The new neighbors

So, I finally heard back...I have an appointment with the therapist but not until May 14th. This past year is keeping them very busy. Guess writing is going to have to do for now.

Alright, enough of that. Let's talk about the new neighbors. Around the age of 9, a family moved in next door. I was super excited because they had a daughter a year older than me and now I would have someone to play with. My own sister is seven years older, so, we didn't spend much time together. The little girl and I became fast friends and she spent a lot of time over at my house, but we didn't spend much time at hers. I remember I used to hear yelling often coming from their place and I remember the few times I did go over, the house was really messy.

It's funny the things you remember. I used to get this feeling like something wasn't quite right, but on the other hand, I was jealous that they ate Ragu spaghetti sauce. For the life of me I have no idea why that made me jealous, considering my mom made the best spaghetti ever. Weird, just weird. Another thing that was weird was her dad. He was always in a bathrobe whenever I was at their house and he didn't say much, but he always seemed angry. I'm sure that was a big contributor in us not hanging out at her house. as well as the fact that she had a younger sister and brother that would constantly bug us.

For the most part, it was just a normal friendship. We rode bikes together, played games, make believe, basically what most 9 & 10 year olds do. We even went to the grand opening of a new amusement park together.

But all of that was going to change.

My life would change forever.

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You gotta start somewhere

So I did a thing today. It’s been a long time coming, but I know I’ll never mend if I keep going on as I have. God, it was so hard dialing the phone number. I literally made myself physically ill; my stomach was in knots, I kept having to use the restroom, and I had no appetite. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The old feelings of anxiety we’re trying so hard to rise to the surface. I hate fucking anxiety! As soon as the person answered, I knew there was no going back; I had to move forward. Of course, after almost 15 minutes waiting on hold, I find out that I needed to send an email. I have to admit, I did consider ditching the whole idea, but I put my big girl panties on and I wrote the damn thing. Man, I really hated seeing it staring back at me in black and white, but I hit “send”. I got a response pretty quick. It was pretty cool that they recognized how hard it must have been for me to write the email and they assured me that they would forward m...

Public or Private

If you’re reading this then that means I changed it back to a public setting. It’s been a week since I wrote the last post and I was OK with it, but by the next morning, panic had set in. I started doing all the things that I had done for years that had kept me silent. Wondering about what others would think of me and what will my husband think. I just couldn’t have it out there and so I changed it from public to private. It pisses me off that I am still feeling the shame. Fuck! Will that ever go away? As I write this right now, it’s still private. That last post took a lot out of me and it’s taken me a week to even get on here. There’s so much more I need to talk about, to write about, but I also need time to process it after I do it. I don’t know what happened to the little girl who lives next-door to me. I don’t know if she’s still alive today or not. What she did to me was so wrong, yet it had to have been a learned behavior and like I said before, I’m positive there wer...

Still so innocent.

To be so innocent, so unaware of the evil that was so cleverly disguised. How I wish I could go back and tell her to be aware, to be on her guard at all times. I was in the 2nd grade when this picture was taken and it would be 3 more years before the first incident took place. When I think back on everything that I have experienced, it almost feels as if I'm looking at some Lifetime drama movie of the week. Seriously, this can't be my actual life. I mean, how much crappy stuff does one person have to experience. There's a reason I decided to start my story at age 7 instead of 9. This was about that time that the teasing began. As you can see from the picture, I was a chubby kid and that makes you a target for people to make fun of you. I've never understood why people think you're not as smart, just because you're overweight. It was even worse since my last name was Baker. I still hear the taunts, "Bake me a cake, as fat as you are!" I tried not to le...

Slightly Frayed, In Need of Repair

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