189 pounds

I’ve gained 10 pounds in one month due to overeating and inactivity. Some of it has been stress eating, some has been celebrating.My activity outside of work has turned into laying down in bed for the most part. I’ll lay there reading, or watching streaming video on my iPad. That or I go to therapy.  But my job is really physical, and it makes me be on my feet and moving. This movement has likely stopped me from getting even fatter.

So, I know how to make my self loose weight. I get more active… I sit and read instead of laying down. I spend more time working on projects, even if they are ones that are really sedentary. That would be things like writing, and interacting with people.  In a week, my body would have lost enough weight for the pain to stop. It really is that simple for me. But I have to want to do it. That’s the problem for me. Being my currant weight is doing something for me.

It’s keeping men from flirting with me.  I don’t want the guy who’s my age and really, really cute and nice flirting. It’s not a good time for me to  be meeting that kind of person right now. I don’t want the guy who’s old and jobless. I never, ever, ever want him in my life. Unless he’s really rich and looking to marry me. Then I’ll consider it.  Lets say that I made it through the cheese/insulting line, and I go to turn him down. There’s a good chance that I will receive a fairly uncivil reaction from the guy. This part scares me too.  I’ve seen far too many guys who arn’t ok with me not wanting anything to do with him.

Do I really need to put up with that kind of crap from guys? Do they really need to be mostly assholes who won’t take a “I’m not interested” as an answer? Unfortunately, the case to both of them is yes, yes I do. The worst part is that the world I live in has said that this is both acceptable, normal, and good.  This needs to change.

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Why I’m skipping Thanksgiving this year

When I was a kid, food was always an issue. My dad apparently didn’t believe in eating breakfast, or lunch. Of course there cereal, but the milk would be spoiled, or all gone. There would be no tea to drink, only black coffee.  The sugar was gone so often that I didn’t bother to check for it, and the milk.. already covered. So, there was nothing but toast but the jelly would have mold on it. of course my Dad didn’t think that there was a problem with eating moldy food, so sometimes the bread would be moldy also. That left me with little to eat for lunch. Lucky for me, there were a few smart teachers who would call my Dad, and make sure that I was given both breakfast and lunch at school. But that didn’t start until they figured out that I was using my birthday money on food.

When I got older, things got a little better. I started cooking, and thus got leftovers for lunch. That became cool when I got to high school because I would eat good for me food, and my friends wanted to be healthy.  The problem then became getting proper food.  There was a period of a few months where my diet was almost nothing but shitty iceberg lettous. I was still at the age where I needed a work permit, my parents wouldn’t sign it without me handing over my paycheck. I didn’t have a place that I could have hide the money safely. My room was considered fair game for searches. So, I wasn’t given food that had any nutritional value, and I didn’t have a single safe person who was willing to help me get it.

On top of this, I was always told that I was “fat” and my dad gave me various pills. They got flushed. I know, that’s bad to do with them, but It’s what I had to do. I didn’t want to take them. My problem wasn’t that I needed pills, I needed food that was healthy. If I ate too much, I was fat. If I ate too little, then I was being disrespectful for not liking the food.

So, I’ve already had food issues. This is only the ground work for the real problem. My last exboyfriend refused to eat anything that i cooked after a little while. He would then get offended if I didn’t like or eat the food that he made, or wanted to go out and eat. But I wanted healthy food, not fat and sugar filled stuffs. But, I let him cook, and I gained weight. As this happened, he got steadily more abusive. I don’t know if it was about my weight, or if it was about him being an asshole. But, it happened.

Then, earlier on the night he attacked me, he odored a pizza for us… one with meat on it… despite it being the one that I was paying for, and it was celebrating for me, and I don’t like meat on pizza. I like vegetables, and lots of them.  He knew this, yet disregarded my tastes at my celebration, on my dime…

so, now the girl who has post-tratamic-stress can’t handle sitting down with a group of people and eating. So, I’m skipping Thanksgiving this year. I will not force  my self into an experience that is high pressure, and likely to end bad with people who won’t understand. I say that because the ones who do understand let me just say “not this year” and answer with “ok” or “I understand” or “I’m here to talk about it.”

Mental Health Professionals are control freaks.

I have never been a follower. I’m not much of a leader, but I do make my own choices. This is why I have issues with the mental health professionals that I know. They keep on acting like they have a better idea of my life then I do. At my latest intake exam, I had one tell me that I should get a job dealing with people in the AM’’s because I have sleeping problems.
Mind you, if I were to get a job in the AM dealing with people, I wouldn’t be able to keep it. I’d have one too many bad days, and be fired. With my currant job, I’m mostly alone, and can go off and cry/panic/cope as needed. Most of my job is on my own, and free from anxiety causing stuff. Then he scheduled my next appt. for when I’m normally sleeping.
So, is he on my team? No. If the idea that I should go get another job that actively triggers my anxiety isn’t enough, could you just schedule me for a time when I’m available? One that’s not going to get everyone who I live with annoyed, and destroy my sleeping schedule?
If this were a one time thing, it would be different. But I’ve never had, in my years of dealing with them, a “metal health professional” who didn’t proclaim that there answers were the best, and who was willing to answer a single objection, or a single question. I’m used to doctors working with me more. They will at least give me a b.s. answer. I don’t always call them on it.
I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to find someone in the mental health world who understands what it’s like out there in the real world. I don’t need people just giving orders. What I need is people who are going to help me find solutions so I can get back on track. Back to writing and photography. Get to the point where fear isn’t the controlling part of my life.

Art therapy.

The first time I did art therapy, I was given a set of mostly dead markers. The only one that really worked was blue. so, I did my whole thing in blue. whatever. I didn’t think that it was going to be used against me to put me on meds. With the way that it was  used, I think that it might have been done on purposes.  Blue could just imply being under water, or being viewed through water, yes? Well, instead it was insisinsted that I was “depressed” when what I was at the moment was board, uninterested, and kinda pissed off that I was being asked to do *art*.

Needless to say, That didn’t work for me. I knew that I wasn’t an artist, that my work wouldn’t ever be understood long before that. In school, I was lucky enough to have some art lessons. However, my teachers didn’t like my art. If I tried to draw things from inside my head, I’d get more sessions with the school councilor. I will never understand why attempting to draw things was such a problem.  I was teased, always teased for my artwork. Never was I praised for it, so I know that I wasn’t much good.

So, why would I go back to art? To overcome my fears. To express emotion with a few basic storkes in a safe place for me to do so.

Right now, the plan is to practice once a week. one complete art work, expressing fear right now. I’m hopeing that I will be able to get it out of me… that this will help me get over and deal with and process the amount that I’ve got chasing me right now.  Hopefully the combination of this and the thyroid meds are going to be enough. Even if The thyroid meds are a “fix” I’ve still got to go back and deal with the emotional results of the fear. Just because the cause could be that doesn’t change how terrible the effects of it were.

Working Through The Fear

This evening, I was trying to give the bed a bear hug. I was laying there, with nothing but fear running through me, making me feel as if I were going to cry. The fear that was crippling me? The fear that I’d never get out of being poor. That I’d never be able to afford more then my current meager living. 

 

Instead of laying there and allowing this fear to overcome me, I got up and with a glass of tea, and jar of water, I managed to make it to my computer, and start to write. What did I write? A fiction story that I’d been working on. It has now been put in to a file, and I’ve added to my calendar to review this story in 1 months.

 

Now, am I afraid? A little. However, that little isn’t stopping me from doing what I need and want to get done. I’m still loosing weight. I’m down 10 pounds, and think that I’m up some muscle. I’m still getting this blog written, and posted. I’m still slowly moving forward with everything that I really want to do.