I watched American Psycho yesterday. It's been a few years since I've seen it, and one of the things that really stood out this time was Patrick Bateman's struggle with his own sense of being real. I realize he's a fictional character, but as it's a subject I've hit on and thought about often, I considered it worth noting. Patrick was based on the idea of a lot of people around that time.
I sometimes wonder if I suffer from Narcissism, but the fact that Narcissists tend to not accept reality or even their place in it makes me think I'm not. I'm quite grounded in my idea of being real, even if it's more of an internal thing with me than external. Honestly, the external just seems to be a source of annoyance. Right now my brain is happy. My body is hot, in pain, needs to pee, and trying its best to get a headache.
If there was any way we could separate out of reality, I would love that. I hate my body. I don't hate it because it's not conventionally beautiful. I actually enjoy the curves, stretch marks, hair, and distortions. I hate my body's constant pain. I hate its constant needs. I hate its constant discomfort, how quickly it gets dirty, how there is always a need for adjustments and small struggles just to make it through the day. I hate THAT part of it . . . you know, the reality of it.
I'm also bored with it. I'm bored with all of its needs and complaints. My brain has better things to do. I have better things to do.
I realize I just spent the last part of this post talking about my body as something separate from me . . . which means my detachment and disassociation continues.
Reality is a bitch.
Saturday, September 1, 2018
Friday, August 31, 2018
Oh Good More Pain
Somehow I managed to step down wrong and now my foot is killing me. It's the foot on my good leg, which makes it even more frustrating. Now I'm kind of gimping along in two directions. Walking is even more hellish than it was before.
This is so frustrating. What's worse is that I'd been told (and let myself believe) that I would have my wheelchair by now. That wouldn't help me in the house, but it would help when I had to go out and do things. Now I have this horrible foot pain and no idea when I'll get relief from it. I could just cry.
This is so frustrating. What's worse is that I'd been told (and let myself believe) that I would have my wheelchair by now. That wouldn't help me in the house, but it would help when I had to go out and do things. Now I have this horrible foot pain and no idea when I'll get relief from it. I could just cry.
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Comfort
For some reason, today my mind sent me into a memory tizzy about my many embarrassing and failing moments in middle school.
One of those happened when I was at a band contest. We had to dress formally for the performance and this meant my fat self would be standing around in shoes with high heels. I did my best to handle this. It was cold outside, so I borrowed my grandmother's black dress boots. It would give me a thicker heel and more ankle support. It was a good idea, but it wasn't enough. The strain on my feet was murder and I ended up removing the shoes as we were still in line to play. I felt like an utter fat little loser.
Later today, I read this article about how women's clothing takes a physical and emotional toll on the women who opt to participate in the conventional feminine way of dressing. As I read it, I thought about how I have no memories of what music we played or how well we did. I don't know what happened before or after that performance. But I can vividly recall the pain my feet were in and the pain my mind was in as I struggled to take them off or not.
The thing is, I now realize this situation, while embarrassing, was not really a failure on my part. I could have dressed comfortably but still looked formal enough. The problem wasn't me or society or shoes or anything besides just me not understanding how to advocate for my own comfort.
I wish as a kid I would have known how to communicate with those around me 'this doesn't work for me so let's look for other solutions.' I wish I could have pointed out that hose left my inner thighs bloody, that flats would leave blisters, that shirts needed to be longer so they wouldn't ride up due to my boobs, that pants needed to be bigger because they were digging into my belly so much it would leave cuts.
All of this stuff was embarrassing because almost all of it was due to the fact that I was fat. The thing is, they KNEW I was fat. It wasn't like me reminding them of it would suddenly place the idea in their heads. I had different clothing needs than other people.
When it comes to your own comfort, as it is with your own safety, you need to communicate with the people around you about what works for you. You can't assume they will know, especially if you come in a category they're not used to. Speak up. Say what you need. Say what doesn't work. You have a right to go through life with the tools that work for you.
One of those happened when I was at a band contest. We had to dress formally for the performance and this meant my fat self would be standing around in shoes with high heels. I did my best to handle this. It was cold outside, so I borrowed my grandmother's black dress boots. It would give me a thicker heel and more ankle support. It was a good idea, but it wasn't enough. The strain on my feet was murder and I ended up removing the shoes as we were still in line to play. I felt like an utter fat little loser.
Later today, I read this article about how women's clothing takes a physical and emotional toll on the women who opt to participate in the conventional feminine way of dressing. As I read it, I thought about how I have no memories of what music we played or how well we did. I don't know what happened before or after that performance. But I can vividly recall the pain my feet were in and the pain my mind was in as I struggled to take them off or not.
The thing is, I now realize this situation, while embarrassing, was not really a failure on my part. I could have dressed comfortably but still looked formal enough. The problem wasn't me or society or shoes or anything besides just me not understanding how to advocate for my own comfort.
I wish as a kid I would have known how to communicate with those around me 'this doesn't work for me so let's look for other solutions.' I wish I could have pointed out that hose left my inner thighs bloody, that flats would leave blisters, that shirts needed to be longer so they wouldn't ride up due to my boobs, that pants needed to be bigger because they were digging into my belly so much it would leave cuts.
All of this stuff was embarrassing because almost all of it was due to the fact that I was fat. The thing is, they KNEW I was fat. It wasn't like me reminding them of it would suddenly place the idea in their heads. I had different clothing needs than other people.
When it comes to your own comfort, as it is with your own safety, you need to communicate with the people around you about what works for you. You can't assume they will know, especially if you come in a category they're not used to. Speak up. Say what you need. Say what doesn't work. You have a right to go through life with the tools that work for you.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Life Piling Up
I'm building a collection of papers on my desk again. Tomorrow, I will deal with them. I don't even think they're of any importance. They're just piling up.
I've been in considerable pain since the trip. Well, before the trip, really. I've been rehabbing as much as I can, but it isn't helping. I'm sure summer has a lot to do with this. I'll do what I can. It's never enough.
My nephew asked me to play a game with him online. I decided I would because he's never really asked me to do anything before and it seems like a fun little game. It's like playing pool, only you hit people in the process.
Tomorrow, we pay a bill. I hope September is an easy month.
I've been in considerable pain since the trip. Well, before the trip, really. I've been rehabbing as much as I can, but it isn't helping. I'm sure summer has a lot to do with this. I'll do what I can. It's never enough.
My nephew asked me to play a game with him online. I decided I would because he's never really asked me to do anything before and it seems like a fun little game. It's like playing pool, only you hit people in the process.
Tomorrow, we pay a bill. I hope September is an easy month.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Relationship Rules
I heard several stories this weekend that really upset me. It seems that people will tolerate things in romantic relationships that they really should not tolerate. There are certain rules that should apply to any romantic relationship, no matter what the gender (or lack thereof) of the people involved.
1. You are respected. You are treated with kindness and spoken to in a respectful manner. There is no constant criticism. There is no namecalling. Even when this person is angry at you, if you are intimate with them, they should treat you respectfully.
2. You do not allow anyone to hit you. Violence is not a part of a healthy relationship. Lashing out isn't the sign of a healthy person. They are not violent to you, any children you may have, or any pets. Violence is not a sign of strength, it is a sign of a weak person who cannot control their emotions. Remove yourself from this person as soon as possible.
3. The relationship is equal. Problems are solved together. Decisions are made together. There is a balance of responsibilities in terms of who does what. No one should be my mother who would work a full-time job, then come home and clean while her husband sat on his ass and contributed no money or help at all. You might say that this isn't always the case because one person may be too unhealthy to do a lot of chores. You might even point out that this person is me. My comment back to that is that I'm not in a romantic relationship with anyone, nor should I be until I am a healthy person.
4. All of this should be communicated before the relationship ever starts. If you find yourself at the potential beginning of a relationship, a conversation needs to be held about everyone's needs and expectations.
I will respect you and you will respect me.
There will be no violence on the part of either of us.
Rights and responsibilities will be shared equally.
If the other person isn't interested in this, then do not be in a relationship with them. You can't change their minds. You won't make them better. If they can't treat you well, then they are not worth being with. It will only cost you time and effort with no payout.
1. You are respected. You are treated with kindness and spoken to in a respectful manner. There is no constant criticism. There is no namecalling. Even when this person is angry at you, if you are intimate with them, they should treat you respectfully.
2. You do not allow anyone to hit you. Violence is not a part of a healthy relationship. Lashing out isn't the sign of a healthy person. They are not violent to you, any children you may have, or any pets. Violence is not a sign of strength, it is a sign of a weak person who cannot control their emotions. Remove yourself from this person as soon as possible.
3. The relationship is equal. Problems are solved together. Decisions are made together. There is a balance of responsibilities in terms of who does what. No one should be my mother who would work a full-time job, then come home and clean while her husband sat on his ass and contributed no money or help at all. You might say that this isn't always the case because one person may be too unhealthy to do a lot of chores. You might even point out that this person is me. My comment back to that is that I'm not in a romantic relationship with anyone, nor should I be until I am a healthy person.
4. All of this should be communicated before the relationship ever starts. If you find yourself at the potential beginning of a relationship, a conversation needs to be held about everyone's needs and expectations.
I will respect you and you will respect me.
There will be no violence on the part of either of us.
Rights and responsibilities will be shared equally.
If the other person isn't interested in this, then do not be in a relationship with them. You can't change their minds. You won't make them better. If they can't treat you well, then they are not worth being with. It will only cost you time and effort with no payout.
Monday, August 27, 2018
Post Visit
Yesterday was a LOT. It was good to see my uncle, but I'm really not used to dealing with people in my house for that long. I'm quiet by nature and talking that much just really isn't my gig. There are only a select few people I can do that with.
Then my brother and his family came over. They were only here for 15 minutes, but it still exhausted me. Just too many people in one room, too many people in MY room. Uggh.
This is the last week of August and I'm happy about that. August has been a very busy month and everything that happened has required days of recovery. I need a quiet Fall so I can deal with all that holiday stuff at the end of the year.
Then my brother and his family came over. They were only here for 15 minutes, but it still exhausted me. Just too many people in one room, too many people in MY room. Uggh.
This is the last week of August and I'm happy about that. August has been a very busy month and everything that happened has required days of recovery. I need a quiet Fall so I can deal with all that holiday stuff at the end of the year.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Blanked
I have no idea why I haven't blogged in two days. I guess I just blanked. I'm not sure. I was on a lot of medication for the infection caused by the gyno visit. Perhaps it was that. It's not been the most comfortable of weeks for me.
Any week I have to go to Tulsa never is. Well, okay, to be fair, I was mostly okay (other than being tired) when I would go up with my roommate, however, when it comes to these trips to the gyno, it's never comfortable. With few exceptions, every one of these trips stands out in my mind for rather bad reasons. I had panic attacks. I got hives. I had major leakage. I felt violated. It's never been easy.
Fortunately, after next year, I won't have to go there. I'll be discharged from their care and I can see whatever medical professional I wish for gyno exams. That's awesome.
Any week I have to go to Tulsa never is. Well, okay, to be fair, I was mostly okay (other than being tired) when I would go up with my roommate, however, when it comes to these trips to the gyno, it's never comfortable. With few exceptions, every one of these trips stands out in my mind for rather bad reasons. I had panic attacks. I got hives. I had major leakage. I felt violated. It's never been easy.
Fortunately, after next year, I won't have to go there. I'll be discharged from their care and I can see whatever medical professional I wish for gyno exams. That's awesome.
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