Beginnings

So my boyfriend is visiting. Tonight is the NAMI meeting, but we decided not to go. We had a long day, a lot of time was spent driving around looking for an Entenmann's Factory Outlet. We first went to the one by me, but it was closed and said they are relocating, but listed other locations. So we decided to go to one of the locations on the sign. We drove and drove and it turns out that one was shut down too! Entenmann's is not only the best bakery line, in my opinion, but also brings back many fond memories from my childhood. That's right, food brings back good memories. My grandmother was probably one of their best customers buying their cakes and cookies like every week. She would always give my sister and I dessert when we lived with her. It wasn't the desserts growing up that caused my weight gain though. It was my psych meds interfering with my appetite and metabolism. My grandmother eventually developed Alzheimer's disease and forgot about the need to eat. We fed her Entenmann's even when she didn't remember what it was anymore. It was always her favorite. I would hope that someone would remember my favorite things if I forgot what they were. I don't plan on having any kids ever, so I don't know who would visit me if I ended up in a nursing home someday. Oh, well, can't worry about everything...though I manage to worry about most things on a daily basis.

The dark and depressing parts of life always seem to attract me like a magnet. My depression was all I had when I was 13. I had no friends (we had just moved to a different town) and nothing to do besides homework. My dad was drinking all the time, and being really silly and embarassing. My mom was depressed and violent most of the time. So I started getting into working extra diligently on my homework. I became creative with my writing assignments, mixing in elements of my dark depression in an attempt to cry for help. Most of the teachers ignored it. One wrote a note on my paper and told me that the school psychologist was a very friendly and gentle person I could go to talk to if I needed. At least someone paid attention. However, I didn't have the strength to make an appointment with him on my own. It took my boyfriend at the time going down to guidance and telling them they thought something was wrong with my mother and the way she treated me to get me in any sort of counseling situation. One day I was in health class and they paged me to go down to the guidance office. I thought I was in trouble or something. Anyway, the airhead of a guidance counselor I had decided she would be my 'therapist.' She was not helpful in the least, until I told her I was suicidal and she called my dad. My dad listened to her and found me a social worker to talk to. That was the beginning of the great downfall; though it seemed like things were getting better, things were actually about to get much worse.