The Man in the Window

The Library is a magical place. Go now. I have started reading again after a 4.5 year hiatus. Why did I wait so long? Oh probably because I didn't realize that the library is free and that you can place holds on the books you want and they just show up at the library. It's nuts.

I've pulled a piece from the archives for you today. I only had 4 readers when I posted this the last time so, Enjoy!

One Summer evening more than eleven years ago I found myself reading well into the early hours of the morning. That Summer I had discovered the joy of reading. So much so I couldn't let a night go by without clutching a book and sticking my nose between the pages. I would usually stay up until 4 or 5 in the morning reading. I loved to read and seriously I still can not believe it took me that long to discover the written word.

That night eleven years ago was no different. I went out with friends until ten or so then headed home, chatted with my mom for a little bit and then proceeded to read. Sometime after 1 am I needed to readjust my position and in doing so something had caught my eye out the window.

I froze.

My heart began racing.

OH.MY.GOD.

Was that what I think it was? A man staring at me through my window just two feet away.

No way, I thought.

My mind must have playing with me. I waited. The man, I think, was as surprised as I was because he waited and then checked again.

HOLY SHIT.

I was so scared I couldn't even scream because even in those brief seconds thoughts came flying at me.

If he wants to kill me and I scream I am going to die because that man is only feet away from me. So as my heart raced and my thoughts soared I had to make a plan. What was I going to do?

In seconds I had decided not to scream and to run for my door, once I was at my door I would run up two flights of stairs and wake my dad. I felt like I only had seconds because if this man was there to rob us and had a weapon he may use it on me if I feel the need to confront him.

So I ran. I ran to my door. I proceeded up the stairs, taking 3 stairs at a time, my heart racing; I have never ran that fast up the stairs in my life.

By the time I reached my dad I was out of breath, scared for my life and inarticulate.

"MAN.IN. MY.WINDOW", I said clearly out of breath.

After a few minutes I had calmed down enough to explain and although he could tell I was shaken he had a really hard time believing me. Even to this day I think my dad still brushes the event off. He thinks it was one of my brother's friends. I know it wasn't. I have that man's face burnt into my memory for the rest of my life. It was not a friend of my brothers, it was not some one from school.

It was a man, about 5'10", white blond with dark features, large eyebrows and no real expression. I could point him out in a line up even today, eleven years later.

I wish we had called the police. I mean what on earth was a person doing walking around our house in the middle of the night on one of the rainiest nights we had that Summer? Was he attracted to the light I had on? It seems to me it had to be deliberate because my parents house is neither on a main road or next to any other houses. Was that the first time? I know it was the last because the next day my dad took me to get blinds for my window.

After that I spent a lot of time sleeping on the floor of my parents bedroom. I never really felt safe sleeping by myself next to a window after that. The experience still shakes me when I am alone in our home or after I watch something scary. Talk about burning an image into my mind. Even writing this entry makes me shake. I hope I never have to face the man in the window again.

From Fat to Thin and Back Again: Part 6 - The End

(If you need to read Part 5 - Click Here!)

There I was in my room, sitting on my bed, counting how many pills I had left. Counting how many days I could continue this self mutilating act without the nuisance of dealing with the pangs of hunger that inevitably creep up on you when you starve yourself.

The mere thought that I had been exposed festered in the pit of my stomach all afternoon. I was exhausted.

I found myself wondering what I was doing. Why was I starving myself again? Oh right, because the rest of my life was a mess and controlling my eating was my escape. I could control everything that went into my mouth and that felt like something. And feeling something was better than nothing.

******

My life continued on as if none of this ever happened. That day, the day I was confronted was the last day I ever put one of the yellow pills into my mouth.

It seems the only thing I was really after was for someone to notice. For someone to notice I was dying on the inside as my parents were visibly dying on the outside.

I was a teenager dealing with death. Even though, at the time, it appeared I was just dealing with sick people. But death was there. I knew it. And, it scared me.

No one ever asked how I was doing. Even in my discovery, no one ever really asked how I was doing. No one ever asked why. No one, it seems, even cared.

But, I cared. I cared that I was killing myself. I cared that what I was doing was silly and selfish. I decided there were better ways to get attention. There were better options. Options like talking to my mom about her condition even though she cried her ways through her days and never got dressed out of her pajama's.

I did a one-eighty.

Instead of being quiet and reserved about what was happening, I started talking. I moved my bed into the dining room next to my mother because the closeness is what I needed. I decided to actually take control back from her disease and actually live my life instead of let it live me.

*****

As much as many people would say what I went through was terrible and my reaction even worse - it's what got me through. We all cope in different ways. Some turn to alcohol. Some turn to self mutilation. And some, well, some deal directly with what they are facing.

In the end, we all get through, despite those bumps and bruises along the way.

And, now, if anyone I know ever suggests that they lose weight with some pill I freak out. I freak out because those pills to me are sign that you are hiding from something. For me, that's true. I was hiding from my life with those pills much like an alcoholic hides from their lives with alcohol. I see that now.

What's funny is that I still cope with hard situations with food. Now, though? I eat. I eat and eat and eat.

Running Water is da Bomb!

(does anyone even say 'da Bomb anymore?)

Did you know that life without running water sucks?

I know, I don't know how our ancestors survived no flushing toilets, no running water in the kitchen and no showers either.

See, the thing that was so tragic about the septic tank going teets up on Tuesday afternoon was the fact that I never showered on Tuesday. It was just one of those things. I had plans to workout which meant that showering before the workout would only require another shower after and people, that is far too much showering, well, for me anyway.

At first I was all, Oh this should be an Adventure...like the olden days, after a few seconds of that pipe dream, the reality of our situation hit.

I wasn't so much worried about making dinner....we had a coupon after all and this was a wonderful excuse to use it.

I wasn't so much worried about the toilets...I'd use them and flush when all was clear - sending the boys outside to do their business.

I wasn't so much worried about the laundry...It would still be there when the use of our water returned.

What I was worried about was the shower.

Sure I miss a shower every once in a while, that isn't anything I get too worried about. But, now? I was faced with not being able to shower for two days straight. For some people this still wouldn't be a big deal. But for me? This was tragic.

My hair looked like someone had taken my dirty car oil and poured it onto my head. It looked wet and filthy. It was disgusting. But, like anything else my ego survived.

But, what I hadn't anticipated was my child finding my husband's Axe body spray (which I forbid him to wear because the smell is horrific). My child proceeded to spray half of the can onto his head.

He was wearing a cap when I saw him again. When he took off the cap the smell took me to my knees. I wish my camera had a scratch n' sniff option because the smell was one you'd have to smell to really understand.

But, what could I do?

I did what any other mother would do...we took a trip to Costco...we were burning daylight and I needed a toilet that flushed and the kids, they needed lunch.

The good news is that by 3pm our Septic was pumped, we were told our filter was clogged and that our drain field was in fact still working which meant that I nearly made out with the Poop Evacuate-r except you know, my kids were watching And! And, I was able to flush as many times as I wanted and TAKE A SHOWER.

I'm still not sure what makes me happier the shower or the thousands of dollars we didn't have to spend on a new drain field.

I smell something...

and I wish I could tell you it was the Baby's diaper.

But, it's not.

My Living Room which openly ajoins our Kitchen smells like someone went and pooped under the couch. And left it there. For days.

If I wasn't so certain it was poop that I was smelling I'd think something up and died right there in the middle of my Living Room while pooping.

When Bob came home - he smelled it too. But, he's a plumber. He knows poop when he smells it.

Apparently, our septic tank is FULL!

As in backing up into our shower full.

As in the whole house smells like poop full.

As in no one is available to pump it until tomorrow afternoon full (eventhough clearly this is an emergency!)

As in I can't use water full.

As in I can't flush full.

As in OMGTHISISGOINGTOCOSTTHOUSANDSOFDOLLARS FULL!

From Fat to Thin and Back Again: Part 5

There I was standing 2 feet away from a family friend who had just confronted me in a crowded area right next to my Dad. At first I laughed because that is what I do when I get nervous, I laugh. Oh this? I have no idea how THIS happened, pointing down to the fact that my pants were falling off.

It was May, I had been at it for a few months and it showed. Pants that were once stressed at the seams were now falling off and requiring me to roll them at the waist. That kind of thing doesn't just happen and our family friend knew that. She had three kids of her own - two of which were girls. She had her eye on me because Mom was home, getting better, like always.

She pushed a little harder. Are you sure you are feeling okay? The last time I saw you those pants were tight. Yes, I am fine, maybe I have just been forgetting to eat. You know, I've been busy.

Maybe you should see a doctor, she suggests.

She pushed hard. Pulling the doctor card out would have worked when I was younger but I was fourteen - practically raised. I knew a bluff when I heard one. No, no. I insisted.

Just then, I heard my Dad's voice. Hey, I've noticed too. You used to be Fat and now kid, I can almost see through you. Maybe it's all that running Mom has been telling me about, or maybe you are having growth spurt.

My mind races.

Wait...did he just say I was fat? No. He said USED to be fat. Running? Yes! The running is a good reason.

Yes Dad, it must be ALL that running, I said to him half jokingly knowing that was the best way out of this awkward situation.

Let me go get a hamburger - you look like you are starving, he says walking away.

Brilliant, Dad! Starving, I think to myself while ignoring what our family friend is trying to tell me about eating right. Starving indeed.

******

The hamburger couldn't come quick enough. I was starving.

By this time I was running low on pills and the drawer was now empty. I had consumed them all - with the exception of the few I had left at home for the weekend. I was rationing those pills and a weekend which required lots of work and long hours was one I preferred real food over pills - if given the choice.

Actually, if given the choice, I always preferred to eat.

After the hamburger arrived I consumed it in front of everyone. See you got nothing to worry about, I said licking my fingers thinking I was fooling everyone.

*******

My Dad and I arrived home very late that Sunday night. I went straight to bed and Dad, well, I figure he talked with my Mom.

Monday after school my Mom confronted me.

She opened the third drawer down to the left of the oven from her wheelchair. She was wearing her nightgown. She was always wearing her nightgown. I was on the opposite side of the counter getting nervous because that was THE DRAWER.

Mom fumbled through the drawer and asked if I had "seen" her pills while holding up empty boxes. She accused me of taking them. I denied it - like any teenager about to get in trouble.

She knew. I knew she knew. She knew I knew she knew.

The accusations quit shortly after they started.

She told me to quit taking the pills. I told her only after she promised never to use them herself. We both agreed.

I left, went to my room and counted the pills. I had 12 left.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

From Fat to Thin and Back Again: Part 4 Deny, Deny, Deny

The power - that feeling of invincibility - is addicting. I wanted more. I wanted to feel invincible, or I guess, I wanted to fool myself into feeling invincible.

Every hour of every day not a minute would pass that I felt vulnerable. I mean, I knew my father was dying before my eyes and my mom, well, I knew my parents were keeping secrets about her condition. I am just not sure who they thought they were fooling, although, in hindsight not telling us was the right thing to do.

So, I continued. With each day I would limit my consumption more and more. Soon I had it nailed down to a science.

See, the funny thing about not eating is that you get tired. Shocking, I know.

Nothing to eat until after school. If I couldn't make it through school I'd have one cookie at lunch or Diet Pepsi. Those were the obvious choices to a 14 year-old because for one sugar packs an immediate punch and caffeine is from devil, which in turn makes it a fine choice for staying awake.

When I made it home, I'd have a scoop of Hagen Dazs Coffee Ice Cream. If I was up to it, I'd run. If I ran, I'd allow myself a few bites of dinner otherwise, nothing.

What I haven't told you is that I was also an athlete. I competitively rode horses. I trained in Oregon on the weekends. During this time not only were both of my parent's sick but I also switched trainers. There was drama. It was the perfect opportunity to hide my addiction - she wouldn't know any different, I secretly thought. And, I was right.

I would go the entire weekend having two Diet Cokes and a few bites of dinner...those were the most difficult days. I remember tears streaming down my face in the tack room because I was so hungry and even though I packed a lunch, I wouldn't allow myself to eat it. Punishment for being so fat, I would tell myself.

About eight weeks in - someone noticed. And now, looking back, that is all I ever wanted. I wanted someone to see that I was dying to be noticed.

Of course, I did what any other self respecting addict would do - I denied it.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

You Totally Need to Blame the Nuts

Last night while deciding what to have for dinner I grabbed the peanuts thinking I'd use them for dinner. However, I kibosh-ed the idea and put them back in the pantry but not before grabbing a few handfuls.

During dinner my stomach started to feel icky but I just figured it was the fact that I had eaten too many carrots earlier and my stomach was rebelling.

After dinner I was queasy and needed to brace myself for each stomach cramp, much like bracing during labor. I found myself breathing through each cramp as if all those breathing exercises in my birthing class were actually meant to help you during labor or, you know, the occasional intestinal battle.

The nausea was unbearable.

I suffered through the night.

It wasn't until I was in the Kitchen pacing back and forth at 12:17 am that I thought about those peanuts. Those damn peanuts. You know, the peanuts responsible for making hundreds of people sick. Yeah, those fucking peanuts.

My husband swore on his grave there was no way the peanuts we had were bad because he had at least 6 handfuls and not even a grumble.

FDA says different.

I'll be back soon-ish since I'm feeling better, so maybe it wasn't the nuts BUT when in doubt blame the NUTS!

From Fat to Thin and Back Again: Proof

Part 1
Part 2

Proof that I wasn't fat.

This picture was taken 6 months before I found the pills. I was 13 in this photo which makes me 14 when I started the pills not 12 like I had previously wrote. (Part 1 has been corrected.)

This picture was taken at the Grand Canyon during our road trip across the country by car.

I was sick as hell in this photo because we ate at a greasy spoon in Grand Teton Wyoming (3 days before). We had to stop at every single bathroom on the way out of the Park. There were 10 gas stations on each block for about three blocks. You do the math. It took about 2 hours to travel those three blocks. The spaghetti was not worth it.

Also, I have legs I swear. Although a brief glance at all the photos from the trip disclose otherwise.

P.S. I would have also found a more flattering picture if one existed. However, since my mother passed my Dad has been "cleaning" out his house and somehow he has "misplaced" all of the photos of my childhood. This one somehow managed to survive.

From Fat to Thin and Back Again: Part 2

There I stood in the only house I ever knew holding a box of pills I didn't need.


I was about 5'6" and weighed no more than 125 pounds. Sure I wasn't model thin and I had some meat on my bones but I certainly wasn't fat. I had friends who were bigger and lots who were smaller.


Grabbing the pills was not about weight loss, I see that now. It was about control. I needed to see that I was in charge of something, anything in my life. But also, the losing weight part was like an added bonus because I always felt like I could be skinnier.


After taking the box of pills from that drawer, I read every single word on the insert. Lots of it didn't make any sense and was mostly medical mumbo jumbo. I did read and comprehend about how with the help of exercise I could lose more weight than just simply dieting alone.


That evening, in my room, I made a decision. I decided that the pills would not be enough and that the next day I would start running.


The following day I didn't eat a single thing until dinner.

Before dinner I went on a run, which honestly resembled more of a walk/jog jig.

I ate very little dinner and never before in my life had I felt so powerful.

Part 1

From Fat to Thin and Back Again (and again...and again)

It was just after 8 pm on a rainy evening some time in January. My Father was upstairs getting ready for bed and my mother was tucked into her hospital bed in the dining room.

I was freaking out, although being all of 14 years old I didn't know what in the hell was going on with me. See the previous few months were riddled with confusion. There had been an unending stream of terrible news.

Dad was in for a quadruple bypass which was scheduled two days after the blockage was found - his condition was serious so as to move him up to the front of the line of a six month waiting list. Dad was healing nicely but not without first scaring the crap out of me.

And, Mom. Well, she was finally diagnosed with RA. She was starting an unending surgery race to replace or fix joints that were being deteriorated faster than she could heal from the surgeries.
And me, well, nothing was wrong with me expect that with the terrible health of my parents no one really noticed. Anything.

That evening I was looking for something, what I was looking for I wasn't sure but I was looking for something. Maybe I was looking for someone to notice. Maybe I looking for a way to stop feeling so damn much. Maybe my controlling personality just wanted something it could control in my spiraling life. I am really not sure what I was after.

What I found was in the third drawer down to the left of the oven, behind the popcorn kernels and underneath my Mother's romance novels. I found what I never knew I was looking for.

The box was unforgettable - it was average size and bright red so as to attract your attention to the promise the words on the package held.

Staring back at me in bright yellow letters was the word Dexatrim.

Anatomy of Preschool Rock Stars

First, you need to figure out your equipment because no Rock Star is convincing with his guitar on backwards.

You need to take a few lessons from your Dad who is currently holding the Rock Band I'm the Rockin-est Daddy You Know title - he's legendary, just ask him.

You know, you need to run a little mic check while your comrades figure out their gear.

Find yourself a groupie or two.

Finally, you need to ROCK and when you get done rockin'...you need to ROCK some more!