Part of the joy in my life comes from a group I call my "Bohemian Brothers and Sisters", the artsy fartsy musicans, painters and potters that I share my muses with.

There is Dave, an amazing musician that despite a lifetime of diabetes, he is a career musician, makes a living at playing guitar ( just like a ringin' a bell), there is Glenn, a photograher who captures the money shot in less than five frames. I have Lia, she moved to Florida from the Pacific Northwest and with her she brought the aroma and eloquent love of coffee. She turned me on to Kona, roasted and freshly ground on the spot and then brewed for a cup of coffee like no other. All the memories I have of this collective has nothing to do with food. What binds us together is our passion for creating be it music, art or the promotion and support of artists in my community. It was my withdrawal from this group and socially that was my first indication that something else was goin on besides aches and pains and a depression leeching into myself that seemed to come from no where beginning about five months after my Lap-Band Surgery.

Where do all the emotions go when you cannot stuff them down?

The question I journaled to myself one day was this:

"what do you do with all of the emotions you use to eat over?"

It opened up a cave of pain that I decided to explore.

From my artist group there are writers and one afternoon amid books and coffee and conversation came a discreet one on one topic between a writer and myself. She said two words: "Lavender Sisters" and Lavender Power and the story of a woman by the name of Angela Shelton.

Angela Shelton was doing a short film documentary on women named Angela Shelton (her name). She was travelling the U.S. and stopping randomly, getting the phone book and looking up the Angela Sheltons all across America. What she discovered in that process was that many of the Angela Sheltons she met had something in common, many of these women had been abused.

This lead to Angela's shifting her documentary theme to that of women and abuse. She documented her story/their stories. From this grew an organziation called Lavender Power which encompasses survivors of Domestic Violence, sexual abuse, rape support, survivor, child abuse, addictions, violence, healing, trauma, and features recognized individuals who reveal their own abuse stories and ways to help overcome the past. Mo'Nique, comedian and actress, was recently featured in Essence where she revealed abuse at the hands of her brother. Her story reads:

The comedian says her brother molested her four times over the course of four years. He often used candy to lure her into the bathroom, where much of the abuse took place.

¢®"He still acts like he doesn't know what I'm talking about. So screw hurting your feelings. You need to get your feelings hurt, and you need to get some help."

"My father was very upset, but it never got mentioned again.

I'll never forget my mother saying, "If" it's true, it will surface again, and I remember thinking, Why would I lie? Why is there even an "if" in this? I was angry with them for so long, because I felt as if they should have seen what was happening

Her brother, she said went on to serve 15 years in prison for sexually abusing another girl and never made amends for the abuse."

As I began to journal my own pain, the hazy memories of my six year old self became clearer and then I knew their names, where they lived on my block, the hook (candy), a pup tent, some boys and myself, a little girl alone, afraid, and fleeing froma pain that left me wetting my pants as I ran through the neighbor's backyard to the safety of my own home. It doesn't matter now that my jumbled words could not find the adult vocabulary to describe to my mother what had happened to me or that soapy hand of hers coming out of the sink of dishes she was washing just long enough to slap my face for ' playing with boys'. The event remained painfully hidden until one Saturday afternoon when I was fooled into believing my friend, the brother of one of the boys, was downstairs waiting for me and he had, I was told, new toys, candy and when i got to the foot of the basement stairs I was coaxed further into the darkness only to find four boys and my friend no where to be found.

Therapy helped. So did joining the Lavender group. So did finding out that 40% of depressed/morbidly obese women had some type of abuse experience. Myself included.

So when we stop stuffing down the pain, it rises to the surface of our memories. From there it goes where? It comes out. It manifests itself still only this time we must face the ugly memories or face a lifetime of relapse into the old ways we relieved ourselves.

for more information:

Lavender Wikipedia http://www.freewebs.com/mypainfulsmiles/lavenderwikapedia.htm

http://www.freewebs.com/mypainfulsmiles/index.htm