Sitting by the Dock of the Bay

Ok, not the bay, but the Lake?! Yeah, that is my story and I am sticking to it. I love going to the Lake. It is one place where I always feel Happy, truly Happy. Not pretending to be happy. I did that for so many years, I even convinced myself. I acted happy because that is what I thought it took to really be happy. Looking back on my past, it kinda scares me. It scares me because I came to a couple of realizations the other day. I think I have ADHD and maybe even Manic Depressive, or whatever they call that nowadays. I have been thinking about things that teachers said to my Mom. "Kathy is a dreamer". "She seems to drift away, and I have to get her attention to bring her back." "I know she could do better, she is just lazy." But, I wasn't lazy. I was confused and lost. I drifted away because it was a better place to be. I drifted because most of the time I did not understand. Everyone seemed to "get it", except I didn't. I just faked it. I never said anything to my parents or grandparents because I did not want to embaress myself or the rest of the family. If only someone would have recognized and helped me. Instead they put me on a diet when my weight began to go up. I had a good friend when I was about 9. He listened. He cared. He was my mentor. He made me feel like I was important. He made me feel accepted and loved. He was in his 80s. Something happened or didn't happen and my Mom went a bit crazy and did not let me see that man ever again. His name was Mr. Sims. I still miss him. I miss the times we talked. I miss the way he made me feel. I miss that unconditional love. He saw me. He listened to me. He heard me. I think he was my first love. Not the physical kind. Just the friendship kind. Too bad it had to end, I think he would have helped me in my future life. Hugs to his spirit. He was a true friend. Bye Mr. Sims. *Sigh*, I don't even remember his first name. Goodbye Mr. Sims, my first friend.

Me

I will be delving into myself. Thinking out loud, so to speak. Wondering when and why things went down the wrong path when I was a child. Why and what happened or was said that triggered my beginning to use food to fix my hurts, my failures, my not feeling enough love. I am not sure what the answer is, or if there even is one. I know I am not alone in this venture. I only know that I will find out how to fix my pain. I have to. Before it is too late. I have many health issues. Until a few years ago, I truthfully did not care. I figured I would get healthy some day. Or, that when I began to have problems with my health, THEN I would get serious about losing those excess pounds. I have been on some form of diet my entire life. I was about 10 when I first began to hear that I needed to lose weight. I was out of the norm. All I knew was that when I ate that cake and or ice cream, I truly did feel so much better. At least for a little while. Oh, if only they had gone on walks with me instead of trying to limit how much I ate. I felt like I was not worthy. I know that no one meant for me to feel that way. They were only trying to help me. Then I loved the way that those sweets made me feel. AAAhhhhh. For a while I was on cloud nine. Then pow the floor would fall out and I would feel bad. I felt bad when kids began to tease me and call me names. I did not understand what was going on with my body. It was always up and down emotionally. Anyway, I am getting off the track. I have decided to write my feelings here instead of going to the cupboards or the fridge.

Hello there.

I am Kate. This is my Blog. I have not decided yet what this blog will be about. It will vary from day to day. My diary? My Story? My Life? My Family. My thoughts. ME. Yes, probably all of the above. I don't know how to write something knowing others will read it. Well here I go. I choose to begin here. Today. I will undoubtedly ramble until I get my style going. I will type as if writing to a friend, thinking aloud. Letting my brain and my fingers get together and say whatever they come up with. Yep, that's it. Don't expect perfect writing from me. That is not what this space is about at all. This is just going to be me. Raw, uncensored, me. Kate. Kate is a nickname given to me by my dad's Mom, my Grandma Iva. She always called me Katey Jo. It was a way she told me she loved me. She is the only person who ever called me Kate. Most of the time she called me Kate when she and I were alone together doing things around her home. It was her way of connecting especially only with me. I guess you could say it was a "pet" name. I liked it. I think my Grandma felt sorry for me because I was the only girl with an older and younger brother always around to tease and taunt me. They were good at, believe me. I learned at a very young age to yell for help "before" they got to me. I could whine with the best of them too, lol.