A-MAY-zing- get it??

I still haven’t settled into ‘diet mode‘.

My job is stressing me so much, migraines are making an appearance again… I need afternoon naps just to cope with life right now. I’ve started job hunting again and actually found a role that looks really interesting, but I also want to get back to uni in September and the time is a tick-a-tocking.

My dog is doing well post-surgery, he went to visit the surgeon today for an 8 week followup and the dude stamped on his tail, I’ve never heard him cry out like it before! He then peed everywhere and hid under a chair, my poor boy. The vet proclaimed “His tail wasn’t there a second ago, he moved it under my foot!”… A veterinary surgeon who doesn’t realise that a dog can move his tail independently? Just mildly concerning! Haha. This vet is also THE ONLY that he doesn’t seem to like, even BEFORE the tail stepping incident. Weird guy, but he fixed my furbaby, so I’m ok with it.

Here’s my fitbit report –

IMG_0355

 

Quitting your job after a week.

Yes, that’s what I did.

I HATED every minute of it. I need to be challenged, stimulated, motivated… I can’t just stand around all day doing NOTHING. I learnt this when I started the job, of course.

I mean, in my interview, I said in basic English “I like being busy, I like projects, I like targets, I like curveballs.” I was met with nods and enthusiasm… That’s what we like, that’s what this job is like, this job is suited to you! Those nods were just lies. Ok, maybe not lies… But it’s all relative, isn’t it. People said to me on the job “Oh god, it’s so busy today!” flustered and flapping, and I just looked at them with bemusement “Ok…”

I spoke to my supervisor, after she penalised me for being late (because she wrote the time in the wrong format on our rota), maybe I insulted her with “I’m used working in an environment with a much faster pace and a lot of responsibility”, but she dismissed my attempt at enquiring on how I should go about resigning, ensuring me that we would be so unbearably busy I’d be eating my words in just a few hours time…

I was left with the shoes. Shoes, glorious shoes! “I hate being on shoes” – Everybody. I suppose walking back and forth between the shoe display and the stockroom is a bit too much like hard work, when you’re used to doing nothing? Anyway, I actually found it quite enjoyable… I could get used to this! I mused.

Then my supervisor intercepted me,

“Walk and talk with me, walk and talk.” I walked “Do you mind talking to me, about your epilepsy… I didn’t know you were epileptic, did you tell them in your interview?”

“Yes.” Ok, what has this got to do with anything.

“I wasn’t told about this, what did she say to you?”

“Nothing, I just told her when she asked me about medical conditions in relation to manual handling and ladders, to be on the safe side.” I laughed, let’s make light of this, it’s not a big deal.

“Well, we’ll need to risk assess you. You know, we won’t be able to send you back of house, in case you have a fit, so… You won’t be able to go to the stockroom, and do you mind telling your colleagues? So they know you can’t go to the stockroom? It’s nothing to worry about, we wouldn’t exclude you for your disability, but you will need to be risk assessed by a manager when you’re in next, we have to do everything by the book.”

I’m not going to lie, I’m not a violent person, but I felt like knocking the bitch out. How dare she make assumptions about my ‘disability’, how dare she speak to me about personal matters on the shop floor, in earshot of other staff members and customers, how dare she take away my beloved shoes?!!?! I got a little bit tearful in that moment, the frustration, the overwhelming emotions related to this stupid diagnosis… She looked me dead in the eye, she saw I was upset, she turned and walked away.

I spent the next hour of my shift manning the fitting room, gritting my teeth and processing the conversation… 3pm, time to go home, but no one came to ‘take me off’, so I waited, getting more and more angry and upset and hating myself just as much as the stupid vacuous woman who put me in this mood. Twenty five minutes felt like a lifetime, and when the sweet girl came to relieve me and apologised, as she’d been sent on her break late, I snapped at her and stormed off to the till point. FIVE staff members patrolled the area, you know, in wait of the horde of customers who would soon be arriving! The supervisor was blocking my path, I needed to sign out and quickly, before I combusted.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m going home (30 minutes late, you vile wench).”

“Ok, do you know when you’re in next? Monday”

I called out a goodbye, no one responded. This really is an unfriendly environment, I thought, as I left the job for good.

I went straight to my friends’ house and ranted, then burst into tears. “Leave” they proclaimed, “Fuck them!” they assured. I went home to my Mum “Leave” she said, angered. I emailed my resignation with immediate effect to HR. Goodbye.

Anyway, on Wednesday, I went and got a new job. It’s not the end of the world.

Updates

Hello out there!

I got the job! I mean, if you can call it good news. It’s not as many hours as I would like and following the company induction I was only more convinced of my misanthropy and need to be self-employed (in future). I haven’t been given a start date and without overtime, I won’t be able to save anywhere near the amount I need to complete my degree, but at least I should be able to get a loan with full-time employment. I’m trying not to think ahead too much, I’m still panicking that I haven’t got a start date.. Hopefully I’ll hear something tomorrow.

In other news, I got myself a Fitbit Charge 2. I like it so far, I don’t 100% trust the accuracy of the calorie burn and step count, but I’m not dependant on these numbers, they are merely helpful motivation. Of all the features, I’m most excited about the heart rate tracker; though my immediate desire is to lose weight, I believe fitness is the tool to reach my goals.

I haven’t weighed myself again, yet. I’m going to leave it until Friday morning, a week of Fitbit use. I plan to update the blog with my stats each Friday thereafter. I will also be taking pictures and measurements to track. I’m finally feeling some motivation and I can only hope it’s lasting. The more comprehensive the records of my improvement, the less likely I will be to reverse my progress (like last time).

This is such a boring post, but until I start seeing results, I’m not sure how enthusiastic I can be (about anything)… Life is weird at the moment, but I’m working on it.

CJ x

 

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.”

images

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.