Resting bitch face…

I wasn’t going to write anything today because its quite late and I’ve had yet another crappy day which I wanted to forget, but I think writing this blog will be cathartic.  So here goes!

I’ve felt angry and frustrated all day.  I’ve had to bite my tongue (actually my bottom lip) to stop from exploding in a fit of rage or from having a complete emotional breakdown.  I’m not sure if I’m frustrated with myself or whether I’m mainly frustrated with everyone around me.   I’ve previously mentioned that I’m not a small woman, but neither am I tall; I’m almost as round as I am tall and I’m only 5’4″, yet somehow I feel invisible.  I feel taken advantage of and ignored.  I try to be a nice person.  I try to be considerate of others needs, sometimes to the detriment of myself.  I try to treat others how I’d like to be treated but how is it, I never seem to be treated that way; with respect, compassion, understanding, kindness etc.  I think I’ve got one of those faces i.e. resting bitch face, but all I am is fearful, and a little shy.  You see, I don’t fit in.  I never have.  I think I was never socialised properly as a kid.  I feel too clever or too stupid in any group of people; either way, I always feel I’m trying to be what is expected of me, rather than being myself.

Endless repeat…

The purpose of my life seems to have ground to a halt.  I feel completely lost and cut off from everything, even my own desires.  I don’t have any focus; I feel I am merely counting down the days to the inevitable.  I feel imprisoned in my own body.  Physically and mentally I am worn down; unable to rouse myself to do anything.  I’m on auto-pilot going to work, and zombie-mode at home.  Every day seems the same.  Get up, go to work, come home, make dinner, go to bed.  Get up, go to work, come home, make dinner, go to bed.  Get up, go to work, come home, make dinner, go to bed.  Get up, go to work, come home, make dinner, go to bed… on endless repeat, peppered with chores of equal repetition; washing, cleaning, cooking, laundry, shopping…  This isn’t the life I ordered.  Mine was meant to be fun, full of laughs, full of exciting people, exotic locations, fast cars, hi-tech, warm, sunny (but not too hot) days and warm, twinkly nights.  You know, the life you see regurgitated 24-hours a-day on TV, in magazines, in books, on the side of  bus shelters…fucking everywhere.  I don’t know anyone who lives like that…everyone lives like me, lost and cut off from everything, physically drained and exhausted by the pressures of trying to get the life they see on the billboards, on the TV and in the magazines.  Here’s real life…

Nobody is celebrating this shit on their Facebook or Instagram.  There is no car advert  depicting the rain on the windscreen on a cold, wet, day in the Lidl car park (this is actually British summer time).  The view of your shitty office from your desk; armed Police on the street after the terror incident!

Life is hard and boring, but if you are very lucky you may get a job you like, which pays a reasonable salary, so you can buy stuff to distract you from the fact your life is hard and boring.  Another endless cycle.  Its not all bad, there’s the internet.  A fabulous tool which has the ability to make you feel better and worse about yourself in the same millisecond.  Thankfully, it also has kittens…the perfect antidote to all life’s ills and they don’t even know it!!

 

Eating rules…

Woke up today hoping for a better day.  I put on my new compression stockings hoping they would control my big, wobbly legs and stop them being so achy; my old ones have been washed so often they’re no longer are as compression-y as I’d like them to be.  I’m not expecting miracles though, I was a bit disappointed with the consultation last week.  It was a new woman (shame the old one had to move on, she was fabulous) and I wasn’t too impressed by her; she didn’t measure my legs she just had a brief look, said OK, ordered me four new pairs and discharged me from the service.  NHS cut-backs; got to love those Tories!!  In addition, I had my hot lemon drink so by the time I left for work I was feeling quite positive.

Surprise, surprise…it was short-lived.  There was no bread in the house so I could not take my toast as usual.  And if there was no toast, there was no point taking a coconut milk latte.  Therefore, I had no option but to buy breakfast on the way to work.  Goddammit!! I ended up having a bacon roll and a normal latte from EAT; such a hardship.  It was very tasty but I knew the usual tears and bitter recriminations would follow, not immediately, but as some point later in the day.  Why is it, that as soon as I’ve eaten something unplanned or without thinking, I somehow feel the whole day is a write-off and give myself a holiday from the stupid eating rules I enforce on myself.  Unfortunately, this scenario crops up most days, so I never really follow the eating rules I set for myself.  Unless of course you count the days when this scenario rears its ugly head very late on, then I give myself partial credit; I kid myself I’ve been successful up until that point.  Anyway because things went tits-up early on, lunch was easy.  I no longer had to think about having something healthy, nutritious…I ended up having the left-over brioche buns from our burger dinner the other night laden with butter and cheese.  Not too bad, until you find out I followed this with another milky coffee and half a dozen chocolate biscuits (just wee ones).  See what I mean, a leave of absence from reality!!

The whole food/eating thing has become toxic.  I no longer trust myself.  I don’t know when or if I’m hungry or what I’m hungry for.  Unlike a lot of people, I don’t overeat, as such (I strongly believe this) but I do eat all the wrong things, or so I’m led to believe.  The thing is I no longer know who to trust or believe.  Everyone seems to have an idea, or a plan, but when you look closely at it they’re only doing it to better their own bank accounts.  My plan would be to be put into a medical coma for six months and placed on a toning table.  Can you imagine waking from the best sleep of your life to find the body you hated had been replaced with a leaner one.  I can only see two drawbacks of this; the first, if you lose too much weight you may be left with too much skin and not enough muscle to fill it, thereby looking like a bag of spanners.  The other problem is, it may take time to be accepted by all your friends and family; they’re going to hate you for looking so fabulous.  Now all I need is to figure out where I could get the funding for this idea?

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I love the look of fear on this lady’s face…

Continue reading “Eating rules…”

Wazok

I had a bad start to the day as I’d had trouble sleeping.  I was kept awake worrying about one of my older cats, Remi, who seems a bit delicate at the moment.  She’s quite old (15 years) and sometimes she takes it upon herself to act like a complete Wazok (avoiding food).  Anyway, I didn’t manage to start the day with the hot lemon drink as planned, so I ended up with a coconut milk latte, some spelt toast, butter and Marmite.

After finishing my five hours work (I’m a temporary medical secretary in a hospital) I planned to pick up some ‘szoupa soup’ (new cat food soup pouches) for Remi, to see if these would entice her to eat.  Unfortunately, they didn’t have any in the local shop so I ended up having to take a trip to the local supermarket.  I find these shops exhausting.  There is too much stuff, most of it ‘frankenfood’ but having had no lunch, it all looked appealing.  I succumbed to crisps and chocolate just to stave off the hunger.  This was not a good idea as it gave me ‘shoogly’ leg syndrome; feels like something crawling around under my skin making my legs achy and jerk around.  However, it was not a wasted trip, Remi did at least eat some of the soup, so did her siblings; Popi, Mili and Izzi.

Continue reading “Wazok”

Fucking lunch…

Was working ’til 1:00pm. I’d bought two new pairs of varifocals, a week past Saturday; one pair was fine but the other didn’t seem right.  I’d worn them for a couple of days but then stopped because they gave me a headache.  I decided to come into town and get them sorted out (they cost a small fortune).  The chap in the shop (who was about 15 years-old) fiddled about with them and said I should try wandering around to see if they felt better.  Decided to stop for a spot of lunch at EAT, my feet were aching, it was awfy hot and I think the adjustment to my glasses was making me feel sick.  Also, I was wearing half-leg compression stockings which doesn’t help in the heat.  I chose a tuna and cheese melt along with a latte for lunch.

 

Lunch was delicious, but afterwards, the guilt and shame for succumbing to something so yummy hit me hard; you’d think I’d just eaten an entire three tier wedding cake?  But earlier every time I caught sight of myself in a mirror I was completely taken aback.  I hardly recognised myself; I looked so fat!  The mirrors at home didn’t make me look so bad; were the mirrors in  town different?  I would have thought, if anything, they would make you look better so as to lull you into buying more shit you don’t need.  Whatever… I looked and felt horrendous now, so much for this morning’s positive new beginning, feeling good and righteous after my hot lemon drink.  If it wasn’t so tragic it would be funny; all that positivity undone by lunch.  Story of my life.  It’s just a regular sandwich, people eat this sort of shit every day, but to me its a reminder of my continued striving and suffering; a symbol of everything I hate and despise about myself, all doughy and warm just like my big, fat, useless body.  (I’m hoping this approach is therapeutic; if I put all my negativity into the internet maybe I’ll be left with love and acceptance; that’s the plan anyway). 

Over lunch I checked my ‘phone for updates; now I am feeling more defeated. I have just read #Maybot has done a deal with the  #DUP costing £1bn.  I can’t put into words the level of bile I’m desperately trying to hold back. What happened to human decency? When did we let the psychopaths, sociopaths, narcissists, sycophants and all manner of human detritus loose in government with no checks and balances?  I, like most people, have no problem paying my way but I am sick and tired of a small gaggle of the uber wealthy taking more than their fare share.  When are the sheep of this country (world) going to wake up and realise we are being exploited and its not the undeserving poor we need to fear but the rich and powerful. Vive la Revolution.

 

Sunday bloody Sunday…

Yet another horrible day.  This time due to severe aches and pains and a cottonwool-like feeling in my head.  I’ve struggled to get motivated today but I am feeling generally low in mood.  I feel genuinely unwell but at the same time I feel I’m being a hypochondriac.  I’m totally obsessed with food, believing it is the cause of all my ills and if only I could eat better then I would feel better and have a good life.  I know it’s not that simple but I really struggle trying to find another cause for my woes.  I feel stuck in a chicken and egg scenario of what came first; weight problems caused by lipoedema or lipoedema causing weight problems.  In addition to this, fibromyalgia due to weight problems and lipoedema or fibromyalgia as a result of weight problems, lipoedema and the added complication of a bad diet.  Aaarrggghhh..

There is a lot of information out there on the internet but it is very difficult to actually speak to someone, particularly in the medical profession, who can see past the weight and understand the mental, as well, as physical limitations of these conditions.  I’m sick of hearing ‘lose weight and exercise’ as if this in itself will cure all.  For one, exercise is difficult when every part of your being aches; all my joints, my knees especially, and its difficult to find shoes which are comfy and supportive, just to go out for a walk.  That’s why I tend to obsess about food.  In the past its generally been about dieting; less calories in will result in weight loss.  However, over the years and much research later it has shown that this is not necessarily the case and it seems to be more about what you eat rather then how much.  Yet again I’ve researched, trying to find something that works for me.  Last year I had limited success with LCHF, although I felt a bit better (less pain, better mood) the weight didn’t seem to budge.  However, as is generally the case, it is difficult to stick to this type of eating pattern without a serious commitment and good organisation.  Both of which wane in time, especially when those around you are tucking into everything and anything.  Every day feels like a battle, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, drinks; good food, bad food; can’t have, won’t have, should have, shouldn’t have; an endless fucking cycle.

Many have said ‘all it takes is small changes’, so years ago I gave up eating snacks especially those at work (birthday cakes, TFIF cakes etc.) and stuck to just three meals a-day.  Did it make any difference, did it fuck!  I sometimes wish I could be that person who eats shit all day; fast food, crisps, sweets, cakes, drinks fizzy pop etc. so that I could give something up just to see the difference it would make.  Now don’t get me wrong, my diet isn’t all lettuce leaves and cucumbers but it is reasonably healthy, my biggest failings are bread, butter and cheese.  Even then, I’ve moved over to spelt flour, not all the time but definitely more than normal wheat bread.  Has that made a difference – nope.  I don’t drink alcohol.  I gave up smoking many years ago.  I try to drink a lot of water.  None of it makes a difference.

In spite of this I’ve tried desperately to remain positive, always looking for new angles, but  as I’ve got older (now 52!) my positivity is drying up.  I used to get some comfort from clothes and shoes but even they are abandoning me.  Everything is made for tiny, little people.  Shoes are too narrow and they are so lightweight!!  I have small feet but they are broad,  therefore I need something that feels substantial that will last longer than it takes for me to walk home.  Clothes are worse, the fabrics are absolutely shit; again they are too lightweight, you can see what you had for breakfast through them.  The sizing’s are all wrong, there’s no seam allowances and the fashions themselves, OMG!!  I truly believe there is a conspiracy forcing overweight people to conform to measurements deemed acceptable by society and anyone refusing to conform are forced to buy clothes on the black market or go naked.   And fat-shaming will become and internet game or Saturday night prime time show.

Typing this as it is slowly moving from afternoon to evening, at last I’ve given in and taken some painkillers therefore I’m feeling less achy and painful; I am now moving into the guilt-phase of my condition.  Guilty for not eating better, guilty for not doing anything more productive, guilty for whinging and moaning but most of a guilty for feeling so self-absorbed.  Ah well, tomorrow is another day – back to work, doing for others which I wish I could do for myself.  Sunday bloody Sunday.

…my mum’s voice.

What a strange day.  I really don’t like weekends anymore.  During the week I manage to get on with the things I need to do, like go to work, get dinner ready and do a number of other crappy little chores before I flop down exhausted by the sheer effort of my tasks.  Come the weekend its full of expectation and very little enjoyment.  I feel enthusiastic about what I could do but then my physical limitations; the aches and pains in every joint and muscle, prevent me from doing anything.  Likewise, mentally if feel just as incapacitated; not knowing what to do, where to go, how to spend my time.  Lately, I feel lost in my own life.  I spend too much time faffing around on Facebook and watching TV,  watching other people live their lives; envious of their physical freedom, their friends, and their families.

Here in Birmingham its just me and Dave and our four cats; Mili, Remi, Popi and Izzi.  Our families are spread out over the UK.  My mum and dad in Edinburgh, my brother and is family in Glasgow and my sister and her family in Bristol.  Dave’s family are equally spread out; his mum and dad in Nottingham, two of his brothers in London and another brother in Reading with his (estranged?!) family.  Dave has mental health issues, he suffers panic attacks, has agoraphobia and, what I believe to be his worst problem, PDA (pathological demand avoidance); which means he is on the autistic spectrum.  This makes him difficult to live with sometimes, or should I say difficult to live with all the time but with some moments of fun, happiness and lightheartedness.  Don’t get me wrong I’m not without my problems; I’m 52 years-old, menopausal, awfy fat with fibromyalgia and lipoedema and I have a searing anger within me which I find difficult to control.  So, neither of us are having a great time at present.

I’m not sure where all this anger is coming from; internal frustration and my own limitations and disappointment at how my life has turned out or general frustration  towards others who I believe have let me down.  Either way, I know its not good for me to feel this way but I am struggling to find ways of coping that are not personally destructive or which just paper over the cracks.  In my head I hear this voice which says ‘suck it up, Paula other people have worse problems’.  I know this is my mum’s voice.

…scum of the earth.

For those who don’t know meine dunkleheit is german for ‘my darkness’.  The title is a little ambiguous; perhaps relating to my dark innermost thoughts but also giving a wee nod to my little dark friend Izzi (whom I affectionately call Der Kleine Dunkle).  She is by no means my only little friend (she’s just the youngest) she has three siblings; Remi, Mili and Popi (you’ll read more about them later).

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Izzi

Izzi is just over two years old and she’s a rescue cat.  We rescued her from the South Birmingham Cat’s Protection homing centre on 26 April 2015.  She is a very strange wee cat; very independent and determined.  She loves being outside and recently due to the long warm and sunny days we have hardly seen her save for a few minutes each day when she comes in for food.  She seems a very happy and contented wee cat.

I wish I was as happy and contented as wee Izzi… this week has been particularly difficult because it has been so hot; a British heatwave no less.  These heatwaves generally last 3-5 days but what makes them so unbearable is how quickly the temperature rises from around 15° shooting up to 28° almost overnight.  Also, in the Midlands (because we are land locked) there is no air, not the slightest breeze and the air feels heavy, like treacle.  Its hard to breathe, especially at night.  The slightest movement has me sweating profusely.  I seem to sweat out of my head therefore my hair always looks frizzy.  To be honest, I’m not so bothered about how I look its how I feel, exhausted,  swollen, achy and damp.  Also, I am quite overweight and have lipoedema and fibromyalgia; two conditions which do not tolerate the heat well.  More about that in subsequent posts…

The news this week has focused on the Grenfell Tower disaster and the aftermath of the general election.  I have read so much about both I feel sort of numb.  The Grenfell fire was horrifying, but not nearly as horrifying as all the ‘hearts and flowers’ bollocks that has been going on since.  It never ceases to amaze me how charitable and kind people appear to be after an event.  Before this fire, nobody seemed to gave a shit.  They still voted for the ridiculous policies of the Tories, but now everybody and his dog sees the logic of the Labour party under Jeremy Corbyn, and are preaching his policies as if they agreed with him all along.  People change their opinions and standpoint only when they are scared other people will think badly of them or they want to somehow further their own agenda/popularity or appease their own conscience.  Fucking Simon Cowell and all the other human detritus with their ‘song for Grenfell’ – it makes me puke.  They have to attach themselves to other people’s suffering for good press because they are the scum of the earth.