Hi, I’m Elle And I’m A Train Wreck. (Welcome, Elle!)


I feel broken. Just…broken. I’ve felt this way as long as I can recall. I never fit in with the other kids. While most of them were out playing after school, I was at the bar with Dad, (my grandparents raised me and my grandfather will always be my dad). We’d stay until closing most nights. I’d go in the back room and sleep when I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer.

My entire childhood was a bit off, I suppose. So much happened so early on in my life, I can’t point to any one thing and say that’s what did it…THAT’S what made me the way I am. That’s why I’m broken. I was a binge drinker by age 9. I mean…how do you fit that in with going to middle school? …”Hey, Cindy Lou…wanna come to my house and do shots till we pass out?”. I was exceptionally smart and was moved up a grade in elementary school. They wanted to move me from second to fifth grade.  My grandmother would not allow it  because she thought it would be odd for me socially. lol! Really? At least the fifth graders were closer to the age of the people at the BAR! LOL!

Also, at age nine, I was put on a strict diet because I was pudgy. My grandmother would give me her diet pills and, if they gave me a headache or made me too nervous, she’d give me a Valium. She’d been giving me that since I was very little. It knocked me out and I guess it made her life easier. I was also what they used to refer to as bullemarexic. That meant that I starved myself for periods of time, eating nothing, or a very specific food only. For me, it was green beans. Three per meal, which I’d throw up. Periodically, I’d indulge in all-out bulimic episodes of constant binge eating and purging. Boozing it all the way through. But I will say that I looked amazing! lol! In my early teens, I was hospitalized a couple of times with alcohol related stomach trouble. I’d dry out for a week or so, then get back at it. At 18, I was put into an eating disorder unit for six weeks, where I became clean and sober for the first time since childhood. I also did very well with my eating disorders and became an aerobics instructor and trainer after I got married, shortly after leaving rehab. Unfortunately, years later, after having my boys, I got very fat and have never lost the weight, gaining much more on top of that. However, it is still a win, since I have obviously been victorious over anorexia! (Silver lining alert!)

Why am I spilling my guts like this? I don’t know. I think I’m trying to figure things out…really, really figure things out…for the first time in my life. I think that my childhood is why I’m still with Exish. I have always felt that I owed him a debt of gratitude for getting me out of the situation I was in. He came from the sunny side of the street, so to speak. In spite of the fact that his father was an alcoholic, Exish at least knew how things were supposed to. We raised our boys like he was raised. They were never exposed to anything they shouldn’t have been. Even with that, one became an addict and alcoholic…starting at the age of nine, ironically. The other…a total stand up guy from the second he breathed his first breath.

When I look back, I know that, had it not been for Exish, I wouldn’t have gotten out of the ghetto we lived in. My dad made great money, but spent it all on booze and broads, (who were not my grandmother). Formerly government housing, the neighborhood had gone through gentrification and was nice when Dad first bought the house, but in about fifteen years, it was turning into Crackville. Though I lived in the desert off and on, and consider that my homeland, Chelsea was the neighborhood that stuck to me like a shadow. Back home, if you’re from Chelsea, people think you’re a piece of shit. It’s a stigma that carries on to this very day. Of course, they don’t mind taking their upper class white asses over there to get their dope, but they would not deign to rub shoulders with riff raff such as that which lives in Chelsea under any other circumstance. In all fairness, I’m weary of going into Chelsea anymore. It’s like a war zone. It is infested with gangs and illegals and is simply no safe place for anyone. Nobody who lives wants to be there, except for the lawless who find it a great place to do business.

When Youngest was on drugs, I’d go to Chelsea quite a bit, and I’d drag him out of one dope house or another. It got to where they’d just call him to the door when they’d see me pull up because I’d raise such a ruckus. I had a few guns in my face, but never got shot or beaten. Lucky break! lol! Dope dealers don’t like middle aged white women showing up at their house in the middle of the night, beating on the door and screaming. Ah, well…I’ve never had a natural sense of fear. None of those bastards could hold a candle to the violence my dad could exude by just sitting there. lol!

I never thought I’d get out of that place. But, when I met Exish, he didn’t care where I came from or lived. He treated me like anybody else. He had his fingers in the dope pie, himself, but on a business level, so he was comfy in Chelsea and it just worked out. When he asked me to marry him, there was no way in Hell I was going to say no. Getting out of Chelsea was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I owe him for that to this very day. How do you turn your back on your savior?

Good grief…I’m such an egomaniac…yammering on and on about myself like this. But it’s on my mind because I think that, somewhere back there is the key I need to unlock what’s going on now. I need to fix this…whatever it is. So I can stop using food for comfort and so I can focus on the future. And a million other reasons, too. I don’t want to walk around forever feeling like a piece is missing inside of me. I want to be whole and to feel what normal people feel when they say they’re happy. Because I don’t understand it. I just don’t. It’s like a language that I do not speak or comprehend.

(Insert another three or four paragraphs of bitching and whining and talking about myself here).

I guess I’m gonna get going. Gonna totally try to sleep tonight. I fell asleep in my chair for a few hours this morning. When I woke up, my lower legs were so swollen that I had CANKLES. OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CANKLES. Damn it…

One thought on “Hi, I’m Elle And I’m A Train Wreck. (Welcome, Elle!)

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