The Things We Wear and Hide on the Outside…

Today was my med appointment and counseling appointment.  The appointment started with me sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong – as usual.  They hang a sign on the 2nd door of the bathroom that says the door is locked from both sides and can’t be unlocked.  This hangs just below the coat/purse/bag hook.   The problem with this is that every time I take my bags (yes I bring multiple bags with me that’s a story for another day) down the sign falls down onto the bathroom floor.  My OCD won’t let me pick the sign up, so I have to let the lady at the desk know so she can go pick it up.  Normally when I get to my appointment I always go use the restroom.  Then I go check in.  Today, I deviated. I checked in, and when I checked in (with the lady I always check in with – there are 3 choices and if I don’t get “my lady” the appointment doesn’t feel right), when I checked in with her I told her, look it’s none of my business but it would make more sense to move the sign above the hook rather than below, then it wouldn’t get knocked down as often.  She smiled and said she would make a note.

So next vital signs with the nurse.  That was fine (at first) blood pressure and pulse was fine.  As usual- despite my obese status I have a healthy cholesterol and blood pressure. Then the nurse said hmm, we checked your weight 2 weeks ago we don’t have to.  I said go ahead, how bad can it be? Now here’s a piece of advice – NEVER EVER EVER say that before you step on a scale.  I had a feeling I had gained some weight, my pants were a little more constricting, my appetite a little more (probably due to a new med from my last med change) and the fact that I have been binging as a coping skill (yeah not a healthy skill). But never in my wildest dreams did I think that the scale would say what it said… I gained, FOURTEEN yes 14 pounds in 14 days.  A Pound a day.  At this point I knew the day would go downhill.  Not only did that mean I was even fatter than I thought, but this put me back at the weight I was when I started a weight loss journey and came within 7 pounds of my 135 goal weigh 4 years ago. It means that in 1 year I have gained 76 pounds.  It means I’m back at square one, but this time the desire to lose weight, is trumped by my desire to not give a crap about much at all, except I care enough to be pissed at myself, to hate my weight, to hate my body and to hate me.

So next piece of good news is to go to my med appointment.  She asks me how I have been.  Im honest, good days and bad days.  Some really bad days when I hurt myself, but only 2 suicidal thoughts a week. An improvement— though I have a strong feeling that wont be the case the next time I see her…. We talk about the 14 pounds.  She thinks it’s likely the remeron, so we are going to stop that and try some other pill that’s supposed to help me sleep.  I want to say let’s just skip to the good crap and give me some ambien or something. But whatever.  She increases my Effexor.  She asks me about my sex life, I say HA! We haven’t had sex since the last time I saw you, and I am pretty sure we haven’t had it in like a month. I’ve lost count.  Apparently hubby’s medication messes with his libido- however despite that I am still convinced he’s not interested in me because I look like the state puff marshmallow man and jabba the hut had a baby. But again – whatever.

After that joy ride I head upstairs for counseling.  I’m feeling peckish when I sit down which isn’t typical but it should have been a hint that today wouldn’t go well.  I had done my homework, and shared most of it here with you – you know all about happiness and crap.  I edited it and added a little and was happy with the result.  She asked me to read it to her, but as I was about halfway through page one she made me stop.  She asked me if I ever get to the actual definition, and I said yes and she made me skip to that. I read it, and continued, she stopped me again, and asked if I ever said what happiness would look like to me, again I answered in the affirmative and she made me skip to that part.

Now first of all, if you are asking me to write something from the heart, you should have the decency to listen to the whole thing.   Even if you think parts of it is rambling, avoidance and hyberbole.  I was hurt that she wouldn’t hear it all.  I am sure there is some theraputic reason why she wouldn’t let me, but I was pissed, and hurt. So then we discuss my view of happiness, of how happy would look to me.  And I had already decided my expectations were too high, my goals unattainable, and that I would probably have to reframe my ideals if I ever wanted to reach this magical land called happiness.  And she agreed.  She confirmed with me that I believed every one of those things had to be in place in order for me to be happy (or so I thought) and I said absolutely. And she made a note.  Probably something about how nutty I am, or to bring home milk… I don’t know.  By now I was defensive and getting kind of mad at her.

Somehow we got into the discussion of the sign in the bathroom, I don’t remember how, but I did tell her that I felt a little bitchy asking her to do it, like I was insinuating myself into the running of their office and it really wasn’t my business…. she asked if I always use the bathroom when I come here, and I said yes, twice, when I come and when I go.  It’s my routine, just like I always check in with the same lady (as long as she’s there) and I always sit in the same chair in the waiting room, and that I will probably always sit in the same place in her office. And the she asked how I would feel if she sat somewhere else. I told her I wouldn’t care, as long as she didn’t sit next to me on the couch that would be too close and not behind her desk.  She asked why I said well for one how do I know you aren’t playing solitaire back there, and for 2 you are putting up a wall and if you get to put up a wall then I get to too.  There was a little back and forth there but the next question is giving me quite a bit of anxiety and will till my next appointment.  She asked how I would feel if the sign wasn’t moved. I said well, it’s their office they ultimately get to decide.

By then the session was over and homework given- write down 2 positive things about my day every day (GAG).  I know it’s probably therapeutically significant but honestly my life pretty much sucks it’s hard to see the good. OH! I forgot to mention I am not allowed to say “I don’t know” because although that is legitimately sometimes the truth more often it’s that I don’t want to answer or I need more time to think about it. So I have to say that. (GAG).  She’s really doing things to make me uncomfortable.  She also asked about exposure therapy I said, in a safe place, with safe people I would be ok, but you ask me to lick a walmart cart and all bets are off.

So that being over, I checked out, made my next appoinments, grabbed one of the sdnacks they offer and used the restroom.  The sign was moved. My heat skipped a little. Success. One of my OCDs would be lowered. I went and thanked the receptionist.

When I got into the car the 14 pounds hit me, hard. And immediately I decided I needed to hurt, physically because I was hurting so much mentally. So I tried my fingernails, but I have been biting them and it wasn’t enough. They were too short, I bit them this week, and it didn’t hurt enough.  I had my knitting needles with me, so while driving I tried one of my metal needles.  Not enough, not even close. So I remembered I had a set of keys to our old house and I used them.  I scratched the inside of my arm,  the outside of my arms, I went up and down and side to side. I drew blood a couple times.  It hurt so much but it felt so good. I needed that. My old wounds were almost healed and I needed new ones, and add to that the weight gain I needed to feel the burn and the pain of scratching.

After a while I called hubby to find out how his appointment went, about as expected, so at least not bad news. I stopped and met a friend to pick up some furniture another friend was giving us and then I talked to hubby more.  We talked about scratching with the keys.  When I got home he said that when I was in a better place we would talk about me scratching with implements.  He said my fingernails are one thing but keys are another… and I got honest, and said I was almost thinking the keys weren’t enough.  He said if this keeps up he will make me sign myself into a facility. I understand his concern but really, it could be worse.  It could be a razor, a knife, or even something worse….

Here’s what I did…

IMG_6733IMG_6734IMG_6735IMG_6736IMG_6737

I look at it, and realistically I know it’s stupid. That it really doesn’t help in the long run, but I feel like I need the pain, I need the scars.  The scars that people can see on the outside that match the scars that are inside. Though I have to say that they don’t even come close to the depth of the scars that are inside my brain and heart.

Of course tonight I didn’t do any better with food, I drank a large caramel frappe from McDonald’s – 680 calories, and my dinner was 2 very big bowls of cocoa pebbles. I am sure that will do wonders for my weight.

And what’s even better, I had my husband drop my son off at his counseling appointment at 1pm, and I said I would pick him up at 2… guess what? His appointment was at 2pm. I had it written in 2 places- my phone calendar and my paper calendar. AND I got a reminder call yesterday.  I can’t keep anything straight these days. Ia m just so tired of living this life.

This was a pretty bleak post.  I guess I should end with 2 positive things from today…..

  1.  I had a friend who cared enough to go out of her way and meet me, to get some free furniture from another friend.
  2. I took my kids to karate even though I didn’t want to go, and wanted to stay home.
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Author: thethingswehideinside

Im an almost 40 year old mom struggling through this life with two children, a husband, a houseful of animals. We all have mental or physical challenges that make daily life even harder, this is our journey.

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