Repeating history

When I was young the best times I remember having with my mother was after she and my stepdad had, had an argument. We would leave and go shopping, to the library, or fishing. Many years later and I’m sitting at the park watching my kids play while I sit here seething pissed and repeating history.

It really shouldn’t surprise me that for my birthday weekend my partner and I are at odds. It seems to be a pattern. But I had hoped that things would be different this year. Instead he is sitting at the bar with his brother-in-law and after a snippy conversation I don’t want to be home. So I packed up the kids who couldn’t legally be home alone and started driving. I wanted to text him and tell him off but decided to tell him to take his time because we wouldn’t be home.

Maybe that’s what my mother was trying to do way back when, to not engage in the anger. It didn’t work then, why do I think it will work now? I didn’t realize until I sat down that I was repeating the process. I’m wondering which is healthier, stepping away to not scream or speaking my mind?

I don’t know. Either way I’m not going home until I’m less pissed off, less disappointed, and less let down.

All my love,
Izzy

Worth

“Low self-esteem is like driving through life with your hand-break on.”
– Maxwell Maltz

From my earliest memories I have viewed myself as “less than”. Less than worthy of love. Less beautiful. Less meaningful. Less important. The list goes on and on. I think that more often than not it had to do with my childhood circumstances and family unit (or lack thereof) affecting my self-image and worth. Over the years it affected how I viewed myself, the value I placed on my importance in the world, and the risky behaviors I got involved in. This is not to say that I didn’t have a choice in the decisions I was making and the things I was doing. I am just saying that when a girl grows up fatherless, with a loveless upbringing, and abuse on many levels it can take its toll mentally and otherwise.

Lately I have been battling with some demons and boy are they fucking dark. As some of you may know I had a substance abuse issue at a young age, was anorexic, and had an ugly battle with abusing OTC diet pills. I have been clean for about 10 years and only had a minor setback with my eating disorder during the unraveling of my last relationship. The thing that has changed over the last 6+ years is that I am part of a family unit, I have a supportive partner, and I have a lot of people who genuinely need me. But none of these things have changed my outlook on my worth as a person.

Ever since my diagnosis with IBS 3 years ago I have been packing on the weight, at my worst I was 210 pounds and now I am averaging the low to mid 190’s on a good day. I have struggled with my weight for awhile now. There have been a few times when I have been at my local Wal-mart walking up and down the dieting aisle trying to find something that will melt the fat away. For those of you who think it is as easy as changing my eating habits and getting more active, you are clueless. I have tried counting calories with increased activity. I have tried upping my water intake. I have eliminated pop and coffee. I have tried.

There have been a few times when I have gone through our medicine cabinet and catch myself looking at my kids ADHD medication. It’s all old medicine that is leftover from a dosage change that I hold onto in case they run out of one or we misplace a bottle while visiting grandma. Sometimes I grab the bottle and shake it around, imagining a thinner self. Then the daydream ends and all the shame and disappointment begins flooding my mind and I set the bottle down. I think about how long would I be able to keep up the facade, about having to tell my partner what I did, and about how trust would be broken forever. I don’t think it is something he could forgive me for…let alone me trying to forgive myself.

This is not only the life of an addict but the life of someone who is so desperate to “be beautiful”. I wear the same clothes every week because I don’t want to go out and try on more because I will breakdown in the dressing room, again. I do not want to leave the lights on during sex because my pouch hangs while I am performing oral and who the hell wants to see that? I roll my eyes when he compliments my hips/thighs/ass because really I can’t imagine anyone being attracted to someone my size.

In my head I know I am wrong for putting myself down but it does not change how I feel or view myself. The worst part is feeling like I have no control over changing this. I don’t want to have thick thighs. I don’t want to have a pouch that needs hiding. I don’t want to have round cheeks. I want to be thin and beautiful. I want to go shopping for cute clothes that accentuate my hips and waist. But how can I do that when the traditional methods are fruitless? When life is too complicated to hire a trainer to push me until I puke? When there isn’t a pill to melt these 50 pounds that just won’t fucking go away?

I know my worth does not decrease as the scale goes up but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t affect how hard the battle is when mind and body do not match up. This topic is especially important to me given that I have 6 weeks before my partner and I say, “I do”. How can I be a good wife when I loathe everything I am on the outside?

I seek solace in the simple things for now because at the moment I cannot wrap my head around everything else.

With love,

Izzy

Orlando

 

Here we are 36 hours after one of the most horrific mass shootings in American history. The amount of information flooding the internet is incomprehensible and the grief is felt far and wide the world over. The shock has yet to subside and the anger is slowly coming to a boil. The political rhetoric is thrusting people even further apart and the true issue is being neatly swept under the rug. This was a well thought out act of hatred and he was given everything he needed to carry it out without anyone batting an eyelash.

When the story broke Sunday morning, every channel and news outlet began drawing our attention away from the fact that this was a hate crime and into the throes of “radical Muslim terrorism”. While I do agree that this horrific was act committed by someone whose ideas were in line with members of ISIS there is no concrete evidence to support that he was in fact radicalized. This person was born and raised on American soil, he went to American schools, and he worked an American job. The fact that he was Muslim has no real bearing upon this tragedy. Actually, the only thing it says is that he was raised with a strong moral compass yet somehow he was influenced by the overall hatred that is brewing in our country.

For decades the LGBT community has been at risk and under-protected against crimes of hate and bigotry. In my opinion, the LGBT community is the least protected of any group of people on American soil…well, except American-Muslims. Why is this? Why is it when a clear act of hate is committed the authorities and news outlets spin it to seem like something else? Why is it that the WASP’s of America have the audacity to say they are working for the people when in fact they are standing there doing nothing to protect their constituents? Why is it when these mass shootings happen every right-wing republican talks about how things would have been better if everyone had been armed?

I am utterly disgusted and appalled at how this heartbreaking tragedy is being spun in such a way that it is the victims faults for being gay. It is the victims faults for being at the nightclub. It is the victims faults for not being armed. These people lost their lives. Their families lost sons and daughters. Their partners lost soulmates. The world has lost 49 amazing human beings.

My heart goes out to the families and loved ones of those who lost their lives, to those who have survived this harrowing ordeal, and to the team of investigators, officers, and first responders who are still in the midst of all the carnage that has occurred. Thank you to all those who are able to look at this situation with an open heart and mind.

It is going to take a long time for the impact this has made to become less vivid. As a bisexual woman I feel less safe being out and proud. I wanted to share in our PRIDE festival this year with our children but after the events over the last 36 hours I will instead talk to my children about tolerance, acceptance, and unconditional love for their fellow “man”. This should be a time of dramatic change in the LGBT community and for gun control laws, instead I fear that during this election year it will be used to further divide the people and inhibit positive progress and change.

Izzy

Listening

I close my eyes and listen

The fan on blast

Birds in back taking a bath

The blood pumping in my heart

Speeding thoughts flying by

I try to tune into the sounds

But inside I am writhing

Worry is taking over

Panic gripping me

Happiness slipping away

I try to grab it but it slips

And I trip

Flat on my face I am lying

Crying myself to sleep

Banging my hands on the clean sheets

Hopeless in my wanting

Needing more than what is able to be had

Losing myself in all this chaos

Wishing she would find me

Whoever she is

Izzy

Your post online

You standing there,

with beer in hand,

and all I feel is love.

Your hat turned back,

your ink on display,

and I fall all over myself.

Your blue tank fitted,

your long shorts loose,

and my heart thumps painfully.

Your eyes hidden behind those sunglasses,

smile half-cocked,

and all I can do is breathe deeply.

The sun so bright,

clouds light and fluffy,

and I can only wish I was with you.

Izzy

Her

I miss you.

I miss your body wrapped around mine.

I miss how a simple look would make you smile.

I miss how you brought out the best in me.

I miss you.

I miss how you were my equal.

I miss how deeply you loved my son.

I miss your face.

I miss your love.

I miss you.

I miss hearing your voice in the morning.

I miss your ragged breath as we made love.

I miss your arms around me while cooking dinner.

I miss our long talks.

I miss you.

I miss your soft lips on mine.

I miss making you sweat and moan.

I miss how you made my heart swell.

I miss how simple life was.

I miss you.

Izzy

Foe

She has a past filled with lust

She is one who I cannot trust

Her name a constant on his phone

I don’t want her influence in my home

He spends with her such little time

But every night his phone does chime

I think the threat come from within

From my past of forbidden love and sin

But maybe my gut is warning me

Of things I am not there to see

My intuition typically leads me in the right direction

The consequences are something to consider with introspection

She slinks in with an innocent smile

Offering a dollar, a laugh, and something more worthwhile

I cannot help but wonder

Is it my relationship with him she wants to toss asunder?

Trying to express my concerns and fear

Goes in one and out the other ear

I want to trust him without condition

But it seems I cannot let go of my contrition

I worry I’ll not be able to let this all go

Because in my heart she is my foe

Izzy

Unattainable

 

I want to start this by saying I love my partner. He is an amazing partner, a great provider, and can definitely satisfy me between the sheets.

But.

In the foreground of my mind there is always this deep desire for more. Not more from him. More from someone else, a female to be exact. For the most part he knows where I sit about my sexuality but there is no reason to run to him every time I have a thought or feeling. I mean really how many guys go straight to their female companions every time they fantasized about another or have shared every desire? Not very many, I can assure you. This is not to say that I wouldn’t like to talk more but that seems like beating a dead horse.

Sometimes while we are together, or even when I am by myself, I am constantly on the lookout for a woman who might be looking at me. Does that make any sense? I am not looking to interact with them in the moment but the desire for a woman to come up to me and say, “Hey, I saw you and just wanted to say I think you are beautiful.” I think my issue is rooted in the fact that because I am in a straight mono relationship I exude that aura of “taken”. Don’t get me wrong I love my relationship but the fact is I am missing someone. I know it.

It’s this vicious cycle of wanting more from life and love. I am terribly scared of the consequences of being with a woman. What if she can’t accept that I have children and a fiance? What if she cannot accept that we are strapped for time and money? What if she cannot accept that I have health issues that prevent random sexual encounters? There are so many variables that are unaccounted for. None of these issues deter my feelings for wanting to be swooped up and cradled in the bosom of a woman who loves me.

Sometimes the pain is so deep I can barely breathe and other times I wish there was a cure for what ails me…today, it is both.

 

Izzy

 

Wishing they would notice me

 

 

I know she’s out there. Where or who I do not know just yet. But I know she is there. Maybe she is feeling lonely, empty, and unfulfilled like I am. Maybe she is happy and content in her life but hasn’t found that one person who makes life complete. But maybe I have already had and lost her, eh who knows. I am not seeking anyone in particular, hell I am not even putting myself “out there” in a real way. Mostly I am looking through the window, even squinting at times when I think I have lost sight of any possibilities.

During the most mundane of tasks I have my eyes wide open.

Today, while going through the local fast food drive-thru for a treat for the little princess I encountered a woman. She was not amazingly beautiful nor was she Gilbert Grape’s momma. While she was ringing up my order I wanted her to say something to me but instead it was this goofy guy in training behind her who after 8 seconds of staring at me came up with, “I love your glasses.”

While it was nice of him to notice the most obvious thing on my face, it meant nothing because she did not say it. I am not saying that male attention is not awesome as a whole. My whole life has been a back and forth of trying to figure out how to classify myself in relationships with men. As a youth, I explored every facet of relationships that I could pull off; straight, lesbian, mono, poly, and cheating in-between. With my ex, I was a bisexual who wanted to be a lesbian. After my ex, I left my options open by seeing multiple people (with their knowledge of course). Then I met my fiance. My sexuality has never been a real issue, mostly because he knows I am not a traditional bisexual and is okay with it.

The awesomeness of my fiance is that many times we have talked about my needs and desires to be with a woman. He has always said, “You are still figuring yourself out. I am okay with you exploring what you need,” and that is that. But the hardship doesn’t end when he says it’s okay…as a matter of fact for me it has only just begun. I try to avoid commenting on an attractive woman. I attempt to not feel the thump in my heart when two women are kissing. I try to be in the moment with him at all times, but my heart and mind do wander. (And, I do not confess these conflicts of interest.)

I am chickenshit, point blank.

I think that as much as I want a female partner, I am afraid of putting myself out there. I am scared of not being accepted as a bisexual poly mother of 6 in a straight mono relationship. I am afraid of the unknown. Let’s be honest the monster you know is better than the one you don’t, right?

So here I sit mulling over the day. Wishing that she would have noticed me. Wishing that just because I am walking around with my kiddo women will notice me. Wishing that society would stop fucking with the image of self I am allowed to be. Wishing I was a different version of me. Wishing she would notice me.

 

Izzy

These chains that bind me

I need to purge these feelings,

these happy warm giddy forbidden feelings.

They are trapped inside of me,

like rabid lab rats.

The more I fight them away,

the more they come back with a vengeance.

At times I sit here smiling fakely,

while inside my emotions throw me down and rape me.

I shake my head hoping to loosen the chains,

lessening the grip they have on me.

My heart is a piece of lead,

weighing my soul and body down.

I am sickened by this dose of reality,

knowing my heart and real life cannot meet.

Izzy