Thursday, December 26, 2013

marginalized (rant, off topic a bit)

First off, every time I get a comment that says "wow your weight really overshadows your life, that's all you focus on" I have to laugh, because that's the POINT of this blog, to address weight-related issues. You don't care about me shopping with my friend. Or my cat being sick. (well, you might care about the cat) Or what books I read this week. Or what books I wrote. This blog is about MY FAT LIFE and thus that's what 99% of the posts are about. So please, don't come to a blog that focuses on ONE ASPECT of someone's life and then say that's all the person thinks about. If it was, I'd post on here all day every day instead of once in a while.


But this is one of those rare posts that really isn't about being fat, although it touches on that. It's about how I am being marginalized and belittled and shoved aside and scapegoated and how frustrated I am. 
I know I am not the sanest person on the planet and I've never claimed to be.  I'm a weird duck if ever there was one.  I have sensory perception disorder (aka sensory integration disorder), I'm a supertaster, I have synesthesia (all those things I was born with) and an eating disorder and a bit of OCD (which I think are both related to the SPD but perhaps that's making an excuse).  In fact most people who have SPD are autistic.  I'm an oddity there, in that I am not, or if I am, I'm so low on the scale as to be non-detectable.
People tend to think, for some reason, that if I am set on a course of action, that it's optional.  My wishes don't seem to be important.   There are two ways that things can go.
I want to do X.  Someone else wants to do Y.  If I genuinely don't care, I will say, "Well I want to do X, but if you want to do Y, fine, we'll do that."
But if there is a reason behind my desire to do X, I'm going to dig in my heels. And that's where I become optional and marginalized.
My husband's family always wants to go out to eat on a Saturday night.  I suggest lunch.  It's often cheaper, and usually much less crowded.  On Saturday night about 6 p.m. the wait for just about any restaurant is an hour or more.  But they are obdurate and pick the evening and when we get the to the restaurant the wait is 2 hours and then my mother in law is freaking out (more on her later) because she can't deal with anything and if I point out that lunch would have been a better choice, I'm told I never said that.  
If I want to do something a certain way or at a certain time, there is a reason.  It's not "Rosie being OCD and needing her own selfish way in everything" and when I'm overridden by others, I'm always proven right. 
Always.
And my rightness is always denied in some fashion.
It makes me quite crazy.


You probably know that my husband's mother isn't well.   She was mentally ill to begin with and now she's had a bunch of strokes and well, the result isn't pretty.  And the already toxic relationship she has with her children has pretty much gone nuclear, if that's not too much of a mixed metaphor.  
So the other day my husband says that we're all going to the movies Christmas night to see Desolation of Smaug (which is over 3 hours long and we already saw it).  I point out that it's full price, which I hate paying.  And that it will be mobbed.
"No it won't, who goes to the movies Christmas Day?"
Then he wants to pick his mother up a scant 30 minutes before the movie starts.  It takes her at least 10 minutes to get out of her house and into the car and the same in reverse and it's 10 minutes to the theater.  I suggested that I go early and stake out seats where I can put my feet up so my ankles don't swell and hurt (lymph edema + gravity = pain).  But no, we have to go AS A FAMILY.  (except for his sister of course, who didn't show up or call to say she wasn't coming but that's okay because it's her and not me)
We get to the movies at the time he was going to pick her up and the place is mobbed.  Lines for tickets and popcorn out the door.  Husband pretends amazement, oh this wasn't an original idea?  You mean, LIKE I TOLD YOU? 
Sigh.
I'm waiting in line for popcorn (it was my dinner or I would have skipped it).  I'm in terror that MIL will eat some and vomit in the theater.  (She vomits almost every time she eats, long story.)  They get the tickets, I'm still in Popcorn Line Hell, and I say to my husband, please get me a seat where I can put my feet on the railing so they don't swell and hurt me, and there is no one on either side of me (because I have people claustrophobia, which he knows very well).
I get into the theater and he's parked his MOTHER in the coveted railing spot (depending on the specific screen layout, only about 6 seats have the railing) and I'm stuck between him and some stranger.  So for 4 hours I have to be hunched in so a stranger doesn't touch me with my feet down and swelling.
I was upset.  It would have been one thing if the railing area was already filled when he got there, but it wasn't.  I reiterated that I really needed the railing or I'd be in pain.  He got mad at me and wouldn't rearrange the seating and so I had to sit between him and a stranger, no empty buffer seats between us, feet down.
He's murmuring to his mother: what's wrong?  Do you want to go home?  and I'm thinking WHAT?  You forced me to come out tonight when I didn't want to come and spent all this money on full priced tickets and popcorn and drinks and now we're leaving before the movie starts?  No fucking way. 
She's CRYING (during the stupid PowerPoint commercials before the movie) that she misses her grandmother and I made her sit in the back seat in the car and I'm mean and her daughter didn't want a Christmas gift and now she's not even here and who knows what else.
She continues to sob away during the previews and the start of the movie with my husband constantly reassuring her and offering to take her home. 
Meanwhile someone has sat in the seats right in front of me so I can't even put my feet up on their armrests ,and I can feel the fluid slowly trickling down into my ankles and staying there.
And then people come in with infants and toddlers.  To a movie that ends at 11 p.m. and is not rated G.  Of course the children all cried and fussed and made noise through the whole movie.  One kid was carried out screaming NO NO NO.  
Good times.
The movie was enjoyable (it wasn't that I didn't want to see it again, it was that I didn't want to see it again at full price in a crowd) and at the end we had to sit there while my husband explained the whole movie to his mother (she saw the first one with us last year but said she didn't) and she kept asking how it connected to Harry Potter and which ones were the Harry Potter people?  And how confusing the movie was and how she didn't understand it at all.
After we finally dropped her off I asked my husband why she was crying and he said, "because you ruined Christmas."
Yes, Rosie ruined Christmas.  I made her sit in the back seat and I'm mean to her and mean to her precious son and I totally absolutely ruined Christmas and it's all my fault.  And of course my husband agreed with her and didn't defend me and got angry with me when I tried to defend myself to him.
My best friend is out of town for the holiday but she texted me to ask me how much my MIL threw up at the holiday meal (she didn't because she didn't eat but she managed 5 times at Thanksgiving which might be a record) and I told her about the crying and how it was all my fault and the holiday was ruined and she responded "wow, they will do anything to make you the scapegoat" and she's right.
And I'm tired of it.  And if I complain, I'm wrong.  Everything I do is selfish in their eyes.  I sit in the front seat, I'm selfish.  I need to put my feet up, I'm selfish.  I am confused by her conversation that mixes up Star Wars and Star Trek and makes no sense, I'm rude and mean to question her.  I don't want to go with them, I'm selfish. 
I can't win.  I really can't.  I am emotionally drained.
Oh, and when I woke up this morning I could barely walk I was in such pain.  I asked my husband's help in switching the cars in the driveway (he had to go over his mother's, imagine that) because I was limping so bad and he had the NERVE to say, "why are you limping, what's wrong with your legs?"  I wanted to smack him.  I didn't.  I said, calmly, "I didn't get to put my feet up last night and my legs are very swollen and painful" you know, just like what I said would happen.  Which is the story of my life lately.
 end rant 
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