Weight Loss Information
How to REALLY lose that weight
My Story
This is just a brief synopsis of who I am and the struggles I face to achieve my weight loss goals.
My name
is Michele, and I'm 33 years young. In college, I was an exchange student
in Japan for one year, and while I was there, I met a man from Yemen.
Two weeks after I got back to the States, this Yemeni, Ashraf, came to
the States to see me. Unable to support him, I married him right away
so he could get a green card and a job. Within the first month, I found
out I was pregnant. As soon as we got married, Ashraf changed from a kind,
charming man into an abusive, controlling man. I thought, "Well,
I'll just put up with it until I graduate from college". Before I
graduated, though, he was arrested for domestic violence after he hit
me at a public mall. He got out of jail, and I went to a battered women's
shelter. Two weeks later, however, he got a letter from the Immigration
Service saying that he was being deported because of his domestic violence
conviction. He got in touch with me and begged me to come home, saying that we needed to fight this thing together. I felt bad for him, feeling that I had caused this whole thing, so I moved back home.
After moving back home, things were worse than ever, but I said to myself, "I'll just stay til this whole deportation thing is over." But years went by, and nothing happened. As the situation at home got worse, I became more and more depressed. He took away all my power, and he controlled everything. He controlled all the money. If I dressed the kids, he would yell at me and tell me I did it wrong, and make me re-dress them over and over. If I did their hair, he would yell and do it over. He threatened to kill me several times. I have no family, and he wouldn't let me out of the house, so I had no friends, either. I was stuck. He did the grocery shopping. Little by little, he took away all my power and made me believe that I was stupid and inept (I'm in Mensa - the High-IQ society). I became severely depressed.
In Feb. 2002, I tried to kill myself and wound up in a psychiatric hospital. I repeated the attempt in Aug. 2002 and again found myself in a psychiatric hospital. As a child, I was adopted, and the people who adopted me beat me up every day. When I was a junior in high school, I left and lived on the streets for a year before I could get enough money together to get my own apartment. I never saw them again. So at this point, all I had was Ashraf. On Oct. 23, 2002, Ashraf went to work at 9 a.m. A half-hour later, I got a call saying, This is the INS< and we have your husband in custody. We're bringing your van back". Five minutes later, 6 FBI agents showed up at my door and asked if they could come in and search my house, saying they believed my husband was linked to Al-Qaeda. I let them in, and they stayed at my house all day.
When Ashraf was gone, I cried and cried for a month. I had no idea how to take control of everything and take care of my kids. He never let me do anything with my kids, so they had no idea that they were now supposed to listen to me. It took them three months to settle down and start listening to me. I was totally scared, feeling that I was too inept to do anything. Besides that, there was no money in the bank, and I had no job. I started receiving $543/month from Social Security Disability, from the times I spent in the hospital. But that was my only income now. I was just plain terrified.
On June 2, 2003, I was severely depressed. I ran out of my anti-depressant medications, and I became like a zombie - unable to react to anything. Children's Services visited my house and said I wasn't able to take care of my kids since I was so depressed. That night, 3 police officers arrived at my door. They said, "We have orders to take you to the hospital. You can come with us, or we can put you in handcuffs and take you that way. Which would you prefer?" I said, "I can't. I have three children sleeping upstairs." They said, "We have two children's services workers outside who are going to take care of your children. Come with us." So I went with them, and I spent the next two months in the hospital, where I sat and gained an additional 15 pounds.
I got out of the hospital on Aug. 5, 2003. I am now taking 6 months worth of parenting classes and peaceful solutions classes (for wives of domestic violence situations). They say when I complete that, I will be able to get my mids back. I visit my kids one hour per week, on Fridays. I miss them so much. I'm now trying to take control of my life and better myself. I still don't have a job yet, so I'm pretty poor. I'm starting with trying to lose weight and build some self-esteem. I still have no friends and no family, so I'm pretty lonely. Ashraf has been in jail for almost a year now. He calls me all the time and says, "I'm sorry. When I get out, things will be different." I'm leary about believing him, though, since I've heard that story everytime I've left him before. (I stayed in battered women's shelters twice and left one other time). I'm still struggling with what to do if he gets out. I don't know if he's going to get out or if he's going to get deported.
So, that's my story. If you want to chat, email me! I could use some company!