What a difference 5 years DOESN’T make…

I was asked and accepted to help in the infant room for our church's MOPs group. We get mostly toddlers but the occasional infant comes in and that's my happy place.  Well a friend captured a pic of me holding the infant this week. 

2017

When I looked at the pic I thought to myself – I remember seeing a picture like that before…. so I went back through my pics and found this

2012

and directly in the middle of that is this

2014

I look at all three pictures and I hate the person in each one. She's not happy, she's not where she should be, she's no one and no where.

Thats how I feel about myself…. like I am a placeholder for the real me that's going to show up someday.  Is that normal? Don't answer that's rhetorical- I know it's not.

My dad and I had a horrific conversation yesterday that included him telling me he's going to wind up hating me if I am not complicit in him not following doctor's orders and  trying to live on his own with 1 leg, half a hand, a replaced hip, brittle diabetes, the need for dialysis 3x a week after proving over and over he is unable to care for himself.

And as for me, we are coming up on the anniversary of my breakdown and I am getting more and more anxious and more. and more upset that nothing has changed.  Im not better.  Part of me wants to stop all my meds and self medicate with vodka and weed.  I won't, I have seen in family members what happens if you do that….but a girl can dream of washing her sorrows down with a shot of zyr vodka, a couple percocets and a bowl of the best weed….

I scratched yesterday.  Im finally finished with all my dr visits and surgeries, it felt so good…..sooooo good.

 

 

Stuff

Today was a weird day.  Started with a visit with PollyAnna, which is always “fun”.  Someone left 2 peanuts in their shells in the bathroom on the sink and I couldn’t stop trying to figure out why someone would do that, why not put them in your pocket? Why bring them in the bathroom? Why leave them? So PollyAnna and I walked downstairs mid session for me to remove them, so I would stop thinking about them.  So I used paper towels to pick them up and then I had to do my hand washing ritual- which includes 5 paper towels, no more no less. No idea why. We went back up stairs and now my concern was what if someone realized they forgot their peanuts and went back for them and they were gone?  What if they were upset. PollyAnna assured me if someone left peanuts in the bathroom they probably weren’t expecting them to still be there.  Which brought up hand dryers. They are a NO GO. I feel like everyone’s poop smell and flatulence air is being blown on my hand.  At this point she literally laughed. I know she thinks I am nutty, with all the rules I have especially the ones that don’t make sense but I can’t help it.

Then I went to see Mary Poppins. I lost 2lbs since seeing her last, not as much as I would like but it was a loss at least. We talked about my meds and what’s working (not much) and what isn’t (most everything).  So she has decided to discontinue the oxycarbazipine and do a low dose lithium.  But when hubby went to fill it apparently there is an interaction between lithium and metformin and it can cause spikes and valleys in your glucose level, so tomorrow I will call the endocrinologist (who I need to come up with a name for), and see if she thinks I should test my sugars – if yes FUN! NOT!

I didn’t get my nap today, I really wish I had, but I did get to finish the audiobook I was listening to- The Memory of Us.  It was a good story set in England at the start of World War 2. But sometimes I wanted to strangle the main character through the book.

I know there was more on my mind, but I can’t seem to remember now.  So until next time.

Working up a sweat

Last night was a BAD depression night. The OT had me really upset about little one’s worries, and all I could think was that the author of the email was right. I was ruining my children. Everything is all my fault. That I should just leave they would be better off without me.

So today I avoided in the morning- I napped and read. Then I had PT.  And I pushed HARD! I did the upright bike first as always and my goal was to do 1.75miles in 8 minutes on level 8. I know that doesn’t sound like much but remember I had hip surgery 8 weeks ago. And then it was the leg press machine, and I just really pushed HARD the entire hour session.  I was red faced and sweating. I have always found that when I am upset if I physically push myself I can stop myself from thinking a little bit at least.  The last 5 or 6 minutes she massaged the muscle that connects to my IT band and man it hurt so good.

After I got done with PT I got a text from my dad’s ex and he was being brought back to the hospital from the hotel.   He fell off the toilet and hit his head. And that he was finally agreeing to go to assisted living.  He called me later and I got more information. He fell off the toilet trying to reach his walker.  He not only hit his head but he fractured his hip :(. I am happy that he’s back in the hospital, but I don’t know if he’s healthy enough for hip surgery, for them to put in pins.  This means he missed dialysis today. I pray and hope this is a wake up call for him.

I know it was a wake up call for me. My endocrinologist wants me on 2000mg of metformin for my insulin resistance, and she wants me on the diabetic diet, and finally to lose 10lbs in 6 months.  My plan was to wait tilll month 5 and lose the 10lbs, but hubby put things into perspective, he said: “so you are going to do the exact thing that your dad does that makes you so angry?”. BURN. So today I started researching some protein shakes to help with snacks since I often turn to crackers, chips, cereal etc.  I will probably have to go back to yogurt, oatmeal, eggs for breakfast and quit the Cocoa Pebbles. I don’t want to end up like my dad. I want to live a life I can enjoy once my children are grown. So now in addition to getting mentally healthy I have to work on my physical health and well-being.  This may just push me over the edge, but we shall see….

Until next time….

Something we haven’t talked about…

Facial hair.

I was blessed  cursed with something known as Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS).  Among the symptoms are-

Symptoms include menstrual irregularity, excess hair growth, acne, and obesity.
People may experience:
Menstrual: abnormal menstruation, absence of menstruation, heavy menstruation, irregular menstruation, short and light menstruation, or spotting
Weight: obesity, overweight, or weight gain
Skin: acne or oily skin
Also common: infertility, depression, inappropriate male features, loss of scalp hair, or unwanted hair
Sounds like a party you want to be invited to right? I can still remember the day I was diagnosed. I was 18 years old, and devastated.  The doctor really stressed how difficult it would be to have children. The only thing I ever wanted in my whole life. I was infertile. My son was conceived via InVitro Fertilization.  My daughter was a miracle that we are still confounded about 7 years later.
I obviously have weight gain….duh.  As for menstruation TMI but I had a hysterectomy for reasons related to the PCOS and others. So hey at least there’s no problems there anymore.
My skin is dry not oily thanks to the bladder meds I take – so another win, right?
Depression- huh (insert sarcasm)
Loss of scalp hair- check. I seem to be losing it in 2 ways, one a receding hairline, as well as an all around general thinning. Not to mention I am more than 40% gray, and have several white eyelashes.
Which brings us to the topic of this post unwanted hair. Oh yes. Specifically facial hair.  I can mostly hide the other places where hair grows or remove it. But my face is a problem. I don’t want to shave, I have seen how hair thickens, and grows closer together looking more manish- so I pluck, each and every last hair on my chin, cheeks, sideburns, upper lip and lower lip. It’s getting harder and harder with my carpal tunnel, I can’t feel the tweezers and I often grab skin and pull because I am so numb.
Tonight I asked my husband if he thought if I shaved just this once it would ruin all I have been working on since I was in 7th grade? He said no.  But I still plucked 90% of it. I couldn’t risk it. I have tried nair, bleach, plucking, waxing, none of it is fun, none of it without it’s side effects. All I know is when I realize I went too long before plucking I am mortified.  That happened today. I was walking into the bathroom I looked in that huge vanity mirror we discussed in an earlier post and I could see my “beard” from the other side of the room.
All I could think about was the fact that I went to see Mary Poppins today, and not only was my hair greasy from not showering today, I just wasn’t up to it, but I looked like I belonged in the circus. I was mortified. And when I asked my husband about his razor I felt I had hit a new low. I started crying.  I can feel the tears stinging my eyes right now.
I have seen women out there that do nothing about theirs, I have seen women I know who shave, and they are so brave.  For me it’s my shameful secret, I can think of an handful of people I have ever talked to about this in my entire life.
I wish I could say there are only a handful of people who know about it, people see it every day.  Hubby says no, that no one notices.  But he wasn’t there in middle school when I would hear a certain boy call me “big guy” and rub his mustache (or where his would be had he had one).  He wasn’t there when my dad told me I really needed to do something about my sideburns and mustache. I was maybe 11 or 12, and I can picture exactly the places I was when I heard “big guy” from down the hallway (I was also overweight)…. I can remember escaping into the bathroom to have a good cry.  I remember hating myself.
I don’t know if I ever remember a time when I didn’t hate myself.  When I had someone on my side, that had me convinced I was ok. I do now, but the damage is done. I spent the first 17 years of my life being made fun of at home and at school.  Hearing how I was nothing, a zero, a she-man, a fool, ugly, fat, stupid, numb.  Those are my labels.  Not too long ago I posted on my Facebook wall asking for people to give me a label.  Every one of them was good- of course they were like someone is going to put idiot, fatty or hairy on another adults wall, but I wrote them all down, I looked them over and tucked them away. I don’t feel like they belong to me. I feel like they belong to some other version of me.  Not the version I live, not the version I feel like.
I know as a Christian I am supposed to define myself by who I am in Christ, but it’s so hard to undo all those years of taunts and things I believed as truths.  That’s when my brain was the most influenced.  It’s just like they say little kids learn things like foreign languages faster than others because their brains are sponges… it works in reverse too.  Those sponges pick up the dirt you serve them. And if you have ever cleaned your kitchen sponge after it starts to smell you know that no matter how many cycles you run it through the washing machine and dryer, the microwave or the dishwasher, the smell never completely comes out.  I think it’s the same with people.  I don’t know that I will ever completely let go of the horrible labels that were given to me as a child. I just can’t even imagine what it would be without those labels.
When I look at myself in the mirror I look and see someone who is fat, ugly, unhappy, hairy (unless I just plucked), graying, losing my hair. I can’t even tell you a good feature of my face. I am not joking, or exaggerating- if you asked me my best feature I couldn’t answer, at one point in time it was my collar bones – I was so happy to have collar bones you could see, but now, there isn’t a single part of me physically I like. Nonphysically? That I would lay down my life for those I care about. That’s about the best thing I can say about myself.
Wow- this was a poor me post. If you made it this far, you deserve a medal.  Im down tonight, between Mary Poppins, some stuff that happened with my dad today (that I will talk about tomorrow- maybe) and the plucking/shaving Im at a low point. So please bear with me.
Until next time…..

Mary Poppins is on my #$!@ list…

Not really I know she’s doing what’s best for me, but she’s told me I can’t nap during the day anymore. That’s like taking away my only coping skill.  It’s like taking away my best friend. It’s like taking away the only peace I have in life.  It’s the only time I sleep well, I get to avoid the hard stuff that happens all day.  She says I am interrupting my sleep cycle and it’s reversing itself, and it’s causing my nighttime anxiety to be worse, and thereby my depression worse. And I need to change it back before it does any more damage.

So that means I have to get off the couch, but I am still not allowed to do anything because of my hip.  The regulations are hard.  Right now I can’t put more than 20lbs of pressure on my left leg, hopefully that will change tomorrow, and I can stop the crutches/walker it’s making my carpal tunnel so much worse and I can barely type this. After that I am not allowed to bed, squat, crawl or kneel for 3 months.  I can’t stand for more than 30 minutes for 8 weeks- so another words I can’t do anything.  Exercise – even walking- is 6 months.

July 13 I have surgery for my left hand carpal tunnel and then I will have my right hand done 6 weeks later. Full use, recovery will take about 6 months, so by the New Year I should be a new woman. And maybe by then I will know what’s wrong with my thyroid… since I am completely convinced I have thyroid cancer or some sort of tumor since my TSH numbers has been rising so rapidly.

So now that I can’t nap I have to sit in a chair, we do not have a single comfortable chair for me to sit in, but if I lay on the couch I WILL nap.  I want a nap right now more than I want anything else in the world. Mary Poppins is trying to kill me. PollyAnna told me to cut back on naps, but now Mary Poppins doesn’t want me to nap at all.

I also feel guilty – I have cut pretty much everyone out of my life. I haven’t been talking to my friends, I haven’t responded to texts. I just have nothing to say.  When someone asks how you are, they really don’t want to know.

I know I need to put my faith in God, I intellectually know all the things I need to do, but I just don’t know how to do it. Trust is my issue. I can’t let it go-any of it.  I carry it all around with me, it’s like this video I saw a couple years ago- it really hits home….

Maybe someday God I will be able to let it all go to you.  Maybe then this darkness and hurt inside me will be gone, and I will be whole.

Until next time….

Sticks and stones….

“I’ve never seen you this big”.  Those words have been echoing through my head all week.  They were said to me by my mother-in-law last week.  We were discussing my mental health, my probable thyroid problem, the effect all these different medications as well as my hip injury has had on my body.  At the time I told her it wasn’t true, but the next day I was weighed at the dr and was up 12 pounds in 2 weeks…. so it was true.  I wasn’t even this big when I delivered my daughter.

Next to our toilet is a vanity with a very large mirror.  So everytime you stand up to rearrange your clothes you get a good look at your side profile.  Needless to say that’s what brought those words flooding to the front of my brain just now.  “I’ve never seen you this big”.  I’ve never seen me this big, and I don’t see any signs of my weight slowing down any.

One of my friends is running a Bible study for food addiction and freeing yourself from the bondage of food.  And I had been considering joining, though the timing seems off with hip surgery and not even being able to walk (like exercise walk) for 6 months, with my hand surgeries coming up.  I just felt like maybe I should do it.  I prayed about it, and I got this distinct and final answer “not now. focus elsewhere more important. wait”.  When I get words like that from the Holy Spirit I know better than to ignore them.

So I will live with my weight.  I will live with getting bigger.  I will sit out this study, and I will wait for His time, because His timing is perfect.

Until next time.

I really think that proverbial “Mama” was a liar!

The other day I think I recall titling a blog, or saying 'Mama, never said there'd be days like this"….. Well that mythical "Mama" whoever she is is a LIAR.

My morning so far:

You have to be 1.5 hours away early this morning for your pre-op. You have to wake up 3 people who hate getting up….

When you are in my position OCD with Anxiety, depression and PTSD you let the laundry pile up.  Just no energy to do it.

Then your son does his laundry in preparation for a camping trip. And washes one of his pull ups (we will gloss over the fact he's 14 on Saturday and still wets the bed)….. and end ups taking the entire day with using the washer.

You get up after a really crappy night's sleep, and shower because it'll help.

You get out and realize you have one pair of underware left- and you know you will have to shower when you get home from the doctors because you left the house, but you figure you will deal with that when it comes.  But when you go to get dressed this is all you find:

IMG_7268IMG_7267Yes, your last pair of pants is pink striped capris that your husband makes fun of, (not today the last time I wore them he said I really shouldn't wear them out of the house because they are ridiculous and look like pajamas) and what's worse the only shirt is gray STRIPES! Plaid pants with a gray and white horizontal striped shirt. I will tell you throwing myself out the window actually felt like a viable option this morning.  But I don't have a choice this is all I have left to wear.

That my dears is what happens when you have 3 levels of clothing, have to shower and change anytime you go outside, and get behind on laundry.  That's your public service message for today.

Now I am going to find my happy pills because I am completely mortified.  And the person I really want to talk to about this is my sister (she's a fashionista and could commiserate with me) but she's so Busy and preoccupied with all my dad's crap that I can't talk to her about anything.  And hubby he's no help all he said was is this a preop appointment or fashion show he doesn't understand the modification that I feel right now.

Oh and the scale read 243.something before I flew off it. I didn't want a surprise at my pre-op appointment today.  So might as well let that eat at me for the next while. I think I was about that weight when I gave birth to my daughter. yay! go  me.

I'll post after my pre-op.