My life is a continual roller coaster. I have days, weeks, months where I feel hopeful that things are going to get better. Then something happens that totally shatters that hope – at least for a little while.
The past 2 months of my life have been pretty stressful. I thought I was handling things pretty well. I had my ups and downs, but for the most part, I was a trooper. I kept my sense of humor – about most things, anyway. I kept all of my appointments, except for only one, which I missed because of my only migraine in over a month. I was struggling through the pre-surgery anxiety, the post-surgery blues and everything in between. But over the past week or so, things keep happening that are throwing me for an emotional loop.
The first was when we ordered a bath seat, so I could take a shower in a somewhat normal way. I’d been using 2 milk crates, stacked, with a towel on top to keep from getting “butt-grid”. Because I’m so short, the crates ended up being an inch or so too tall for me … but I managed. When the bath seat came (Walmart site-to-store, because they don’t carry them in-store) I was elated! Bill assembled it, and I eagerly tested it out. It was perfect! For about 5 minutes, that is. Then all of the sudden, the legs of the seat started to spread out, similar to Bambi’s leg on the ice. At first, I didn’t realize what was going on, just that I was leaning awkwardly to one side. Bill popped his head in to take a look, and told me to stand up immediately. The seat was completely unusable. I thought maybe the weight limit was too low, but some research on the manufacturer’s website proved that theory wrong. The weight limit is 300lbs, and I’m WAY under that limit! The manufacturer, after I called them to complain about the shoddy craftsmanship, sent us a new one, but I’m too scared to try to use it again. Back to the milk crates.
Then, as if that weren’t bad enough, my Dad decides to make me feel like shit (a normal occurrence for him). On the day my doc told me I could start putting weight on my foot, and try walking, I excitedly called my Dad to tell him the good news. His comment to me was, “they’re gonna let you put 300 pounds on it already?”. Thud! There went my good mood. Gee, thanks Dad, for the warm and fuzzies. I know I’ve gained alot of weight lately, but I’m not THAT fat! Needless to say, my Husband was sorely pissed off at my Dad for such an insensitive “joke”.
And the final straw happened today. We’ve been so busy lately, that we haven’t had a chance to get to the laundromat. We both have a ton of shirts and underwear to last us weeks without laundry … but not enough pants/shorts. I hadn’t realized that I was wearing my last clean pair of shorts. I got a quick shower before my doctor’s appointment today, and when I went to get clean clothes, I had no shorts. Well, actually, I had about 5 pairs of shorts in the drawer, most of which were starting to get tight on me last summer. I pulled out every pair, and started trying them on. Not one pair came even close to fitting me now. I was reduced to wearing a pair of shorts that hadn’t been laundered yet. I felt disgusting, like everyone would know I was wearing “dirty” shorts.
That’s when the breakdown happened. I sat on my bed for at least 15 minutes having a full-blown meltdown. When my Husband discovered me like that, he just quietly sat next to me, with his arm around my shoulders, and let me sob and blubber until it was out of my system. He knows how disgusted I am with myself about my weight gain, even if he doesn’t share my feelings. He thinks I’m beautiful just the way I am, and tells me so all the time. He understands that sometimes, shit just happens … things that are out of my control, and that once I’m healthy enough to start focusing on my weight, he’ll do whatever is needed to help me become the person I want to be, physically. But he’s made it clear to me that he doesn’t see what’s on the outside; that he loves me for who I am on the inside. And he proves that to me with his actions, in addition to his words. I just can’t help being disappointed and disgusted with myself. And worse yet, I feel like I’ll never be able to lose the weight, and that I’ll always be the fat, ugly person I see in the mirror (which, by the way, I avoid like the plague).