Mare

One of the people (shadesong) whose journal I read put together a mini auto-biography of themselves. I am stealing it as a way of forcing myself to write and as a way to be more open. Without (much) further ado, ….Voila!

I’m Mare. No, you cannot have my real name here in cyber-space. I tend to prefer “Mare”, anyway. I am fun, moody, flirty, and quirky. I am human, after all. I am a Mommy. I am a software quality assurance engineer. I am a writer(*). I color, bead (somewhat erratically), cook (very well), read (ALOT), and game (also ALOT). In my most perfect world, I would work as a writer for gaming publishers and magazines.

I am tall – 5’8″ (when I stretch). I used to be quite a bit larger than I am now. I also had a slew of health issues to go along with being so big. In August of 2004 I had gatric bypass surgery (roux en Y). Since that time, I am down 130 #s. I am not sure that I would do the surgery again, given the choice. Not that I am not grateful for the weight loss and subsequent health betterment — just that I would have given more time to the emotional issues that surrounded my weight gain in the first place. Being effectively forced to deal with those issues in a relatively short time has left a few scars. If you cannot “eat” your negative feelings anymore, you have to either actually process those emotions — or you try to find a new way to hide. I suppose it can be likened to a flooding technique. Effective, but ouch. I am trying to actually deal with them so that I am as mentally/emotionally healthy as I can be.

I am a survivor of multiple types of abuse. Due to that, I am reclaiming my psyche bit by bit. It’s hard. It hurts. I wish to use my journal to write of my experiences but the *fear* is still there. That is one of the nastiest parts of being abused…the constant fear of reprisals; even when you intelligently know better. Your head tells you that you are safe…your anxious heart has other ideas, however.

I live more or less in Austin, Texas. More or less because I actually reside in a house in one of the outskirt towns – Leander. Its a rural community that is being slowly Walmarted into submission. I like it well enough except for the commute. My personal preference is to move Northwest sometime in the next couple of years. Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, somewhere! Somewhere far away from Texas. There are chains that bind and chains that hold. Here there are both. The nomad in me wants the discoveries of a new place. The CW (**)in me thinks moving away from my support structure is bad and why are we even contemplating this?!. One of the analysts that occupies one of the corners of my brain thinks that breaking the old patterns would be extremely helpful in healing. Of course, another of them thinks that I need to stay and learn to deal (“Suck it UP, girl!”). Mostly, I just feel that I am done with Texas. I would like to expose myself and my family to a new community type.

I think that’s all I am able to say for now. This excercise was more difficult than I thought it would be.


*-I am a writer.
A part of me wishes to quantify this statement. Yes, I am a writer. I think that I am a pretty good fiction writer. For a variety of reasons, I have problems letting people – who I don’t know and or am not comfortable with – read my stuff. Writing in an online journal is something of an act of bravery for me. For awhile, when I was more anonymous, I was brave and wrote here without fear. Then something happened and I lost the ability. I am trying to regain it. This is my space, my place. I feel that I should be able to write what I want without reprisals. How I feel and what I am able to do are at cross purposes right now. This bio is a step for me to reclaim. I do not want this to be a no-content space. I want this to be a jagged place, a funny space, a harsh read. This should be an honest-to-goodness journal.

Heal, heart.
Heal so that I can write clean again.

**-CW.
Cowardly Lion

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