Monday, 23 February 2015

A Tale of Gain and Loss

I'd been crying about it all week. The scales. Mum wanted me to go in last Thursday to talk to the dietician about it, but I didn't even want to go in on Tuesday. But I did.

She wasn't there when I arrived. My anxiety peaked when I heard her walk in. I tried to force a smile as she walked past and said good morning, but I don't think I managed it. I felt sick. I didn't want to talk to her about it, but I couldn't not talk to her about it either. I wanted to run and leave before she came back out. But I didn't.

She asked the usual questions - how's your week been, intake, have I been cooking, leaving the house, sewing. I could barely say two words.
"Have you been pretty quiet this week?"
"No... I don't know."

She asks what's wrong, and I eventually force out the dreaded words.
"I've gained weight."

"What makes you say that?"
"I've been weighing myself on the Wii (more on this later), my body feels different and I'm not stupid."
I told her the weights I'd scribbled down.

Just before I started seeing her, on my proper scales, I weighed 47.4kg (BMI 13.7).
Last January, on the same proper scales, I weighed 43.7 (BMI 12.6)
The weeks following, I weighed between 45-47kg on the Wii Fit.
As of today, I'm... 50.2 on the Wii.

She looked at her computer
"Do you want to know numbers?"
"It doesn't matter any more."
At that point, she could've told me exactly what I weighed clothed-and-coffee'd each week for the last three years and I wouldn't have cared less. I didn't even get on her scales this week. When I saw my GP two days later, she had my weight screen up and I just stared at it. So much for turning my head whenever the dietician types in my weight.

She said that from last January (43.7), I went up a shocking 8-fucking-kilograms between then and September/October (approx. 51.7kg, BMI 14.9), but have lost about 4kg since (approx. 47.7kg, BMI 13.8).
( another kilo since she last weighed me)

I wanted to die.

"That's like a kilo a month... Why didn't you say anything?"
"I did, like I do each week."

Okay, quick break here to explain how my blind weighing supposedly works. When I first met the dietician, I told her I wanted to stop weighing myself but still have an idea without having to know exact numbers. She asked what I did want to know, and we agreed she'd tell me if I gained or lost each week (no numbers), and if I started to gain or lose outside of a normal maintenance range (say, 2-3kg either side?)
It's not like I gained every week. The occurrence of gain vs loss wasn't that different to any other time, but obviously the amount was.

"But when I was losing, before last January, you'd sit down every week after telling me if I'd gained/lost and say 'there's a pattern forming, you're losing weight, you need to see your GP, you need to drink Ensure, you need to eat more' - not just whether I'd gained or lost that week. It wasn't just a fluctuation, and you made it clear."
"But what would that do to you, if I did say 'you're gaining weight'?"

What would that frikkin' do to me?!
I asked her to. It'd mean I could trust her. It would mean she was actually monitoring my weight and keeping me informed. It would mean I'd be aware of it, not surprised by it when it's already added up. It would mean I don't have to keep weighing myself at home.

It's not like I ever expected her to encourage me to stop gaining or eat less. But it would've been nice if just told me.

She asked what triggered all of this. I said I wasn't an idiot, I knew I'd gained, my body feels different and it's not dysmorphia. I just stupidly hoped the gain would be more like 5kg, not 8. The Wii Fit proved it earlier this year, and I was tired of it being the elephant in the room. I was tired of her saying "down a little bit, nothing to be worried about, but we'll keep an eye on it" when my weight drops. We both knew but no one was talking about it and I had to talk about it

We went back and forth for a while before she just said
"Look, we're never going to reach a consensus on this, I'm not arguing about it any more."
"I'm not trying to argue..."

I tried to talk but I just kept crying and she was getting more and more fed up with me. I was sat there crying like a loon, not understanding why she didn't just say something.
Eventually she just said "I'm not talking to you about this any more."
And so I left.

I didn't even get to say my piece. She thinks I'm angry and argumentative because I've gained weight, when it's not like that at all. I just feel so incredibly sad, I don't understand why she didn't tell me.

And it sucks because I really did try to talk it through. I wanted to bolt when she said "8 kilos", but I didn't. I didn't want to run out upset and carry it for another week. But she didn't even want to talk about it so now I'm carrying it heavier than before.

I's not even really about how much I'd gained, or even that I'd gained. It's not about the fact she did do the right thing medically to try to get my weight back up a little. My problem is that I trusted her to at least tell me when I started to gain outside fluctuations, just like she did when I was losing, and now I feel like she'd only tell me what she chooses to. I didn't expect to hear "eat less, lose weight". But I did expect to hear "your weight is definitely increasing" as an objective fact.

This is going to sound crazy, but if anyone's going to understand, it's you guys.
I put a lot of trust in her when I stopped weighing myself on the reg and started letting her weigh me. This isn't forced. I didn't start seeing her because I had to, and I don't need to be weighed. It was the first time I'd volunteered to be weighed by anyone. Unless I was sectioned or in hospital, I refused to let doctors weigh me (though I'd tell them with honesty what I weighed that morning).

And I let her weigh me because I couldn't handle the stress any more. I couldn't cope with weighing myself and being so knocked down by every little gain, and every not-big-enough loss. I thought, she said, she'd actually monitor my weight and be honest with me so I could have an idea of what I weighed without having to know a number, not sugar-coat it and only tell me what she chooses to. It was the one reason I didn't have to weigh myself at home.

It was such a deep, personal thing to let her weigh me, and in a way I feel she's damaged that trust. Then I feel like an idiot for entrusting such a personal responsibility to someone else. I'm so upset, and it's not just about the weight, but it feels like I'm being completely ridiculous, but it really hurts, you guys.

How could I trust her to tell me before I gained another 8kg? I don't even want to think about it. It feels like a disease, spreading through my body, but I caught it just in time.

Now I have to keep weighing myself at home. I mentioned before, I've been weighing myself on the Wii Fit. It's been an on-and-off thing for the last few months, plus a month after last January's weigh-in. I don't do it everyday, just three or four days a week. I'm still too scared to see my real, accurate, naked-and-void weight on the bathroom scales. The Wii makes it less real, since I don't know my actual weight.

I'm not 100% sure when I'm going to allow myself the real bathroom scale. The temptation is huge, but at the same time, there's a comfort in not knowing my exact weight. The Wii has never matched my scales, but I still know I've lost 3kg since the start of the year. From the dietician, I know I'm around 4kg higher than I was last January. That's enough. For now, at least.

I've just been a wreck about it. I'd been crying all week, since the Tuesday before when everything hit me, and I've been crying all week since. Everything just keeps on stacking up. I can't take it and I can't articulate how I feel. So overwhelmed, so scared, so very low.

Now I have my appointment with her tomorrow and I still don't want to go but I know I should but I'm just dreading it. I can't just go in and pretend that everything's fine, it's not.

I don't even know if I should keep seeing her. I haven't been actively upping my intake for some time, we don’t talk much about actual nutrition and food choices (beyond deficiencies/supplements), there's no benefit of her weighing me any more. She gives me support, but I don't know how much support I even want any more. I'm just so tired of everything.

Please excuse me while I die of shame. I don't know what'd be worse - telling you all I've gained such a horrific amount, or just saying I've gained and letting you assume even worse. I feel utterly disgusted with myself.

Off-topic, and I know this is long enough, but I got a new pair of shoes a few weeks ago. I haven't had the chance to wear them out yet, but I finally took some photos.

They immediately reminded me of a pair of shoes I had when I was 15/16 years
old. I found them at an op shop and wore them 'til they fell apart.
I hadn't bought new shoes in years, but I had my eyes set on three pairs from the Wittner end-of-season clearance. This is the final pair.

I don't like talking money, but these were worth the wait. The first two pairs were bought on clearance, but then they added an extra 20% offer. These ended up costing just $31 AUD, down from $169.

10.5cm heel, oh baby


Saturday, 14 February 2015

Escape & Avoid

I know I haven't said much since the mental health nurse left. I don't want to even think about it, let alone write about it.
(Avoidance, much?)
So I'm going to try to do a bit of an overdue update

I saw my GP this week, which was mostly trying to figure out 'where to from here'. She panicked me a bit, because she said she was going to do this mental health assessment about both my history and current situation. She thought she'd be able to fill out most of it without asking too many questions. Panic. I said I didn't want her answering them without asking me, it makes me so uncomfortable it isn't even funny. In the big picture she hasn't been my GP long enough to really know my history.

That was going to be unpleasant, but then she offhandedly mentioned that the subsidy from doing the assessment would be around $85 per session, when I know the new MHN's fee is less than that. It turns out she was under the impression I was going to see a psych. Defences up, I start rambling that I wasn't going to see a psych, that it wasn't the plan and it's not okay. But it was just a mix-up in communication somewhere - she thought the new mental health nurse was a psychologist (she's a Registered Nurse) - so I didn't need the assessment at all.

She still wants to leave it a month until she puts in the referral. At the moment I've lost enough motivation to not want to rush into it anyway, so I'm over that. Part of me was even hoping it'd be optional.
"But you need to do it soon. We can't put it off until next year, or even later this year."
"I'm not trying to."

Until then, I'm still hopefully meeting the MHN off-the-books in a few weeks, but beyond that I think that's it. My GP did make an amazing offer though, that she'll try to work a spare room at the clinic for us so it stays within my comfort zone, even though they shouldn't because she doesn't work there any more. I can't even put into words the stress that takes off my shoulders. I wasn't sure if I could do it at all if she had to come into the house or I had to go elsewhere.

Outside appointments, I don't really know how to write about how I'm doing or what I'm feeling right now. I don't want to think about it. I'm journalling a lot, but it's... fragments. Rambles. Rants. Lists of one-word feelings. I can't piece it together.

I'm just not functioning. Everything seems so overwhelming. It's like I'm swimming against the tide. Too many days pass and I've done nothing but stare at the wall and smoke and pick at my skin and breakdown and cry and hurt myself. I'm brimming, overflowing, with anxiety. I try to keep distracted when I can, reading blogs or immersing myself in gaming or binge-watching the same old TV and movie series, but sometimes it's all too much and I'm just... trying to get through the day in the least distress possible.

I just feel so alone. So lost. Scared. I want to shrink away and hide from the world where nothing can reach me.

My sleep is still messing with me, but I think it might be because I haven't been remembering my meds 100% of the time. I have those little weekly pill cases to keep them all organized, and at the end of the week I looked at it and saw I'd only taken my meds 9 times out of 21. Sometimes I forget to take them, but honestly, sometimes I just don't care enough. I've been pretty good these past few days though, so hopefully that'll help

It's kinda nice though, the nights I stay up (though I prefer them when I do get some sleep). It's my time where I don't have to think or do. It's the only time of day I get some respite from the constant anxiety and thoughts and pressure.

When I went to see the dietician, mum's little blue car was being repaired, so we took my brother's big red car. Now, you must understand that I have the earliest appointment of the day, and there's only ever our car in the parking lot. The dietician usually gets there a few minutes after us - it's actually become a bit of a running joke to see who gets there first - and it always throws her for a loop when mum's little blue car isn't there.

"I thought maybe you'd done something and ended up in A&E, what with the MHN and all..."

And thank you guys for your amazing feedback on my aprons. It means a lot, really. I get extremely self-judgemental about my sewing ( case you hadn't noticed...) Honestly, when I first complete a project, I usually end up either frustrated, hating myself, or crying.

When I last saw the MHN she asked if I could make her one. Red gingham. She loves aprons. I might talk to her about it next time, and I can always post it to her office to take some of the deadline pressure off. Sewing's yet another one of those things that's just too much right now (though I am slowly working on a couple of itty bitty dresses I promised one of the Blogger mommies)


Sunday, 8 February 2015

Five Special Aprons for Five Special Ladies

Just a short post today, mostly pictures of a few special sewing projects.

The past few weeks have been a mess. I don't know what I'm doing with myself. I feel so empty and lost and alone, I just want to retreat and isolate.

I'm just... ugh. Trying to get my thoughts together, struggling to find words. There's nothing to say.  My sleeping patterns are also a wreck. I'm either not sleeping at all or can't keep my eyes open. Currently it's the former - I've been up since 5am Saturday and it's 8pm Sunday now. It's a mess. But I just wanted to check in with you guys. I'll try to write something more later this week.

Anyway, so a little about these aprons themselves before I bombard you with pictures.

I was horribly late with my Christmas mail, and only sent it out a few weeks ago. Among the bounty included five handmade aprons.

I started planning them in October, and finished them in December. Not being able to just walk into a fabric shop and browse, I was limited, and had to settle for what fabrics I could find online. It also meant I had to know exactly what I wanted to make before I even saw the fabric. I picked up a few little things like buttons and trims when I went to Warrnambool in November, which was my first time going into a fabric store for years, and mum helped track down the rest.

I wanted to make more, but I overwhelmed myself and ended up crashing and not even doing the matching oven mitts. I was planning on having them finished and in the post to arrive by Christmas, which shouldn't have been too hard, but obviously didn't happen. It took me two months to do what should've taken two weeks, at most.

I hope you guys haven't suddenly realized that I'm not that great a sewer, now you've seen them up close in person.

So, pictures! I've given them brief names in the time I was working on them, so here I have for you (in order of appearance): Daisies, Cherries, Cupcakes, Floral, and Oranges & Lemons aprons.

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The bow is detachable. It took me over an hour to tie it just so. (and yes, it was originally going to be purple)

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P.S, I tried to make them as one-size as possible, so I really, really hope I didn't offend anyone with bits being too long/short/big/small.