Cardiogirl 19 percent body fat 100 percent fun


self esteem or the lack thereof


My name is Cardiogirl and I am a people pleaser.

I'd rather be a Pepper. (Remember that Dr. Pepper jingle? "I'm Pepper, he's a Pepper, she's a Pepper. Wouldn't you like to be a Pepper, too?" But, alas, I do not enjoy the elixir known the world over as Dr. Pepper. I'm a Diet Pepsi/Diet Coke kinda gal. I also like long walks on the beach.)

Having children makes you revisit your own childhood in an attempt to figure out how you got off the beaten path, or how you got beaten, depending on your particular history. So in my attempts to boost my own children's self esteem I often wonder how mine got so battered.

I do recall having a brief conversation with my father when I was around 10 or 12 years old. I don't remember the details except him asking me, "Who is the most important person in your life?"

I struggled with the answer. "You?" I questioned back. His lips pressed together in a firm line as if to say, 'Wrong answer, dumb-ass.'

"Mom?" Again, more of a question than an answer.

He finally provided the answer he was looking for. "You are the most important person in your life."


That's all I remember of that exchange. Clearly, it did not make much of a long-lasting impression seeing as I have been through three therapists. But Paula is a keeper; she has been quite helpful.

I'm currently struggling with asserting myself when the situation warrants it. Meaning, I'm not about to go postal over what we put on the pizza, but I had to let my sister Caroline know what I thought of her husband and why I didn't want to go to her house to visit her mother-in-law. It still blows my mind that she even suggested I go over there, particularly when her son Ethan is going to be home and she is so afraid of him that she insists that her husband (punk ass Rob) be in the house when Ethan is in the house.

So I finally sent her an e-mail that outlined what I thought and how I am still angry at Rob and there is nothing he can do to change the situation. I do not want to be around him whether other people are around or not.

I sent that e-mail yesterday (after I procrastinated by taking a shower and cleaning the kitchen). Then the same day around noon, the mail man dropped off a box of Christmas goodies from Caroline.

Hmm, this is awkward. I hate your husband but thanks for the candy! She sent the box of stuff on Monday, a day before I sent the e-mail.

So I sent her an e-mail back thanking her for her kind gift and she did respond with a lot of unrelated news. Her only reference regarding my page-long e-mail about my current angst was this:

"In a strange way, I'm glad our family is estranged now. This gives me a layer of protection from toxic levels and frees me up to do more of God's work."

Alrighty, then.

It feels better this time to say what I am feeling rather than gnaw my own arm off. But it is a strange feeling having two functional arms and a clear mind rather than one bloody stump on the floor and a jumbled up psyche.


2006-12-21 at 8:05 a.m.

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