My truth is…I’m a survivor of bullying.

What’s the definition of bullying? According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, it’s “abuse and mistreatment of someone vulnerable by someone stronger, more powerful, etc.”

From as far back as I can remember, I was always one of the “different” kids. This was long before I knew I was autistic. Hardly anyone wanted to be friends with me. Moving to Arizona when I was 10 didn’t help. 5^th grade was like the only year I had some peace. My teachers liked me (except for my PE teacher, who made me do extra exercise every day), despite me being the most disorganized student in the grade.

6^th grade was when it all went to pot. I had my first of several experiences with racism. I wasn’t well liked, in particularly by 2 people, plus my science teacher. I was the scapegoat of the class (aka blamed for everything). I stood up for myself all the time, but it didn’t help much.

7^th grade was when it got really bad. I was bullied practically every day. I had one loser (who was black) call me a monkey all year long. Another loser called me the N-word regularly. I had several other people who would pick on me at some point. All I could do was continue to defend myself. One time, I beat up someone with my clarinet and was sentenced to in-school suspension. That year was also the first time I got suicidal. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell my parents what was going on because I was being abused at home as well.

8^th grade wasn’t much better. Granted, the amount of people who picked on me was lessened, but the teachers made up for that. I had the most racist teacher of all that year. She picked on me and all the black students in my class. At one point, she even threatened to have me arrested for “slander” aka telling the truth about her when I told only ONE person, my best friend at the time, that she was racist. Somehow, it spread across the cafeteria and she heard about it. I spent most of that afternoon in the nurse’s office because I was so upset. A couple of days later, I would find out that my emotions were out of control thanks to PMS. But things calmed down after that.

After that, I really wasn’t bullied by the other kids anymore. I only went through hell at home. It was around 8^th grade, that for some reason, my older sister stopped caring about me. She didn’t defend me, she didn’t give me any advice on how to handle high school (and I could have REALLY used the help), and whenever she did talk to me, it was only to say “Whatever” to EVERYTHING I said. I have PTSD from how she treated me.

When I was diagnosed with schizophrenia at 15 in the summer of 1995, I stopped giving a damn about what others thought of me. I was only focused on what kept me sane, and that was my imaginary friends and family. But my sister says that her classmates were talking about me. I think she was doing most of the talking.

I would later face bullying again when I was 25. It was during the time that I was going through severe depression in the summer of 2005, but that’s another story. I was very open about the mental illness I was dealing with. Someone who went by the name of Teandrea repeatedly mocked me and told me to kill myself. But I had pretty good friends back then who would come to my defense and stand up to her.

I’ve mostly been left alone since then. No one really messes with me now. But I’m still dealing with the trauma from all those years ago. I’ve spent years in therapy over it all. But guess what? I think I’m doing quite well for myself. I’m a successful pageant queen, I’m a darn good piano player, I’m a good writer, and overall, I’m still a decent person. So, the haters, both past and present, can suck it, bite it, and shove it up their ass.

My truth is…I hate being fat.

Being over 400 lbs. is a bitch a lot of the time. I can only walk/stand for not even a minute before my lower back starts to hurt like hell. Any movement I must do takes all my energy. I’m very winded when I go the shortest distances. Even going to the kitchen is taxing. I must take at least one break when I go grocery shopping so my back can relax. Going up the stairs from my apartment to the front office wears me out…and it’s only 8 steps I must go up. I take chair exercise every Friday. I hate it with a passion. By the end of it, I may feel accomplished, but it feels like a total waste of my energy.

Another downside is that I can barely find clothes in my size. The clothes I do find are hella expensive. I’m somewhere between a 36 and a 40, or a 5X/6X, depending on which clothes I’m wearing.

I have other various health issues because of my weight. I have sleep apnea. I’m supposed to be using a CPAP machine every night to help me sleep. But I’m not using it so I’m paying the price with being awake for most of the night much of the time. I have asthma and am supposed to be using 2 inhalers every day, but I don’t, so I pay.

I’ve been overweight since I was a child, though I was never bullied because of it. But my family always made sure to remind me of it every day. They tried to control how much I ate. I was threatened with being smacked around by my father when I would snack in the middle of the night. It didn’t help that I was constantly being compared to my older sister, who could eat like a horse and not gain an ounce. I wasn’t the most athletic person, and I REALLY hated gym. I remember running out of breath practically every day. I wasn’t diagnosed with asthma until I was 21. My weight didn’t really give me problems until I had back pain and couldn’t stand for a long time at my first job working in a high school cafeteria the week of my 20^th birthday.

After my dad died in 1999, my mom picked up where he left off, being up my ass about my weight. She constantly told me that I could get my boyfriend back if I lost weight. She’d always point out big women in public and tell me she didn’t want me to get as big as them.

I was, and still am, an emotional eater. Food was my only friend when I had none. I ate my share of snacks, especially cookies, chocolate, and Fruit Roll-ups…habits that remain to this day. It also didn’t help that I was on meds (Seroquel) that would make me gain a lot of weight. I had several phases when I would work out regularly, but it didn’t stop me from gaining all this weight.

So here I am today. I’ve cut back my eating to 2 meals a day, and the rest of the time I’m snacking on cookies and cheese at least twice a day. When I do eat, I wind up binging. Portion sizes? Yeah, right. Anything from 6 baked chicken drumsticks to half a bag of frozen chicken strips in one sitting. If it’s food and it’s in my house, it’s getting devoured.

And before you ask, I’ve checked out all the weight loss giants over the years: Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, NutriSystem, Curves, etc. I couldn’t afford them at the time and I certainly can’t afford it now. I only see so much money each week, and that goes towards groceries and rides. Gastric bypass is out of the question, as well. I’d have to lose at least 75 pounds before they can even talk about surgery. So, I’m trapped.

I don’t know what else I can do, but I know I can’t live like this.

But I do have a theory. I have hypothyroidism. I have no energy some days and my metabolism (and my self confidence) is about shot. I don’t think I’m able to burn calories or fat like I should. Then again, I can barely exercise like I should. I’m thinking if I can get an adjustment on my thyroid medication, then I should be able to get the results I’m hoping for. Right now, I’m desperate.

Maybe it’s all wishful thinking, maybe I’m putting too much thought into the whole thing. Maybe I’m destined to be fat and miserable for the rest of my life, however long that may be. I don’t know.

What I do know is that this can’t go on forever. Something must change, and it must happen soon.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton