Question of the Day: Wednesday Check-In

Today’s Question Is:

How are you doing so far this week?

This has been a pretty good week so far. Monday was therapy and pdoc and I handled that busy day pretty well. Today is my really full day which often leaves me feeling overwhelmed.

I went to the gym at 10 this morning and then my gym buddy and I grabbed a quick lunch. That’s followed by DBT from 1-3, which is exhausting by itself. Then I’ll take mobility to the library where I have a NAMI support group from 6-730 and then I rush to Roller Derby which doesn’t end till 10.

I have dinner in the crockpot which we won’t get to eat until after we get home from Derby.

I’m hoping I can use my coping mechanisms to get through the day without the emotional meltdown that is pretty typical for my Wednesdays.

But, we’re halfway through the week.

How are you doing so far this week?

Quiet Voice of Defeat

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post, but also a Really Real Health Post.

CW: Talk of weight and food.

The quiet voice is back. The one that tells me it would be so much easier to just end it all.

Wednesdays are hard and even with my sister in town yesterday it was a long hard day. I came home after she left and climbed in bed without saying goodnight to Wonder Woman and pulled the covers up over my head.

I was irrationally angry over things that we just haven’t had time for.

Or maybe we haven’t made the time.

But either way I wanted to lash out and I wasn’t in a place to have a rational conversation so I climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head and didn’t even stir when Wonder Woman came to bed hours later.

But that’s not why the voice is back.

I had a doctors appointment today and realized I’m looking for a quick fix when there isn’t one. I’m not willing to do the work right now because I feel like I have to work extra hard for minimal results and it’s just not fair.

When I was riding the wave of mania for almost a year it was hard work but at the same time it was easy. And there was all this external validation because in the midst of the hardest thing I’d ever been through I was making all these strides towards self improvement on so many different fronts.

Including losing weight.

But now I’m not manic, and now it is just hard work without all of the positive feedback and without even having anything to show for it.

I’m back in another weight loss surgery program and this one knows the problems I had with the last surgeon so I doubt I’ll have the same problem. Except the last time I was all about working the program and losing weight leading up to it, and really into how successful I was going to be pre and post surgery.

I gave a fuck and it showed.

This time I don’t really give a fuck. I just know I can’t keep living like this, and this is one program that won’t give me the amount of shit the last program gave me. It’s why I chose this program, it has minimal requirements.

See, I know surgery isn’t a quick fix. I know surgery is just a tool and if I don’t do the work it won’t work. I know it isn’t the easy way out.

And I also know that right now my heart isn’t in it.

And my heart isn’t in it because even while I was working so fucking hard, I just started gaining the weight back because I’m fighting against PCOS and I’m fighting against medications.

I don’t even know where to start with my food intake. There are so many things that need to change and I’m so overwhelmed about how to change them. I keep saying I’m going to do this or that differently but there are so many different areas that I end up not following through with any of them.

I’ve quit doing cardio at the gym because what’s the point of working myself to the point of exhaustion on the machines when I’m not getting a single benefit. I still go for strength training a few days a week because I feel the difference with that when I stop, I still walk a mile or two a few nights a week because walking made a huge difference in my life when I started, but even that I’m not all that consistent with.

I worked my ass off . . . and gained 25 lbs due to a medication change. Once that stabilized I kept working my ass off and my weight didn’t change. Now I’ve slacked way off for the last month and my weight didn’t change.

It makes me feel like the effort is useless.

I’m supposed to go for 4 more monthly nutrition appointments and then I can schedule surgery, but if I can’t get my heart into this, there’s no point in scheduling a surgery date.

Depression and poor self image are playing into this big time.

I care about how difficult my weight makes my life, but I hate my body so doing loving and caring things for it is difficult.

Self sabotage via food.

I’ve been here before, for a lot of years. Mania and post traumatic growth made it easy to overcome this cycle but it’s possible to overcome it even without that.

I need to get my heart back in the game.

I need to make changes.

Shining light on all my dark splotches

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I just left therapy where we talked a lot about body image and why I am no longer able to be body positive like I once was.

I am pissed off at the body I inhabit.  I hate the skin that I am in.

At one point I worked out and I felt stronger, I lost weight, I felt I had control and was able to change the shape of this body of mine.

Now I have no control.

Medications have taken that control from me.

The same medication that reduced my suicidal thoughts has increased my weight and changed the distribution of my weight so that my abdomen is larger.

I am pissed off at the body I inhabit.  I hate the skin I am in.

I have an auto-inflammatory condition called hidradenitis suppurativa.

It causes painful abscesses, wounds, and tracts to develop in hair follicles and sweat glands in my underarms, breasts and groin.  When they heal they leave behind scar tissue.

My body is attacking itself.

I am pissed off at the body I inhabit. I hate the skin I am in.

Parker once asked me if I had to tell people I had HS. She was affirming that it was something to be ashamed of, something to hide.

I am afraid of sex, afraid of being seen naked because I’m fat and covered in sores and scar tissue. I can’t imagine that anyone, even Wonder Woman, would want to look at me. I hide my body. I have to fight against my own brain whenever I undress in front of her.

I am pissed off at the body I inhabit. I hate the skin I am in.

Even clothed I hate looking at myself in the mirror, my clothes no longer fit correctly, I’ve had to buy larger shirts. All I can see is my rolls and my fat. I see the parts of me that don’t fit in seats correctly.

“You’re pull up two chairs kinda big” is what my father once said.

I am pissed off at the body I inhabit. I hate the skin I am in.

I miss the days when I felt strong. I miss feeling beautiful.

I want to love the body I inhabit. Why can’t I love the skin I am in?

Maybe shining light on all of these dark thoughts is the beginning to loving myself again.


So much to do, So little time.

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I still hurt today.  I woke up feeling like my hip had let up, but as the day has gone on, it has gotten worse and worse.

Now I’m back to not being able to get comfortable, and feeling like I’m going to cry.

I emailed my doctor and asked her if she’d send me for imaging without an office visit.  It seems dumb to go in just to have her say “We need Xrays and if that doesn’t show anything we need an MRI.”

But I said this was a mental health post.

I feel defeated.

I’ve been doing really well with going back to the gym and walking almost every night and today I went to the gym and I feel like I’m paying for it.

The gym is a necessary component of my self care.  It is a necessary component of my mental health care, right up there with meds and therapy.  And right now this hip pain is threatening my ability to access the gym.

I’m also catastrophizing a lot which isn’t helping me deal with the pain as it is right now.  I’m so used to being dismissed when I talk to doctors about my pain, that I’m already seeing a scenario where I have to learn to live around this intense pain.  I’m already imagining what life will be like if this has to become my new normal.

I mean, I just went through this with back pain.  They sent me to a few months of physical therapy, no imaging was done, and when that didn’t help I was told it was just back pain, it was normal, especially in someone my size, and I’d just have to learn to deal with it.  Keep going to the gym, keep doing what I’m doing.  It’s all that can be done, really.

I’m just a fat crazy woman who is exaggerating.

And even writing this I feel like I’m whining.

But I feel defeated.  I don’t even know what’s wrong and I’d almost rather lay down and die then go fight the doctors to get proper treatment that I know I won’t get anyway.

Pain definitely takes a toll on my mental health.  I’m tired of it.

I’m tired.

Sleep All Day

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

This is one of my longer ones.

I stayed in bed till after 1pm.

Then I was angry at myself because the sink was full of dishes from two nights ago and I couldn’t even make myself my “morning” cup of coffee until I washed them.

Which meant putting away the last set of dishes I washed.

All I wanted was a fucking cup of coffee.

No, really I just wanted to be in bed sleeping still, because, fuck today.

See, yesterday I had a really full day and I had it planned out perfectly.  Mobility ride to DBT, Mobility picking me up right afterwards and taking me to the library where I could get lunch and then work on homework until the NAMI meeting, Mobility picking me up right afterwards and taking me to the Skating Rink for Roller Derby, and then catching a ride home with someone.

And then Mobility was 30 minutes late in the morning and left me anxious the whole way to DBT, barely getting me there on time.  Then they were hours late picking me up from DBT, leaving me sitting in the waiting room when I should have been doing homework, and getting me to the NAMI meeting 30 minutes late.  Then they were late picking me up from the NAMI meeting, and the library closed, and I wasn’t really dressed for the change in temperature after the sun went down so I stood outside in the cold for 30 minutes and got to Derby later then I should have.

It didn’t help that all of the late running rides left me no time to grab food before the NAMI meeting I didn’t eat from 10am till almost 11pm.

Normally I feel like I’m lucky to have Mobility (paratransit, door to door public transportation for people that are disabled), and I am, it’s far more possible for me then buses would be.  But lately they have been so late, so often, and it’s been causing so many problems for me.

This time I was already crashing into depression, but when I feel like I am getting kicked by transportation issues every time I turn around, it wears on me.  I ended up in tears more than once.

And this morning I just couldn’t function.  I turned off my alarm and didn’t go to school.  I stayed in bed all day and didn’t bother fighting it until I knew my body would ache too much if I didn’t climb out.

I fight against this so hard, so often, and sometimes there is just no fight left.  I haven’t been to the gym in who knows how long.  Normally I can at least find some string to grab hold of so I can get myself there, but right now, every time it’s brought up, I say no.  I don’t feel like fighting it, because I’m fighting too many other battles with myself.

This time of year is so so hard, so far I’m handling it better than I have in years past but it’s still there pulling at me.  Reminding me that even with growth I’ll still have to fight against this with everything I have sometimes.  It hurts and it’s hard and I hate it.  I want to just lay there in bed and give up.

I would love it if all this mental health shit would go a bit easier on me.  I honestly, sometimes, feel like with everything I’ve been through, I deserve an easier time with this.

But it is what it is.  This is where I’m at and what I’ve been given.

And right now I’m crafting and working on some small projects, and sometime today I’m going to go out for a walk and try to get some fresh air.  My sink is empty because I did all of the dishes.  I have a really yummy dinner planned for tonight.  As hard as it is, I’m still fighting against this.  And when I list it all out, I realize that I really am winning so many battles.

Even though I slept most of the day, even though I still want to be there in bed, and I just want to give up . . .

I’m not.

Round and Round We Go!

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

TW: Mention of Suicidal Thoughts.

I’ve had nothing to write about, really.  But the longer I go without writing, the less I want to write, and the more I know I need to write.

I had a great day Sunday.  An all day date, of sorts, with Wonder Woman, doing all of the things.  An amazing breakfast, good coffee, walking around Annapolis, and dinner at The Melting Pot.  One of those days that you want to never end.

But it did.

And I woke up this morning and didn’t want to get out of bed.  Eventually, I crawled out of bed, late, and went to the gym, late.  And when I got back home I climbed right back into bed.

I crawled back out twice, convincing myself that I had to find something to occupy my time so that I didn’t waste my day away under the covers, but each time I crawled back under, turned off the lights, and rolled over.

The entire time I was beating myself up for how useless I was.  And beating myself up over how useless it was to beat myself up.

Finally the suicidal thoughts started creeping in slowly and I rode that wave for a few minutes before they dissipated.  If I’m always going to end up stuck in bed again, what’s the point of being alive.

Days like Sunday are the point of being alive.  Now, Shut.  The Fuck.  Up.

The thing is, I’m really in a good place mostly, or I should be.  I’m doing all of the right things, I’m taking my meds, I’m getting sun and water and food, and I’m exercising.

Cooperate brain, cooperate.

Eventually I crawled out of bed for good.  I did some of the weekly stuff that I never got to this morning, I drank coffee, I freshened the color on my hair, I started dinner.

I know that when I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, it’s typically a sign that the day is going to be rough with depression, so I’m hoping tomorrow morning goes better.