I Don’t Eat Pizza anymore….

When I was twelve years old my whole entire world changed.  It’s only been within the last few years that I have been able to be honest with myself and tell my truth of where I have been.  I am a survivor of childhood rape and molestation.

In 2011, I stopped eating pizza.  Actually, I stopped eating period.  I was unable to keep any food down.  I was petrified and believed I would starve to death.  When I would think of food, or attempt to eat food I would hit the bathroom running.  I was disgusted  and I could not figure it out.  I became a semi vegetarian for a period of six months.  It was the most expensive and time-consuming transition I had to make.

I learned how to eat without meat in my diet.  My (cheating ***hole) experimented with different recipes in order to keep me healthy.  My new vegetarian experience brought the love of my life and I closer together.  It takes a lot to come up with meals when one of you is totally disgusted by the thought of eating.

I thought I had allergies to something I was eating.  I would be hungry and when I went to make something  or to eat something,  my stomach just rejected the idea and stated quite loudly it was not eating anything at that moment.  I started from scratch and slowly reintroduced my favourite foods to my diet in order to find out what was making me feel anxious and disgusted when I ate.

Finally, it came to biting into a slice of pizza.  I loved the smell and the taste of pizza.  I missed being able to enjoy a delicious hot slice of pizza, with it grease dripping on my finger tips.  I had been anxiously awaiting for the opportunity for months and it was here.  I was tired of eating beans, rice and fish.  It was a Friday night and I had been able to eat whatever I wanted to eat at this point, without feeling sick to my stomach.

I couldn’t do it.  I took a bite of the pizza and I began to chew what was in my mouth.  I knew there was no way that this was going to work.  I put my dish aside and made my way, rather quickly to the toilet and began to vomit.  With sweat dripping off my face and sitting on the floor of the bathroom, I knew that I had to get over my love of pizza now.

I couldn’t understand it.  The thought of eating pizza literally made me sick to my stomach.  That night as my (cheating ***hole) lay beside me sleeping, I kept thinking about why all of a sudden I could not eat pizza.  After all, I have eaten pizza and loved it all of my life.

Then it came to me.  I lay there stunned but a bit relieved that all the questions I had, were being answered.  I rolled over and touched the top of (cheating ***hole)‘s head to wake him up without him knowing it was deliberate.  He moaned and rolled over on his back and muttered something that gave me an opening to have a deep conversation with him.  “I know why, I can’t eat pizza.” I whispered as I snuggled in close to him.

The (cheating ***hole) called me babe(boy do I miss that word from his lips) and asked me why.  I began to whisper a little louder now.  “Because I was eating pizza when I was raped!”  It was around this time that I had went to see a counsellor because (cheating ***hole) believed that all our relationship problems began and ended with me. And I believed him.

My (cheating ***hole) was quiet for what seemed like eternity.  He sat up and said he needed to have a cigarette.  We got dressed and made our way down the stairs in silence.  He handed me a cigarette and took one for himself.  He looked at me with those eyes that always made me weak at the knees. We sat outside, it was still dark out and the only light we  had were the street lights.

We didn’t say anything to each other. I felt rather silly waking him up to tell him about my pizza and rape story.  I didn’t know what came over me to wake him up in the middle of the night.  He was probably ticked off at me at this point.  I tried to sneak a look at what his face would tell me, but the street lights was not shining on his face.

Finally, (cheating ***hole) grabbed my hands in his.  “It makes sense, babe.”  He said.  I didn’t respond.  I sat there in darkness, with the love of my life  sitting next to me, holding my hands and my life in his.

“I hate that this happened to you.  I wish I could find those bastards and kill them.  I wish that I could make your pain go away.”  He said.  He took a drag off his cigarette and I noticed that one of his legs were shaking.  I knew he was mad because he only did this when he was upset.  We both sat in silence.

My tears began to roll down my cheeks.  I didn’t want to start crying loud enough so that he could hear me.  After all these years, I hated to cry in front of him.  I loved every word he just said to me and I wished that someone else could carry this load I had.  I didn’t want it to be him, it wouldn’t be fair.

“I can’t eat pizza anymore.” I said. “It makes me feel sick to my stomach.  I hate the way it sits in my mouth.  I was eating pizza when they raped me.  When I woke up, it was still in my mouth.  I just can’t eat pizza anymore and I want to.”

I finished talking and sat there holding back all my emotions.  I really wanted to cry and it was getting hard holding it all in.

He looked over at me and pulled me in closer.  I put my head on his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.  We continued smoking our cigarettes while I continued crying and he protected me.

It took another two years for me to sit in front of a therapist and tell her “I don’t eat pizza anymore.”

 Photo creditsexual abuse

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6 thoughts on “I Don’t Eat Pizza anymore….”

  1. I am a survivor myself of childhood rape and molestation. There are moments in my life when the event will just pop into my head. I don’t know what to say right now, except I am sorry that you can’t eat pizza anymore. But, I think there will be a day that you will be able to. Where you won’t let what happened to you dictate your like or dislike of pizza. What happened to you had nothing to do with you in the sense it wasn’t your fault. It was someone else. Don’t let them damage anymore of your life than they already did. Take the power back. Believe it or not blogging about it will help and reaffirmations help as well. “I will enjoy my life, I will enjoy pizza again. I am so worth it.” It sounds corny, but it does help. At least it is something that is helping me.

    1. Thank for reading and your kind words. It took 27 years for me to say it out loud that what happened to me wasn’t my fault. I still love the smell of pizza to this day. Maybe one day, I all enjoy it again. Maybe one day, you will read a post titled “I just ate a slice of pizza…” until then, thank you. From one survivor to another

  2. You wrote this post beautifully, bringing the readers right there with you. I’m so glad he was there for you that night, even though that obviously changed at some point. I like the creative ways you named him.

    I’m glad you are doing your therapy and believe that there will be a day when you will be able to eat pizza again without the flashbacks that are going with it now.

    You are brave and you are talented.

    1. Thank you for reading my post. I feel humbled that you commented on what I wrote. As I wrote it, there were lots of emotions and thoughts going through my head. You think that you are over something but when it still brings you pain, you know you still have a ways to go. As for the ex, yes I had to come up with creative names as calling him by his real name without his permission isn’t allowed: :). He will always have that spot in my heart that (cheating ***hole). He was the first person I ever told about being raped as a child. Thanks again for reading

  3. I like that, “no name”. People don’t really understand the impact that their cheating has on people. I remember when I found out, it was like my entire foundation was shaken. I already had minimal trust in people at that point and when I found out all his defeat, it was like I was a little kid again learning to walk, holding on to furniture and learning to trust those in front of me that wanted to help me walk. To me cheating is sick and depraved

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