Another lesson in never asking for help.

I have a job interview tomorrow, it’s just a sales assistant position, but I haven’t been to an interview in a long time. I’m nervous. I’ve researched the company (A LOT) to try and prepare as much as possible but there are a few questions I’ve come across that I’m not too sure about.. I’ve worked in retail before, but not in a high street store.

I’ve already expressed my fears to my family, not just about the interview, but the prospect of going back to work at all.

This is where we need some background information!

In October 2015 I was diagnosed as epileptic. I’ve been epileptic since I was about seven, I was misdiagnosed. Anyway, it’s a long story… I didn’t know anything about epilepsy (at all) until the occupational health nurse at my old job suggested it (June 2015) following an ‘episode’ at work. I had to leave my role immediately for H&S reasons, I was offered work in a less safety critical position within the company, but it was a lot to come to terms with. I chose to leave while I awaited an appointment with a neurologist (and an official diagnoses), at the time I thought it’d be a great opportunity to concentrate on my final year of university (huge mistake, let’s save that for another time).

Biggest trigger for a seizure? STRESS.

Back to the present.

My sister works as a sales assistant in a rival store. She left school at 16 with no qualifications, no aspirations, no confidence. I got her that job. I wrote her CV, I did the psychometric test online, I filled out the entire online application. I helped her choose an outfit, I talked her through a typical interview, I researched the company for her. I supported her, I believed in her.

Today I asked her for some advice, because there were a few industry-specific questions I’d found, that could potentially be asked in the interview, that I was unsure of. Did I receive any help? Did I *BLEEP*!

She told me she was ‘too tired’ to give me some simple advice. Instead, she needed to go and sit at her computer talking to strangers online on her PC game.

I cried. Not because I even NEED her help, but because she is so self involved. The fact she can’t even spare ten minutes to help me, or offer me some support and encouragement when she *should* know what a big deal this is for me is hurtful.

Did I see myself as a 28 year old university dropout, unemployed, living back with my parents and 130lbs heavier two years ago? No, no I did not. I’m trying to reclaim my life, and the people who I have loved and supported (and am still supporting, because I CARE) can’t be there for me when I need them.

Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe I wish I could be as cold, so blissfully unfazed by the people around me and their feelings. It goes back to my previous rant on emotional vampires, she takes what she needs, but she gives nothing back. I shouldn’t be surprised, she has a serious track record for letting me down. To add insult to injury, I can still hear her talking to and laughing at her computer (over an hour later).

Anyway, all of this upset and instead of focusing on my interview preparation, I’m focusing on my sister. Isn’t that sweet, sweeeeet irony!

Lesson I must learn; The more you help people, the more they expect… It never encourages them to be more considerate, if anything, it seems to deter it.

Back to thinking about the interview

 

 

GP fail. A rage-fuelled post.

UPDATE

My GP was utterly useless, if this comes as any surprise? I explained in detail that my last focused attempt at weight loss was successful, but I had turned to comfort eating when life threw endless curveballs at me, to get me back to this point. 335lbs, give or take. I told him that although I know I can lose weight (as evidenced last time), I can’t motivate myself to to do so during the peaks and troughs of clinical depression.

He told me to start taking antidepressants again, I’m not allowed to take antidepressants long-term because it can reduce the effect of my other medication (which is more immediately important), hence ‘weaning’ off it 4 times in the past year and a half. The torturous inconsistency of being told by the GP, that I had to wean off as a matter of urgency, then told I must start up on it again, back and forth, highs and lows. It’s like putting a plaster on a gunshot wound. I almost screamed with rage.

Anyway, then he printed off a ‘leaflet’, 3 columns: Low-fat foods, medium-fat foods, high-fat foods. “Try and swap foods in this column *points to 3* with foods in this column *points to 1*, you should see some good results.”

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Teeth gritted, I thanked him politely and left… Before I had the chance to grab him by his mop of hair and smash his face through the wall.

He didn’t even weigh me. He didn’t offer me any tests. He didn’t offer me any help, other than to advise me to try a low-fat diet, which isn’t even a good idea for someone with my health condition (from my own research about it).

I have a BMI of 47. I read the NICE guidelines on obesity, with a BMI of over 40, I fulfil the criteria for weight loss surgery, bypassing the referral schemes and medications. I AM NOT HEALTHY and my GP won’t help me. I don’t even want surgery, but I also read about a team of people who prepare morbidly obese people for surgery; dieticians and psychologists… THOSE ARE THE PEOPLE I NEED.

But it’s not going to happen, this is the real world and this is my real life. I’m on my own, it’s all on me.

And for everyone who loves the NHS so much, I’m glad you won the postcode lottery. I think my next post will be about the times my immediate family members and I have been failed.

 

Emotional Vampires

Tomorrow I’ll be attending my GP appointment, where I will lay my deepest shame out in front of another human and beg for help. Naturally, I am terrified. Notably, because I’ve been failed SO many times before, I’m scared he will laugh me out of the office and I’ll be alone, embarrassed and defeated. I will turn to my one true love, the thing that never fails to comfort me in times of need; food.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the whole morbidly obese thing is just a symptom of my damage, I’m not ready to get into the nitty gritty of it all because, well, it’s effing complicated and it’s hard (pretty much impossible, tbh) to make it linear. So I’m going to break it down into sections and eventually I may be able to make sense of it, better yet, I may even be able to fix it.

So, let’s begin with the present. Aside from all the dissatisfaction that my horribly disappointing life provides, I have a close friend who is an emotional vampire (EV). In fact, without being mean, she hinders me and it’s becoming intolerable. Whenever I get (emotionally) back on my feet, find the motivation to improve myself and start the ball rolling, she appears with drama, narcissism and self-pity. She isn’t a bad person, but she’s bad for me. I’m too empathetic for my own good, I’m a sponge.

Yesterday, she called on me for my services. Her relationship over, self-harming resumed, the will to live dwindling. As a person who last attempted suicide just 9 months ago, this is harrowing to hear, and as I watched her young children (from a previous broken relationship) play in the background, all I could feel was hopelessness and despair. Her relationship IS broken, her partner doesn’t provide what she needs (as she informs me regularly, even when they are in a ‘good’ place), but how would she cope alone? She wouldn’t, she’s never been alone.

After a three hour counselling session from myself, we parted at her front door. I offered to come in and watch the kids while she took a nap, but she informed me her partner was still there and she’d get in touch later. I went home and cried. I wondered how long it would be until her next attempt, a successful attempt. I relived the horror and spectacle of the last time, the endless recovery and the impact it had on my life, then I brushed those feelings away, because that’s just selfish, isn’t it?

I’d heard nothing from her a couple of hours later, I knew she wouldn’t nap for too long, I messaged her to ask how she was doing and expressed my concern. I heard nothing back. I sat, staring at my phone, my stomach sinking and rising, my brain pulsating and pinching, my eyes heavy. I messaged her partner to ask if he was still there and while I waited for response, I envisioned the scene…

Rushing into her house, kids on the sofa watching TV, “Mummy is still asleep” they say, “She won’t wake up”… I creep upstairs and find her lifeless body. Fin. 

Then my phone lit up with a message from her partner, “I’m still here, we’ve been talking, we’re going to stay together”, shortly followed by a message from the EV herself “Thanks for today, we’re going to work it out, he wants to stay and I want him to.”

And that’s when I realised, I am her sponge. I took all her pain, frustration, fear and lived it. She went home, made up with her partner and didn’t spare a second thought. While they were cuddled up on the sofa, calling each other silly, denying the true issues in their relationship and lying to each other about how happy they are, I was sat alone, full.

This isn’t my first time, I attract these people. It started with my parents and it continues into my adult life. I can’t have healthy relationships because I’m either trapped with an EV, or recovering from one. Worse yet, if I meet a decent person, I BECOME THE EV, they become my sponge… It’s a never ending cycle.

 

 

Facing Reality

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Today, I stepped on the scale. Unimaginable horror stared back at me. The dial on the old spring scale shot right past the maximum, 21 stone mark and straight to almost 3 stone. I’m trying not to get upset, I’m trying to hold it together… I didn’t mentally prepare myself for this. I was almost certain I would be around 20 stone, I even thought to myself before stepping on the scale, “Maybe I’ll be pleasantly surprised!” Ha.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve been here. I’ve taken 95 steps forward and 136 back, in the last few years. That’s right, in 2014 I weighed 205 lbs, I was 35 lbs from my goal weight. Then my life fell apart, but more about that later.

I now weigh 336 lbs.

Today, I accept that I am killing myself. Today, I face my reality.

I have a mountain to climb. I have to lose 166 lbs. I have to CHANGE MY LIFE.

This weekend, I will plan and on Monday, I will begin. I’m not procrastinating, but I have a GP appointment Monday and I will address this issue and see what help is available, because I need help.

I guess this is controversial, because fat people are just greedy and lazy. Mental illness has nothing to do with it, right? Funnily enough, mental illness is still just as controversial as obesity. All I can say is, I’m happy for people who’ve never struggled with their weight and/or mental illness, but please don’t think you can understand me, until you’ve walked in my shoes. My entire life has lead me here, there is no ‘quick fix’.

So, this is my blog, this is where I will remain accountable. This is where I will talk candidly about mental illness, obesity and the struggle of trying to become a better me, in both mind and body. I invite you to join me in my journey, I need the support and I would love to support anyone else who needs it. I’m also happy to debate with anyone who feels differently to me, we may be able to enlighten each other.

Until next time, take care of yourselves.

CJ x