Friday, June 18, 2010

Depression, anxiety, edema

There's a lot going on in my life, at the same time I don't know what's going on. Does that make any sense at all?
I'm just coming off way too many days with an unpleasant house guest.  Like a fish, he stank immediately (not after 3 days).  He was not supposed to stay with us at all.  Then it was going to be for 1 night only.  Then he stayed for 5 more nights straight.   He's my husband's family, has never liked me.   Either he didn't flush the toilet or he let it run for hours (you have to jiggle the handle, which I told him first thing on day 1).  Wet towels everywhere.  Piles of laundry.  (Yeah, he did his laundry here.)  Dirty dishes.  Filthy footprints throughout the house.  Plus he expected us to leave the house unlocked so he could come and go at his leisure, while driving OUR car.  And of course, because he came and went randomly, I had to be fully dressed at all times, which I hate.  The stress of having him here was literally making me shake.
So there is that.  He just left (finally!) and I cleaned up the house, but I'm feeling bitter and resentful.  He owes us money from his last visit, didn't pay us, expected us to support him while he was here, he ate our food, drove our car but didn't even buy us a drink much less a meal, didn't fill the car up with gas, expected us to drive him to and from the airport.   Just very fucking rude, in plain English.
Having him around made my husband into kind of a jerk.  We had it out over going out to eat.  The end result was that I am no longer welcome to come out to eat with his family.   Well, his family doesn't consider me family (as in, "the family can sit over here, and then Rose can sit at that table"), so I don't know why I feel surprised or hurt that I'm not welcome.   It's a combination of the whole eating disorder thing and the fact that rules that apply to others don't apply to me.  Or vice versa.  For instance, when deciding to go out to eat, if I don't like a restaurant they are sure to pick it.  If another family member doesn't like a restaurant, of course they would NEVER go there.
My husband was yelling at me that I only like to eat at "shitty chain restaurants" and how his family likes to eat at "real" restaurants.  So I promptly countered with a few non-chain restaurants that I love (all of which happen to serve Mexican food) and a few chain restaurants his family eats at (all of which are fish-related).  His response?  His mother doesn't like Mexican and does like fish so they go for fish.  But I like Mexican and hate fish, so they go for fish.  Therefore, I'm not even invited anymore, so they don't have to deal with me anymore.  And yes, he said that.
How did I feel? I just wanted to go into the corner and die.  What is the point of being married to someone who doesn't want to spend any time with me?   Basically by the time the argument was finished, my husband wasn't going to any chain restaurants with me ever again, whether or not they served fish, Mexican or something else.
The only solution of course is for me to go for behavioral modification therapy.  Which would involve being exposed to fish, smelling fish, eating fish.  That's the cure.   That's not happening.   I like fish, a lot, in a fish tank.  I'm thinking about getting a little pond out in the yard with some koi.  But not to eat. 
So my OCD is in overdrive in general.  I feel myself wanting to gather things (the beginning of hoarding), wanting to eat a lot of food.  Not wanting to leave the house.  Nothing is good enough.  The house isn't clean enough.   I have no patience, because no one else can do anything right, so they just need to get the hell out of my way and let me do it myself.   But even I can't do it right, so then I sink into a depression and I'm upstairs in bed at 2 p.m. sleeping. 
My dog is doing badly and yesterday I sat outside with him and cried.  He's a hotdog and his back is going.  He can't get on or off the couch, or use stairs.  When I carried him and put him down, he fell over and struggled to get up.  He's still happy and his tail still wags but my heart is breaking.  I don't even know how old he is.  We got him used from a hotdog rescue group because my dad wanted another dog and my mom couldn't deal with a puppy and a sick husband.  The vet said he was maybe 6, maybe 10 years old.  We hoped for 6, of course, but 4 years later it seems more like he was 10, and is now 14.  He's not a 10 year old dog now, that's for sure.  I've had so much loss--9 pets, a dad, several jobs--in the last 5 years.  Please, can't something nice happen to me?  Must my dog die too?
And just in case I wasn't feeling the beat-down from the universe, the edema has spread to my other leg.  That leg used to be perfect.  Now the ankle is swollen just like the bad leg. I am terrified of being crippled.  I'm cutting out my morning walks for a week and returning to the pool 5x a week hoping to get the fluid moved.  So my exercise is going to go from around 13 hours a week to 9, but higher intensity (probably my calories burned will go up or be the same) and all in the water.  I've been in bed with my feet on the above-bed shelf trying to get gravity to be my friend rather than my enemy.
I don't want to have to go for lymphatic drainage massage. It hurts, it needs to happen every 2 days and insurance doesn't pay.  I don't want to move to the stupid compression stockings. They hurt too.  My aunt had lymph edema in her leg my whole life and she wore the stocking.  The stocking basically gave her bedsores on that leg.  The sores would ulcerate and suppurate through the stocking, pus and blood leaking through.  Once a week (the day she took her shower and set her hair) she also went to the doctor to have a new compression bandage put on.   If they still work the same, that means no pool.  The pool helps. The pool does NOT hurt.  I can't stand to think the pool would be taken away and pain put in its place.
So I can't decide. Do I need some kind of anti-anxiety medicine?  Am I clinically depressed?  The problem is, if I am depressed, I have REASON to be.  My life is pretty sucky right now.   And the really sucky thing is that anti anxiety and anti depression medicines tend to cause weight gain.
I feel useless, hopeless, and not at all funny today.



If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on itsafatlife.blogspot.com, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

patio furniture, not for fatties

I have been looking, in a vague way, for some patio furniture. Well, yard furniture. I have that horrible resin stuff and it's so stained I can't get it clean and it looks disgusting. I was at BJ's Wholesale club today and they had a display of patio furniture. Way too expensive ($1000 for 6 chairs and a table, no umbrella?!). And those damn backlegless chairs.
(the picture is an example of a chair with no back legs, not the one I saw at BJ's)
My mom was with me and she couldn't understand why I didn't like the set (beside the price) and I said, "Mom, I'm a fatass.  My husband is a fatass.  My friends are fatasses.   I can't buy chairs with no back legs!"  My mom just stared at me.   A lady came up to me and said, "I hate those chairs too.  And the ones that come in the bag, did you ever look at the weight limit on those?"  and she shook her head and walked away.
I guess she's talking about camp chairs.  I know they make them in fatass sizes, but who buys those? My friends buy the cheapo $20 ones and can't understand why I won't sit in them.
I really don't get it.  If 75% of the population of the US is either obese or overweight, why are folding chairs made with a 200 lb or less weight limit? 
(backless picture source; folding picture source)

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on itsafatlife.blogspot.com, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.