yearbook, and having half the day to do nothing. I struggled with kids and some teachers. I had one last 504 meetings, and like the first one teachers stopped showing up. Those teachers didn’t care. I graduated the day after my 18th birthday.

This was my last year of school. I had no friends, I didn’t have a good time in school. When I struggled it was ignored or laughed at. I felt like my school life wasn’t normal. Not like in the movies. I know, I know, nothing is like the movies. Even when I put myself out there with new people I was ignored.

I know this was long if you made it this far. Thank you. Seriously, Thank you for staying. Thank you for reading. I started blogging because I needed to talk it out. I needed to explain my side. If you had a crummy grade K-12 experience, you are not alone. I’m sorry you went through the bullying. Nobody deserves it. The people who do start it, something is wrong with them. The people who stand by and watch it happen, they are just as bad as the bullies. I probably shouldn’t message that kid from the past. He was one of the people who stood by and watched me get bullied. I am the person I am today because of these experiences. I can’t change my past. I can and have had to change my future and perspective on people. I don’t trust people.

See you in the next blog! 🙂

Hello I’m Kate

I’m FINALLY starting my blog today on July 13th, 2020. I’ve been wanting to have a blog for the past 10 years. I didn’t know how to start. I’m so glad I’m here.

You’re probably wondering who I am and why I’m creating a website with my blogs. As you know my name is Kate. I didn’t always go by Kate. I also went by Katie until I turned 27 years old and I didn’t want to be the version of a 5-year-old. Thankfully being called Kate has made me feel more like the adult I really am.

A little about me. I grew up in a small town in northern Vermont really close to the Canadian Border. I went to a few small schools starting with Elementary, Junior High, and High School. I will talk about how those years transformed me into the person I am today. I’m engaged to a wonderful man whom I will never marry because we are just as happy being together than getting a silly paper that tells the IRS that we are married. I’ve been through life, not as bad as some and not as great as others. I’ve struggled with learning disabilities, rude teachers, mean classmates, bullies in real life – adult life. I’ve also been through bad relationships. I’ve always been an open book and I want to share it. I believe there is someone out there in this world of billions of people who will have had gone through things and feel like they are alone. Well, you’re not.

To help you get started, here are a few questions I asked myself before I started today:

  • Why am I blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
  • What topics do I want to write about?
  • Who would want to read about my life?

So first, Why am I blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal or keeping it to myself? Well, because I think what I have experienced a few certain topics that the world discusses these days but does nothing about and also because when I have gone through something I always wonder “why me” but also the biggest thing is someone else like you could be reading these blogs and they could align with what you went through. Also, I never wrote in a journal because of fear someone would read it.

Secondly, What topics do I want to write about? I want to write about my lifestyle which includes: Bullies(names changed), learning disability and how I cope to this day, cooking -my favorite recipes, baking- my favorite recipes, weight-loss journey(s), good relationship,/bad relationships,  LNA (Licensed Nursing Assistant) career, Friendships, Trauma, and MUCH more!

Third, Who would want to read about my life? You know, I don’t find myself to be a very fun and interesting person. I think I can be fun, I like to do fun things. I also wonder why or who would read my blogs. I’m not sure. I also constantly call myself weird on a daily basis. I don’t know what normal is, I enjoy my life so I must have an interesting life. Maybe someone who is weird like me or maybe someone who finds my life interesting will keep coming back? Will you? I’ll never stop having topics to talk about.

I’m ready to start making weekly blogs. This week that I start, I will have two blogs. I never thought I’d ever get to this spot. I have that impostor syndrome who has the name “Brenda” (Please don’t allow this to offend you if your name is Brenda.) I came across someone named Brenda and she told me I’d fail, hence the name. Well, my “Brenda” told me I’d never get here, I’d never make the first initial blog.  See you soon.

-Kate