A bad day

**Usually I write in a very controlled way. I write on my good days, and although I access sadness and badness and evil, I do it in a way that I can manage easily without things getting out of control. Yesterday things were out of control. I was having a bad day and a bad moment of despair and crying into my pillow and thoughts just exploding all over the room and I thought, you know what? I need to write this down. If I can’t write down the darkness and disorganised-ness what am I really showing you of the “real” diseased me? So this is raw and I apologise if it’s too much of anything. By the time I am writing this, things have been sorted out and we’re back on track. There’s still the diet thing, I’ll get to that another day, but for now here is the thoughts as they spilled out of my head in my crying despair**

Stayingquiet

I’m the Monster. The one under your bed. The one that jumps out and scares small children and large adults alike. The obese monster, morbidly obese by the books. The one who side on, at a glance, could be confused with a large tree trunk or concrete pylon! Who has been asked TWICE this week if she’s too far into her pregnancy to fly! And another two times in that same week if she’s pregnant, once before a massage and once before a dress fitting. Cos that’s relaxing!

I’m the Destroyer. I start with memory foam beds and crush the memory and the foam out of them. I move onto brand new leather couches and triple my husband’s imprint in the first 3 months. Time to change sides! Then I grind the life out of said husband until he doesn’t care, or hurts so much from caring that he leaves. Well that’s my mental image of how this goes, in any case, and I’ve had a couple physical images to assist with the mental image; that’s the extent of his distress.

I break laptops, drop mobile phones, spill anything remotely liquid, trip over power cords ruining plug connections, slip down inclines, fall over pebbles, draw ink on bedspreads, stretch clothes in the wash,  wrench roof racks and bikes off the car roof bending the metal and stripping paint off bikes and car alike!

I’m fat, so fat, so very very fat and it’s ruining everything. I’m told. It’s hard to see from the inside. I’m ruining my marriage by being fat. I lost my job from the consequences of being fat. I’m slow, I’m too slow, I need to lose weight, I need to speed up, I need to change, change, change change, stop being me, be someone else. Someone not fat and not slow who isn’t ruining everything.

My husband is fed up. And why wouldn’t he be? 3 years of me being sick, 16months of being off work before, 9 months in a job and here we are, back at the beginning. And if I just lost weight it would fix everything. I wouldn’t be ruining the couch, wrecking the bed, sitting at home doing nothing. If only I would lose weight. Because it’s difficult for him, me being fat. Every day it’s hard for him, me being fat, he tells me. It’s hard on him. I’m fat and it’s hard. He says we can’t do things, be things because of it. It’s fair for him to ask me to lose weight, because he has to deal with it too. And me not losing weight makes him think I’m not trying, I’m not trying for us. Can’t I do it for him? Can’t I lose weight for him? If I won’t do it for myself. It’s been 6 weeks. 6 weeks since I saw the dietician and starting a food diary. And I haven’t lose any weight. Why? Because I’ve been snacking. Why? Because I eat in emotional situations. So instead I’m meant to be dealing with my emotion. Here you are, here is my emotion. I’m dealing with it.

thunder inside

I hate to cry. Crying is weak. I know, I know; I shouldn’t say that. Especially me, advocating for mental health. But to me it’s weak, I hate it, and I avoid it. But here it comes, crying, because of my diet. If I cry, I don’t store and if I don’t store, I don’t eat because of the store. Apparently. So I’ve cried twice since starting my diet.

I want to see that you’re putting in an effort. But you won’t see it; change is gradual and you don’t see weight loss for a while, a good long while. So what do you want to see? It’s such a lot of pressure, proving something. Proving you did, defending that you didn’t; proof. I’m trying. But I want to see that you’re trying. Well I am trying. Well how can I see that you’re trying? It goes round and round.

And now, one in the bed and the other one said I can’t stand this anymore. Is it cold? How cold? Who cares, I’m storming out. And I’m crying my tears because I have to put in an effort and one can’t bear it and the other can’t wear it, and it’s a mess. Royally a mess. What to a fix? I promise sincerely I will truly really do what I’m told, and I will make the numbers go down, and I will make them keep going down. And then we will live happily ever after because I’ll be able to energetically walk everywhere that I’m asked to walk, and I’ll enjoy physical activity and my fatness won’t slow me down and make me sluggish and I’ll be fixed. And if my condition and cures continue to prevent that from ever being realized? Well at least I’ll be skinny. Life is better when you’re skinny. Time for my daily walk and my diet jelly. Adieu.

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Pregnancy

What could I do, I had to like it! It just made me think of myself, in a kind of funny.kind of truthful way!, gorilla, grass

What could I do, I had to like it! It just made me think of myself, in a kind of funny.kind of truthful way!

This popped up in my Facebook feed the other day from Brindabella and I actually laughed out loud! The expression ‘lol’ is so overused online that it has lost all meaning, but this is one situation where it was actually appropriate.

I laughed because over a few months I gradually increased in weight  until suddenly one day I looked in the mirror and realised I looked like this! Not a fun realisation! I mentioned it to my hubby and he agreed that he’d thought for a while now that I looked pregnant! Always helpful but he was kind about it. But its the truth so what can you do.

I should clarify here that I’m not pregnant; the weight is due to indulgence, medication side effects and the symptoms of mental illness. Just to be clear.

But anyway, somehow being that shape and seeing this gorilla translates to funny in my brain…not sure why, but I guess it’s amusing to see yourself mirrored in another species, and to see a big round belly, flabby arms and a double chin on a cute-ish animal looking equally unhappy about the situation!

The weird thing is, I know I’m overweight to the point of exploding over the obese line. But somehow my brain hasn’t caught up. Maybe because it happened so fast and unexpectedly, maybe because I’m in denial a bit…not sure why. I kind of knew already that my brain was lagging behind, but it became most apparent when I was in Thailand recently. Sitting on the boat in just my bathers, swimming in the pool, jumping off the boat into the water carefree and happy in front of everyone else, walking around at lunchtime feeling completely comfortable with my body the whole time. Which was a really nice feeling instead of hating it and wanting it to be different.

Until…I looked back and saw the photos! My big round tummy, double chin, fat cheeks and eyes deep in puffy sockets…ergh! Then I was not happy! Then I was not comfortable with my figure! Photos are kind of the cold hard truth that shoot you down out of your dreamy sky and bring you down with a big hard bang to reality!

I can kind of understand the idea behind body dysmorphic disorder now. I don’t have it and I’m not suggesting I do…but the brain is powerful and can really twist reality sometimes. To be one way, and consider yourself to be another way is…well in this case it’s kind to me to a point, but I guess when it comes to addiction or something like that it is very unhelpful, because you think you’re okay when really you are not. It can be unhelpful to me too I suppose, because when I’m looking at a block of chocolate I think it’ll be okay instead of considering my obesity and how chocolate is really not okay!

Here’s the other thing. When I was first really unwell, the psychologist and the doctor and all the self help websites told me to do nice things to and for myself to help me feel just a bit better. Have a bath, eat your favourite food, watch your favourite show, go to your favourite place either physically or shut your eyes and imagine you are there. So chocolate, a hot chocolate, a bowl of yoghurt…whatever you love, was okay to eat anytime and all the time to help get you through the difficult days.

Except there was no limit put on that habit…so I just kept going and going. A limit would have been good, but realistically I was unwell for months while we tried fluoxetine, venlafaxine, sertraline, sertraline plus mirtazepine, sertraline plus quetiapine, desvenlafaxine plus quetiapine, reboxetine plus quetiapine and full circle to venlafaxine plus quetiapine and finally venlafaxine plus quetiapine plus lithium, the best yet! All of those antidepressants working a bit or not much, until finally the correct diagnosis of bipolar and the life-changing prescription of lithium.

And still the end date for self indulgence hasn’t been set.

I’m better; I’m not back to where I’d like to be. I have more energy; but still need my daily naps. I have more resilience; but some days I just need something external to make me feel better. I’m trying to cut down on my treats and snacks; but it’s hard!

And here’s my shortlist of how fatness that looks like pregnancy is different to pregnancy:

1) In pregnancy, you know what to expect and you prepare your body. You moisturise and Bio-oil your belly to prevent stretch marks. In fatness, stretch marks pop up out of the blue completely unexpected and you have no warning to prepare for that.

2) In pregnancy you get the baby most times, not always. In fatness you just have the rumours, the questions, the look without the baby at the end. To be honest, I haven’t decided whether I think this is a bad thing or a good thing….I’ll get back to you.

3) In pregnancy you deliver the baby and the belly size reduces a bit, then gradually reduces slowly back to somewhere near where you started. In fatness, these is no initial tummy reduction; you just start from wherever you are and gradually reduce it hopefully also to somewhere near where you started. So actually, the two conditions can be pretty similar in this regard.

Well that’s about all I have to say about fatness and pregnancy at this point in time.

I started and stopped the gym, I did a few food coaching sessions, I returned to pilates for a bit, I go on and off calorie restriction, we’re trying to do daily walks, I’m trying to get back on my bike on the trainer in the shed, I’m trying to walk past my favourite snacks.

It’s a work in progress; I’ll get there one day. And for now, my attempt is to be kind to myself and remember why I came to be where I am, and whenever I can, to do bits and pieces to help me along the way to getting where I want to go.