http://www.opendiary.com/entrylist.asp?authorcode=D648220 The Diary of Conflicted Abbey http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D648220&entry=10004 So, I have been talking to an old friend of mine via the internet... some pretty heated topics... and I call him today and he seems to be so much different than I remember... he seems so much nicer, and more like a kid... I have gotten too damn old... I am 24.  He spole fondly of his video games, and kept calling me dude.  It feels so unjust that I am the oldest 24 year old I know... Tue, 25 Apr 2006 0:00:01 GMT http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D648220&entry=10003 <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">04-11-2006</div> <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">My hand was on the mouse, I was working. Instead of him asking for permission to use my mouse, he covered my hand with his. He leaned over me, stood so close; I could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. When it was nearly time for him to leave, I called him back to look at one last error. He was apologetic that I was booted off the system. I turned to him and accused him of stealing the pen he was holding. He held it out for me to get and when I reached for it, he grabbed my wrist gently and wrote “Hello!” on the back of my hand.  We are without computer problems, so I will probably never get to see him again, which is probably for the best. I was willing to risk my marriage to take a chance on Chris ******. It’s a freakin’ shame though, but God is guiding my life on this. The thing is, Chris, he sends mixed signals, running hot and cold. We talk about him marriage, but he fails to tell me about his girlfriend, only mentioning her when he is doped up on Percocet. He rested his hands on my shoulders once when there was no reason to touch me other than to touch me. I call him my friend, but its complicated. Truth be told, I am so attracted to him, but what could he ever want with a fat lard ass like me?? I look at myself and I know I am disgusting. I sometime wish that I could develop an anorexic eating disorder so I wasn’t so damn fat. I weigh 230lbs… I mean that is not pretty and not attractive at all. I am a compulsive over eater. I seek food to comfort my insecurities about my weight, which are increased by eating. It is a vicious cycle.</div> <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">I want to know what it is like to kiss someone again. That excited feeling has long since left my marriage. I want to know how it feels to be in the arms of a man. The only man I have ever been with is Alex, and then there was that bastard of a father who molested me and made me the way I am. I turned to food when my dad turned to touching me. It isn’t only his fault, but it sure didn’t help. If we were a happy family, and he had never molested me, then I would have probably grown up like my mother (skinny as a freaking rail until she too turned to food for escape from him). I just wish sometimes that I didn’t have to worry about being fat… or losing my teeth. I am 24, and I have already lost two of my bottom teeth. There are at least 3 more that need to go, and one of my nearly front teeth on the top is sick, and might be dead already. I am so afraid. I might kill myself, or at least I think sometimes I would be better off.  I will never be 150lbs. I will never have pretty white teeth that are healthy. Sometimes the panic in my chest is too much to bear and I can’t stand it anymore. Sometime I wish I could gather the nerve to take enough pills to go to sleep and never wake up again. Sometimes I wish that a car would come crashing through mine (but not be my fault) and kill me instantaneously. Sometimes I wish that terrorist would attack my building and I would be shot and die as quickly and cleanly as possible. Sometimes, I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes all I see is blackness.</div> <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">Manic Depression and Bi-Polar Disorder runs rampant in my family, and I am afraid to voice any of my concerns because then everyone might guess. I am sicker than I let on to be. I will be the first to admit I need help. I have the Antidepressants in my car, but I never take them. Perhaps, a Xanax retreat is what I need to snap out of this funk that I am. Maybe it is just the full moon that is rising in the sky. Maybe it is because I am on the fist period that I have gotten since my last 11-15-2005. Today is day three. </div> <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">I just don’t know what I want. Sometimes, I am so proud that MY LOVER is all I have ever known, and that I have been a faithful wife to him. Then there are the days that I wish Chris would come into the office, ask me a question or for help that would draw me away from my coworkers. I would be standing there, both of us crouched down to look at the server and he would slip his hand behind my head and just kiss me. I would push him away after a moment, breathless and stand up. I would tell him something, like that’s not cool, and he would kiss me again, pinning me hard against the wall, my hands would go to his shoulders, at first as if I was struggling with him, then to draw him in. That is all I want, a passionate kiss with someone other than MY LOVER that I am attracted to. I know it is wrong to even entertain thoughts like that, but I can’t help it. I am so disappointed that I will probably never see him again. God has a reason for everything, so that is how it is. I want to loose this weight, and that way I will be a knock out when and if I ever see him again.</div> <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">04-21-06</div> <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">He came into the office today, I knew he was coming. I mean, it was me, after all, that had been sabotaging the computer systems for weeks. It was easy, but I HAVE to knock it off, no matter how badly I want to see him. He has a girlfriend, I have a husband. I got him in trouble with his co-worker, because he told him boss he would be at our work at 9 AM, Craig told me @ 9AM Chris would be there. We had printing problems, and I called the help desk 2x and the emergency line 1x. Finally mad, I emailed Craig and told him that Chris told me that it would be 10:00-10:15 before he got there. I was grumpy in the email. I guess Craig chewed Chris out, who in turn call me up angry. Ok, I started the email out I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. I mean, there was some miscommunication between either Chris and Craig, Craig and me, or Chris and me. Oh what a triangle. Incidentally, it was Craig and not Chris that I became infatuated with first. Chris may have the looks, but I find Craig’s personality more appealing. Anyway, Chris finally gets to my office and I show him the bruises on the palms of my hand where I fell (not the real story, but I will never admit the real story). He actually touched my hand ever so softly. I wish it could have lasted forever. He asked me to help him remove all of the stuff from the closet, and at the end, I checked the room to make sure that it would work out for us. I closed the door to see if it would close with a person in there. I should have stayed in the room with me. Maybe, he would have kissed me. I mean there HAS to be something there.  I mean I know how I feel when he is around. I am so infatuated with him. I have it bad for him. The real question is: Am I infatuated with him because it is him, or is it because he happened to be the one that walked through the door? I guess only God knows. I am married, and I don’t want to ruin that, but I think I sold myself short settling for just one guy… One guy, four kisses… that is all I have to think about. It has been so long since I have kissed in a heated sort of way. I am ashamed to say, I am not as attracted to my husband as I once was. We have both gotten fat and flabby, but every time we kiss, every time we have sex, I have run thoughts through my head to get off, or at least fake that I am getting off. I shouldn’t have sold myself short on all of the experiences that there are to offer.</div> <div style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">I finally got Chris to email me back, but it was regarding a general computer question. I am so stupid. I mean, I am smart enough to see that he doesn’t want to be friends with me. I know it seems obsessive, but I really want him to email me. I want to talk to him. I want to kiss him… shit, I have something wrong with me. I mean it is SO obvious that he doesn’t want to be with me. I think I might start an anymous web program so that I can confess this to the world, and still be safe.</div> Tue, 25 Apr 2006 0:00:01 GMT http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D648220&entry=10002 <p>This is part 2 of The History of Abbey</p> <p>In my junior year, I was finally sucessful at achieving a real pregnancy.  I found out while I was on vacation with my boyfriend and his family.  The worse part was coming home and telling Brenda.  She was rightfully upset, and her and her then husband, Igor*, were concerned for my future.  "He will leave you" they said.  "You will never finish school" they said.  "You will never ammount to anything" they said.  One rainy afternoon, just days after I announced that I was pregnant, Brenda and I were sitting on the porch of the house she and Igpr shared and she started in with the "You don't have to have this baby" crap again.  Never once did she mention adoption, it was all or nothing.  I finally had had it.  I had come to my end point.  I stood there and looked at her.  With more nerve than I have ever had, I told her in a firm voice.  "If you ever mention an abortion to me again, then I will walk right out that door and you will NEVER see me or my child again.  Do I make myself clear?".  I was serious.  That was the last time that she mentioned abortion to me again.</p> <p>Time passed, and I started my senior year.  I was forced to have a meeting with the councilor at the school I was attended to discuss my options.  No one really expected much of me in terms of seriously graduating.  My councilor was like- Don't expect special treatment.  "I don't."  I tried to work it out so that I would only have to attend 2 classes a day my final semester, Physics and English, early in the morning so that I could continue school.  "I'm sorry, but to continue at our school, you would have to be enrolled for an entire day."  That was stupid.  By second semester, I only needed 1/2 a credit to graduate, and just the two classes.  I would graduate a half of a credit ahead, and with a college prep diploma.  The councilor made it clear.  No exceptions.  They were not willing to work with me on this.</p> <p>Brenda came to me shortly after I started that school year.  Igor wanted me out by the time I turned 18 or the baby was born, which ever happened first.  I took it well and moved out just before Winter break.  </p> <p>During Winter break, I gave birth to a baby boy.  He was 7# 6.6oz, and had jet black hair.  He was beautiful.  I named him after his father.</p> <p>By the grace of God, I met someone who put me in connection with a special alternative school, complete with a parenting program.  My original school tried to fight me and say that I couldn't withdrawl myself from school without a parent's signature.  "I am 18 years old, a legal adult, and already someone's parent.  I know my rights as an adult."  Needless to say, they let me withdrawl.  I would attend four hours a day for 6 weeks (2 2hr classes a day), Monday thru Thursday, and my baby would be in the nursery there at the school.  I started in March, and ended in May.  My physics teacher pulled me aside and told me even if I didn't take the final, I would graduate from his class with a decent grade, I was that good.  I opted to take the final.  My GPA was 3.7 when I graduated.  Upon learning of my high GPA, my previous school insist that I walk with them, that I graduate with them.  I actually laughed at them.</p> <p>"Are you kdding?  When you thought that I would not suceed, you wanted nothing to do with me.  Now that I am valuable, you want me?  I don't think so."</p> <p>After graduating, I had to move in with my boyfriend's family.  I hated almost every moment of it.  I fought with his stepfather, because he was a lot like Carl.  A drunk and a looser.  Interestingly enough, I stayed the weekends at Carl's house.  He gave me gas money, and his new wife, Jessica*, was great.  They loved the baby.  They never had children of their own.</p> <p>I was pregnant again, and that following winter, I gave birth to another baby boy.  I named him Kevin*.  He was 7# 12.9oz, and also had black hair.  Prior to his birth, I worked the Christmas rush at TRU to save up and get the hell out of the inlaws.  I had married my baby's father finally.  I refused to give birth and bring the baby home to their trailer.</p> <p>Time passed, and I got a job.  And another.  And another until I got a job at MedicalSystems A*.  I worked there a year and a half, in which time, I got pregnant again.  Shortly after my 21st birthday, I gave birth to another baby boy.  I named him Larry*, and he weighed 6# 10.9 oz.  He too had black hair.  Shortly after going back to MedicalSystems A, I decide that it was NOT the company for me.  I found another job in town, MedSystems B*.</p> <p>I got pregnant, again.  Shortly after my 23rd birthday, I gave birth to my daughter.  She was beautiful and I was beside myself.  Her name is Maggie*, and she weighed 7#6.1oz.  She had the biggest cheeks I have ever seen on a baby, and jet black hair.</p> <p>I have been at MedSystems B for nearly 3 years now, and I love it.  So this is where my diary picks up...</p> Sat, 22 Apr 2006 0:00:01 GMT http://www.opendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=D648220&entry=10001 <p>This is a little history on me before I begin transfering and compiling my diary.  I am in my twenties, and I am in a serious relationship with a wonderful man.  This story begins back though to two years before I was born.  My mother, Brenda*, was dating a man.  She was engaged to be married to him.  She got pregnant.  Brenda and her fiancee discussed their options, and I imagine either they screwed around a lot trying to decide, or she held off telling him, because as I have been told, she could already feel the baby when she went in for an abortion.  She knew it was a boy.  It was an illegal abortion, she was five or so months already.  This was in the late seventies.  The week after she aborted my older brother, her fiancee kicked her out.  Then she met my dad, Carl*, who she worked with.  They were married in 1980, and I was born a little while later.  They name me Abbey*.  I was the replacement baby for my mother, but I was a girl, so they turned around and had another child, my brother Daniel*.  Daniel and I grew older and older, and the fighting between Carl and Brenda got worse and worse.  Carl would beat Brenda, leaving bruises all over her.  He was a drunk.  At some point, they both cheated on eachother, over and over again.  Carl has another daughter, not too much younger than me, Elena*, that he denies to this day.  I remember my mom telling me about her once.  Anyway, when I was 6-7, Brenda gave birth to a bouncing baby boy named Gary*.   The fighting, hitting, etc continued.</p> <p>Then one evening when I was 10, Brenda, Carl, Daniel and I were all swimming in our pool in the dark, naked.  Brenda was working the night shift, so she got out of the pool and left to got to work.  Daniel and I were both sexually innocent, so swimming naked with our parents seemed like the natural thing to do.  Carl had told us over and over that what we do in our house and our yard is our business and no one elses.  We were not to tell.  No problem.  At that point, I still had a positive attitude about my body.  Well, back to that first summer evening.  Half of our pool was bathed in the orange light of the street light, and have was in the shadow of the house.  Carl was leaning against the edge of the pool, drinking a beer (always the kind in a glass bottle) and smoking a cigarette.  He was in the shadow, Daniel was in the light and I was just swimming and swimming.  Carl wrapped his arms around me, no cause for alarm, because he was my father, and he loved me.  I had my back to his chest, treading water.  His arm was around me so that I wouldn't sink.  It wasn't until he touched me that I realized that this was all wrong.  I could feel him behind me, with all that comes along with a man who is turned on.  He kept whispering to me, 'this feels good, doesn't it?'.  I didn't know what to say.  </p> <p>Later that night, Daniel was asleep on the couch and my father called me to him.  He wanted to show me something.  There, in the middle of the living room, just feet from a sleeping Daniel, my father gathered me on his lap and explained to me about the birds and the bees.  He was naked, he was erect.  He showed me where his scars were from his vasectomy.  He told me that it kept him from being able to have any more children.</p> <p>Over the course of that summer, my father molested me.  He would do it in the pool mostly.  I got to be ashamed of my body, covering up with a t-shirt while we all swam.  I got to kicking into the pool, trying to hit him in the privates, trying to hurt him.  I remember early one Saturday, Brenda had gone to work and Carl woke me up.  He had me go swimming naked with him in that early morning.  He brought me back to his bed because I was shivering, and he molested me again.  Another time, we went on vacation.  One night we went fishing at night and he made me take my shirt off, despite I really didn't have even breast buds yet.  The next night, Brenda and Daniel went night fishing.  Daddy locked the door to the camper and had me undress and lay down on the bed.  He began touching and massaging me everywhere.   Gary was asleep just a few feet from the scene.  Everytime he would touch me, he'd lick or taste his fingers.  He used his saliva when I was too dry.  At 10 yrs old, I came really close to an all out fit.  My legs were trembling, and I had this intense urge.  He kept hitting this spot and my whole body would nearly convulse.  Finally, I told him I had to use the bathroom.</p> <p>Hesitantly, he allowed me to put a night gown on and go, but I was not allowed to wear panties.  I sat there in the bathroom thinking, 'Oh my god.  My dad is molesting me.'  I am pretty sure that I had never heard that word before, but the words popped into my head.</p> <p>Not long after that, Brenda found out.  She and he were already heading for divorce.  That was just the final straw.  I had to go to counciling, but at that point it was too late.  The damage had been done.  I turned to food and unhealthy habits to dull the pain of being betrayed by the man that was supposed to protect me above all.</p> <p>The greatest injustice, he didn't get so much as a slap on the wrist.  His defence, he was drunk and thought it was Brenda.  How lame is that, and everyone believed him.  It was at that moment in time that I knew that I could never have a healthy relationship with them.</p> <p>Brenda and Carl's marriage was officially disolved on my 11th birthday, just for them to be reunited and relocated before my 12th birthday.  We moved one state north to escape the rumors that were now circulating our tiny town.  No one really believed Carl was capable of molesting the daughter that he so lovingly doted on.  It was determined that the typical behavior when it happens like it did between Carl and me was that he would have ended up having sex with me.  My first time could have been with my father, and from the way the councilor was talking, we were close.  He had already been in the process of priming me for the act, entering with his finger just so far, and trying to give me an Orgasm.  All at 10 yrs old.</p> <p>So now in a new state, we started over.  It was the five of us, and I became unbearable.  I was hurting and betrayed.  She actually left me in his care for a week while she, Daniel and Gary went out of state.  Nothing happened, he wouldn't even really acknowledge my presence anymore.  We moved again to a new house.  </p> <p>I turned 14, and received my first french kiss from the son of a pastor.  He only dated me because I had big boobs.  They are much bigger now.  Too bad.  Then there was boyfriend number two later that year (just beofre summer).  We spent most of the little time we dated with him laying on top of me french kissing and grinding against me with his boney hips.  He had already had sex, and I was ready.  Life went on and to everyone, we were one happy family.</p> <p>On the inside, it was different.  Carl was cheating on Brenda.  I don't remember exactly how it happened, but Brenda found out.  They were already divorced.  Now he was moving our.  She warned me ahead of time, and then the axe fell, and he announced it.  I remember standing in our kitchen thinking, what the hell.  He turned to Brenda and said, see, they don't care.  I was already in tears.  I shouted at them.  "I don't need this right before I start my first year of high school."</p> <p>Between BF#2 and BF#3, there was this really sweet guy named Henry*.  We used to make out in the afternoons at his house.  He lived across the field from where I was living.  We'd kiss, him opening his mouth too wide, and his hand would nearly always be up the back of my shirt.  He'd nearly always be straddling me or one of my legs.  We would be grinding against eachother, and once, I made him go right there in his pants from all the friction.  I remember running home through the field with a wet spot on the theigh of my jeans.</p> <p>I had surgery that November.  I was already dating BF#3.</p> <p>I was still friends with Henry when I started dating BF#3, Joshua*.  Joshua french kissed me right here on the first date and next thing I knew, we were always touching eachother inappropriated for a 15yr old boy and a 14yr old girl.  A month and a half after we started dating, we had sex for the first time.  We did it over and over again whenever and where ever we could.  A month and a half after I turned 15 I was pregnant.  One week later, by means of a doctor, I was no longer pregnant.  I refused the meds, feeling I should die or at least suffer.  After all, I had been a coward.  I had killed my own off spring.  I murder my child because I was weak and I was scared.</p> <p>I went away to my grandparents house the summer of 15.  While I was gone, BF#3 cheated on me.</p> <p>I faked 2 pregnancy and miscarriages the year of 16.  I was desperate.  It was wrong, ang I was probably just really late and never pregnant.  I wanted a baby.  I wanted to replace the baby that I had killed, much like my mom had done with me.</p> <p> </p> <p>That's enough pain for me now.</p> Fri, 21 Apr 2006 0:00:01 GMT