PLEASE NOTE: The names in this very personal blog (with the exception of Mark Kenny and Rich Fout) have been changed. Please understand, I will not discuss this blog with anyone. The only reason for it being written is because of a selfish one. My weight loss. This chapter in my life began a very, very rough road for me. Obesity being a huge part. (no pun intended, lol I apologize, but I have to laugh or I’ll begin to wither.) Mark Kenny (His Real Name) pissed me off a long time ago when he said my weight was a result of healing I hadn’t gone through. Only these past two years have I realized he was right. I’m at a pivotal point in my weight, and frankly, I need to heal in this area before moving forward. I’m at the last two pounds before I reach my FIRST goal. They need to fuckin’ go. They can leave with this cruel truth of their sick beginning and fuck off into oblivion forever.
Can I say that?

It was the coolest club house I had ever seen. It had two rooms with a long hallway separating them. You had to bend down to get through the front and only door. Even me, at 10yrs old.
 Brian and Tony designed and built it all by themselves. You could only go in by invite only and being that I was the little sister of Brian’s best friend it was an open one.
The front room was a square the size of a small kitchen. It had red velvet carpet throughout the floor and walls. The hallway approx. 5 feet long had the same type of carpet but it was black.
Although bending you could stand in the front room. The hallways were different.
It was narrow.
You had to crawl through it.
My parents were baptist so pants and shorts were a NO. I always had to wear skirts and dresses. Which made it uncomfortable crawling through the “hallway.”
“Tommie-girl don’t go in there. It’s weird and I don’t like it.” My brother Randy (real name) said.
I should have fucking listened. (beginning my need to apologize, for EVERYTHING.)
The back room, after crawling through the hallway, also had black carpet. With a square red velvet pillow.
For weeks I would hang out there with Brian. Who was 18yrs old. But one day it all changed. (introducing my loathing for skirts and dresses). That whole first summer was so fun. It wasn’t until the next summer, I had just turned 11.
It all went so so awful. I can’t honestly say I remember every detail. Bits and pieces mostly. I don’t know if it’s because I blocked them or that I just don’t want to remember but…I recall going home and taking a bath.
My mom brushing my hair talking about things I needed to get ready for Church the next day.
I remember my blue nightgown feeling so cold against my bathed skin and wet hair.
A few days later I started my period.
Then it began…
For years.
Three to be exact.
Always in that mother fucking club house and that goddamn red velvet pillow shoved over my face. Sometimes I swore to God he was going to suffocate me and I’d die there.
Sigh…sometimes I prayed I would.
He was so cute when I was ignorant and 10 but now he was foul smelling, ugly and gross. I hated him. I fucking hated him.
He never threatened my family. Only that it was my fault because I’d come in there when he told me to.
He was right.
I still don’t even know why I waited so long to tell.
Three long years. (introducing my anger towards myself)
I know why I didn’t.
Fear. (DING! DING! DING! Introducing my reaction to anything not comfortable)
Sitting in the waiting area outside of the Pastor’s office I could hear my mom crying and my dad was quiet.
Very, very quiet.
“The Lord has forgiven her. Let it go and never speak of it again.” The Pastor’s words going through me like a fret train. (hello my feeling of being the poster child for fuck up’s and shame) I was breathing so heavy, trying not to cry. “This WAS my fault.” (again, hello Cheryl’s need to always apologize)
We got home and as soon as we walked into the house my mom wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tighter than I had ever felt before. I exploded with apology after apology as the tears just covered both of our faces and we fell to the living room floor. My mom’s voice going from compassionate to concern as she said “No baby, this was NOT your fault.”
The next day my dad in all his 300 pound ex Marine Drill Sgt. ass knocking on the front door to Brian’s house. He said a few words to Brian’s dad and he called for Brian to come outside. His dad shutting the front door leaving my dad to go beast mode on Brian in his very own front yard like he was a rag doll.
My parents were (to this VERY fucking day) the ONLY people who EVER went hard for me.
I miss them.
Every…fucking…day.
By the time I was 15yrs old I weighed well over 200 pounds. My clothing was always twelve sizes too big, meeting new people was a vulnerability I could not afford and music was a refuge. (Hellllo ANTHRAX!)
My self esteem was non existent.
fast forwarding to the end of my marriage I was so broken.
“Damaged.”
My ex husband informed me of my new stronghold. (introducing never being good enough).
“No man will ever want anything to do with you. You’re damaged.”
Strongholds, shame, anger, intimidation, fear, obesity, rebellion… so many issues resulting from one man’s SIN.
ONE sin began the root of my beginning in a long life of running.
Running from anything that didn’t feel comfortable.
Sexual abuse sadly didn’t end there for me. I wish I could say it did. Those story’s I will keep to myself.
I wasn’t promiscuous. But I was irresponsible.
This was clearly not my fault.
However… (take a VERY deep breath everyone)
Every choice, since realizing my root problem was unresolved healing from this…is.
Let me explain.
The beginning of my weight gain was based in a root of sin, but the fact I chose to ignore it and not heal, IS MY FAULT.
We have a responsibility in our relationships with the Lord to place EVERYTHING at His feet.
PURGE our darkest shame.
EVEN…if it wasn’t your fault. Because NOT dealing with it, IS your fault.
NOT dealing with it, IS YOUR FAULT. NOT dealing with it, IS YOUR FAULT.
Food is not your friend. It’s not a comfort (big fucking lie). Clothing twelve sizes too big so they fall past your “girl parts” and cover the fact you have boobs is SPIRITUAL BONDAGE.
Mark told me these things over and over. NOBODY but Mark. He kept it real with me and I loved him and hated him for it. please know that in starting my journey of healing, revelation and new life I’m nearly one hundred pounds away from where I started 😉 (Deuces 298lbs)
There were demons that turned into strongholds, then into issues, turning into a past, turning into food, turning into weight, turning into excuses.
Next thing you know I was 40 yrs old, divorced, fat and defeated.
What are you going to do?
Stay defeated? Not ME.
Stay fat? FUCK NO.
However, I like being divorced 🙂 that’ll keep, for now. (laughter people…try it.)
God protected me. (GASP!)
I had beautiful parents whose souls were pure in love and loyalty to their daughter. (we left the church)
My mom taught me to laugh even in the dreariest of times.
My dad never stopped hugging me. Kissing my forehead every night, tucking me in making sure I felt safe. (my need to be tucked in arrives 😉 ) Even when I was an adult and moved out in my own apartment. My father would call me every night to make sure all was well and to remind me I can always come home.
I miss them.
God protected my future by having qualities and character traits instilled by the most loving beautiful people.
He placed people in my path that looked out for my need for raw honesty and truth. (Introducing Rich Fout, his real name. Mark Kenny and a few others)
You are not the root cause in whatever sin shamed you out of.
Face those fears. Fear is NOT of God.
God is loving, just and faithful.
I have no idea where Brian is today but as I sit here typing this blog I know that wherever he is, all he needs is to cry out to God and he too can be washed clean and start anew.
I pray he finds his root, dispose of it at the feet of Jesus and find forgiveness and peace that passes ALL understanding.
I release him and every other man that did things to me against my will and without permission.
Look, if you’re angry after reading this, I get it. I do. But I have no time to be bitter. It was scratching at the surface of my shame and I can’t have that. Bitterness is death for a Christian (and everyone else!!).
I look back just 4yrs ago the kids and I were living in a van (insert Chris Farley SNL skit here).
I was miserable.
The day I moved into my apartment two years ago was a crossroads for me. My CHOICE was to move forward never looking back.
It’s not just listening but going a step beyond and listening with a spiritual sense not a logical one. Truly accept what you have to do to heal from that root.
Forgetting your problems and running from pain you think is too unbearable to deal with, is not healing. It’s cowardly (can I say that?).
Please know, if your “issue” is weight. There is something much more heavy dragging you down than the fat surrounding your heart. (too harsh?)
LET IT GO.
It took me two years of deep ass soul searching, crying on the shower floor, reading my bible, blocking Mark from all social media, and a million emotional breakdowns and financial crisis before just getting to the point I’m at now. I have many more strongholds and demons due to my choices in life. (read that again and remember it).
But I assure you. I will crush and break each and every one.
Starting with this one.
The root of all their beginnings…but please understand, the reason they stay is my sin. (What did she just say?) Read it again gangsta.
In order to get rid of weeds they need uprooted. If you’ve worked in gardens you know how tedious that can be.
It’s not easy.
It takes time.
The right tools.
Effort and endurance.
You’re welcome.

I’ll leave it at that.
As always….
CHERyL