So, the reason I started this blog is because my partner said to me on the day I started my period that I looked like had I gained weight. And that I have a mustache. He said this to me less that a week since I started anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds. My first impulse was to shoot him, but I couldn't find the ammo. So he lucked out there. My second impulse was to scream at him until he cowered in a corner and begged for his very life. But we live in a apartment with thin walls, so that would just land me in jail without the satisfaction of at least causing some bloodshed.
So that brings me here. I figure I am dealing with so many things in my life I should keep a chronicle. If someone else reads it and takes away something from it, either good or bad, then great. If I am the only person to ever lay eyes on it then so be it. At least I know I'm doing something.
A week ago last Tuesday I went to a pain specialist to see if I could finally get some help. After five minutes he told me to go to OHSU hospital, get gastric bypass surgery, and then come back and see him. He meant every word.
I ended up in the hospital lobby crying and crying and a somehow made my wobbly way to the emergency room. I ended up seeing a doctor who gave me some happy pills, i.e: Xanix, and said to show up the next day for therapy. Turns out, it was one of the best things to ever happen to me.
Cut to today, I have seen a psychiatrist and a therapist, been put on a nice cocktail of meds, and am attending groups part time. I went into them thinking they would be a waste of time, but they are helpful, for the most part.
So marks the beginning of my journey of accepting that I am fat, I will always like cake, and I need to remember to buy depilatory cream so I don't look like an 80- something year old Italian grandmother. Join me if you dare.
