People (Sometimes) Suck

You don’t see me.
You never call.
You say you love me,
But you let me fall.

We’re friends, “You’re the best!”
Kisses. Hug!
But you trash and slash me
Like a common thug.

When my back is turned?
You’re no friend.
You tear me down
To absolutely no end.

I built you up.
And you stole from me.
Just a hanger-on.
That’s all. YOU’LL. EVER. BE!

This is my show.
Get your own.
Hard to be a star
When you’re all alone?

One day, you’ll wake up
And know you’re wrong.
But it’ll be too late,
I’m already gone!

 

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Prayer-Practice-Patience-Painting-PTL!

I went with my friend and our two daughters to a suburban wine-and-paint night at Pinot’s Palette. I was a nervous wreck. Why? Because I skipped the wine part! That’s why. Bad idea. LOL

I am a former art student who failed at getting her graphic design degree from a two-year college. I am one credit away from completing my degree and I could never find a job in my field. I didn’t have time to go to a four-year university and continue my back-to-school-in-my-thirties-midlife-crisis. So, as with many other things, I gave up.

Health issues became a concern four years ago and pursuing very challenging coursework with no actual high-paying job at the end seemed less important than just getting healthy. I tried to find work on my own for freelance, but that was super difficult and competitive. I did a few things for friends, but the work dried up quickly. You have to do a lot of free stuff to get jobs. I volunteered for one year at a local magazine to try and gain experience. I got a few perks with my gig, but ultimately, it didn’t help land anything real.

Thank God for my husband. He’s supported me through this whole mess. Failed schooling, no job, no insurance, bankruptcy from medical and credit card debt, health trouble. He’s my hero. (BTW, we are working on our marriage and have made significant progress. Woot! Thanks for prayers and support.)

To my credit, I’ve had odd jobs here and there. I was even an acting coach at one point. A job that I absolutely loved. But I was not asked back in the fall. Too many teachers: not enough students, most likely. But who knows? Maybe I was a radical failure and they were too shy to tell me? Maybe parents complained. I have no idea. I just know, I wasn’t on the schedule last fall. Wish I would have known that before I made class plans. Thank you, Administration!

Anyway. My whole point is this. I love art. I have been involved in some art form from a very young age. Illustration was my first love. How did I learn? From tracing my brother’s sketches that he doodled and discarded. You can call it cheating. I call it, learning. What better way to promote muscle memory than to trace a drawing over and over and over until you learn the way the lines should go? I don’t call it cheating. Drawing’s hard!

Also, I started acting when I was 17. LOVED IT! Still doing it when I can. And you know what, I’m pretty darn good at it. Just ask me. But because I was overweight, I started writing for myself. No parts for fat ladies. Well, not enough parts to go around.

Through acting, I started writing. And through writing, I started blogging. Cool. I’m very artistic, crafty, love to create. So when I’m challenged with a painting class in Suburbia I freak out. Naturally.

No, not naturally. Because, I have never taken a painting class other than the class I took to learn color theory. My professor required acrylics and painting on some projects and I sucked at it. Like hard-core sucked wind on painting. But to be fair, painting with acrylics is like trying to forge a Picasso with crayons. To me, anyway. So, why would painting come naturally to me and why would I freak out over it?

I guess with nearly an art degree and stamping my foot about being an artist, I kinda think…that other people think–I should be automatically good at any art project. But I’m not. So, hence the freaking.

My daughter is the same way. She has a genius IQ and everything comes naturally to her. Most things. And when they don’t? She freaks out. Totally normal for a genius, BTW. Even if she’s never done it before, learned it before or even seen it before, she has anxiety about failing. Something I unintentionally birthed to her. BTW, I’m NOT a genius. 😉 Anxiety is the one thing I regret having given her. I did it subconsciously, over years. And I hate myself some days for having willed her my neurosis. Monkey see, monkey do.

But. We’re here. The best I can do is help her, and myself, through this hairy forest of feels. Here’s a great online resource we found to help us. PTSD and anxiety tools! Try it!!!  Better than anything I’ve ever heard about, read about or paid $70 an hour for a therapist to recommend. (We’ve both been to a therapist and they verified that I have PTSD and she has anxiety. Duh.)

But last night, we were both feeling anxious. We wanted so much to go, enjoy, relax, have fun, create and totally CRUSH our paintings. We’re super competitive. Not with each other, but with other people. We want to be the best at what we think we’re the best at. And things started out rough.

Lilli is only 13 and is still developing skills in everything. Hand-eye coordination. Thinking. Feeling. Talking. LOL Her frontal lobe is not done growing and neither is her body. She’s advanced, but not done. Obvs! So when her body or hand can’t catch up to her imagination, she gets frustrated. Although, she’s never lived inside a box. She’s always made her own way and blazed trails. That’s her genius showing. So, last night, she felt hemmed in by trying to imitate another’s painting. It wasn’t going like she wanted it to.

Thank God, it was break time. We all had to let our backgrounds dry. She was upset with her moon and how it turned out. Remember, trying to blend acrylics is HARD! This is not oil or watercolor. Dries super fast. She kept wanting to mess with it and I recommended letting it dry, so she could fix it. She got frustrated. Mucho. She was quiet for a moment and then I noticed.

She was slumped. Tired and defeated. On the verge of tears. The opposite of the intention for our gals night. I asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

Through soft, pale lips and big, watery eyes. “No. I’m praying. For patience.”

Oh! My heart jumped! My oh-so nervous heart jumped in a swell of pride and thankfulness. A heart-shaped fist pump of delight it was!

She’s praying! Thank God!

We’ve been trying to practice anxiety-reduction techniques and this was the most awesomest thing she could have done! And I should have been reminding her, but she remembered on her own! I forgot and she remembered! YAY, friggin’ YAY! I failed, but she figured it out!

And just minutes after our break, Lilli started dancing in her seat to the overhead music. Swiping heavy paint across the canvas and painting to the beat of her own drum. She didn’t follow the directions and she enjoyed every minute. (They said at the beginning, “Don’t have to follow. Do whatever you want! Make whatever you like.” And she did!)

Way to go, Lil! What an awesome demonstration of God’s power and glory. Answered prayer and rejoicing! Recovery and relaxation. Thank you, God! For my amazing child, all the things she teaches me and the bountiful gifts of your Holy Spirit! Thank you for moving last night in our tense, tiny tangle.

The picture looks like a stormy sea of feelings and expression, but God was on top of those waves and in our boat!

Veggie Pizzagna

Since I went through weight loss surgery, I developed this recipe from some I’ve seen online. It was important to up my protein intake and still have soft foods. I wanted to eliminate the pasta and this is what I came up with. It’s a cross between pizza and lasagna. It’s not too hard to put together and my family seems to love it! It’s pretty yummy.

4 bags of frozen broccoli and cauliflower
1 jar of pizza or alfredo sauce
1 bag of Italian cheese blend
Parmesan cheese
1 tub of low-fat ricotta
1 package of diced or sliced pepperoni

Basically, you boil or steam the veggies. Make sure they are thoroughly cooked, if you need the softness. If you like your veggies a bit firmer, that’s fine. But remember, you’re going to mash these up like potatoes, so don’t leave them too firm for that.

Next, drain the veggies if you boiled them. Now mash! I use my potato masher to smash the veggies to a very soft consistency. Then drain using cheese cloth or clean, dry cloth towel. Either will work. I tried cheese cloth and a towel works just the same. Make sure the towel is lint-free! The veggies are enough fiber for anyone. 🙂 You should squeeze almost a cup of liquid off the cooked veggies. Gather up your veggies in your towel or cheese cloth and wring them out. Just twist. You might have to wait until they are cooler if they’re steaming hot.

Drop your veggies into a bowl or back in the pan you just boiled or steamed them in (make sure the container is dry). Mix the veggies with your sauce. Make sure you don’t over-sauce the veggies, they should be flavored, not drowning in sauce. Unless you like that. 😉 Scoop half of the mixture into your baking dish. I used my two-handled skillet to bake in. Whatever works! Spread half of the mixture in your dish to cover the entire bottom surface. Make sure the dish isn’t too big, the layer should be at least 1/2 inch. You shouldn’t see any part of the dish.

Then, spread 1/2 of the ricotta on top of your veggie layer. Sprinkle with 1/2 of the Italian cheese. Repeat the layer! But this time, before you add the last of the shredded cheese, add a good sprinkling of parmesan. Don’t have to, but I like it.

The top should be covered with the other 1/2 of the Italian cheese and peppered with the pepperoni! Bake at 400° for about 30 minutes. Then broil for 5-10 minutes at 400° to really brown the top and crisp up those pepperoni. Looks like a deep dish pizza when you take it out.

So good!

Look, it’s not lasagna. It’s not pizza. But it is a lot healthier without the noodles. Bread is the devil. Lots of protein and veg. It does have sodium, but portion-control is key. Cut into 6 equal portions. I cut mine like a dessert pie. My husband eats probably two portions (1 portion and whatever we can’t finish), but my daughter and I can only eat about 1/2 of 1 serving. So cut it up however you like or just plain scoop it out with a spoon. It’s all ending up in the same place. LOL

Hope you like it. Let me know if you make it and what you think.

We love it! Mangia!

Enough for leftovers. Two nights of Veggie Pizzagna. MMMM!

Can you believe we might get divorced?

I’m about to reveal the most personal aspect of my life. Something I have never really written about in full detail before. This could end my marriage. But I’m hoping to save it. I’m risking everything by even publishing this. I’m writing this for other people who might be struggling in the same situation and feeling hopeless. And to end my own secrets. At least I’ll be accountable to someone. Secrets make you sick.

NOTE: I have written this with the full permission of my husband and he has read this post before publishing. Except I just added this bit, so Dear, can you approve this small note. Everything in red. Thanks. Let me know! 😉

My marriage is in trouble. It has been for some time. I have fought every month, or nearly every month with my spouse for over 18 years. That would be approximately 216 fights. But I know it’s more than that. I know it’s more because sometimes those fights can be every night for 3 or 4 days. So let’s agree, it’s over 200. Fair?

Boy, we are good at fighting. We’ve had a lot of practice. We say all the hurtful things, we push all the right buttons and we bring all the dirty laundry to the table. No stone unturned. Fighting is not something to take pride in or be good at, but if there was an Olympic sport of adult pair arguments, we would take the gold every time. No contest. And I wish I could say that my daughter, Lilli, never has to witness our Olympic-sized battle of the cray. I wish I could say that.

Also, I should add that at the last church we attended, the couples counseling life group that we were involved with, the leader told us this after the course ended. “Boy, I thought for sure you all were getting divorced! I didn’t think you’d make it!” Uh…WTF???! Thanks? And peace be with you also??

Most of the time the fights are about the least significant things in the world! We rarely fight about politics or religion. We mostly argue about who left the toothpaste in the wrong spot or who failed to take out the trash or who said the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person. Most of the time, it’s me criticizing my husband about some failure on his part. But lately, my husband has grown belligerent. He has threatened divorce more than 3 times in the last year. He says hurtful things that are extreme and unbelievable. He has become extraordinarily intolerant. He has exited a moving car to get away from me and almost hurt himself. Our relationship has grown toxic.

Also, he has recently been diagnosed with adult onset ADHD and most likely has issues stemming from past abuse. He is easily triggered and quick to anger. But, so am I. He has impulse control problems and we are both very unhealthy. We are both obese and in poor health.

I don’t say these things to embarrass him or impugn his good standing with anyone. He doesn’t really have any friends to reveal this to. He can be very reclusive. I don’t even say these things to hurt him. I say these things because they are true and necessary to understand the extent of how desperate our marriage is.

I should say now how important my marriage is to me. My husband is more important to me than my own life. I would do anything for this man. This man is more important to me than my own safety, sanity or sanctity of self. I’ve come to realize that. I am willing to humiliate myself and beg for him to stay, even in the shadow of this threat to divorce.

I should also say that I believe divorce is wrong, but I know about half of people do it. Sometimes it’s necessary. Some people are physically abused or find their spouse has betrayed them with another person. But neither of these things are true of our marriage currently. My husband has pushed me before and injured me. In the past. To be fair, I have physically blocked him from leaving our home. In the past. My husband has downloaded a photo before of another woman and saved that picture to our shared computer for whatever purpose. You tell me why a guy does that? It was an ex-girlfriend. I felt betrayed because I would never do that to him. He also used to, like many men, have an addiction to porn. He still may, you’d have to ask him. I don’t think so. But I don’t believe my husband has ever, ever been with someone else or even tried. Not to hurt his feelings, but I think he would freely admit that neither one of us is in danger of being tempted by others or lured away. We’re not exactly Brad and Angelina. Oh, they’re getting divorced, too. Oh. Further proof, nobody’s perfect.

Anyway, the whole point is this, my husband still wants a divorce. Because we fight too much. He said, yesterday, “I don’t love you any more.”

Deep breath. That hurts.

Yesterday, we had a HUGE fight! I should say before I say anything else: I have had 2 major surgeries in the last month, I am just now recovering from gallbladder surgery from 1 week ago, I am currently detoxing from oxycodone, I am PMS-ing, I can only have Tylenol and I was just diagnosed 2 weeks ago with complex PTSD (which I have received no treatment for, as of yet). That said, we had a ginormous fight mostly because I was triggered by something he said.

Some background. The last month has been a living hell. I had to argue with surgeons and doctors and ER techs about whether or not my gallbladder was failing and whether or not to take it out, IF they would perform the surgery, who would perform the surgery and how to treat my pain in the meantime. BTW, my gallbladder was failing and did need to come out. It was full of stones and I found out yesterday that the pathology did confirm that it needed to be removed! This has simply been the WORST pain I’ve ever had and I’ve been unable to eat for weeks with horrible nausea. I’m better now, but it’s been bad.

I have a problem with oxy and pills and one of the doctors actually prescribed more oxy and on top of that, an anxiety med because I guess I seemed hysterical that they wouldn’t take out my GB. Not actually treat my condition, but give me more pills. That made me angry and I felt completely powerless. Let me just add also, the anxiety med did nothing but put me to sleep.

So, the fight. This morning I was still detoxing from my oxy addiction, takes about a week (anyone can become addicted to oxy within a few weeks, I was on it for almost a month). AND, I was feeling anxious (symptom), tired (symptom), emotional (symptom), achy (symptom) and all-around rotten (may be a symptom). Plus, as I said, I am still recovering from surgery. Hadn’t even had my staples out. AND all of the other things I mentioned above. So. My daughter gets out of the car to board the bus and my husband asks me as we’re waiting for her bus to arrive, “How are you feeling this morning?” Or something like that.

So I begin to answer. “Well, I feel anxious…” He cuts me off. “Oh, don’t you still have those anxiety meds?”

Wow. I just lost it. I was totally wrong to lose it, BTW! But I just lost it. I felt betrayed, triggered, powerless and confused. Every doctor that I’ve encountered in every ER, hospital and clinic that I’ve seen for the last month has told me, “Ignore the pain, take a pain med!” And another doctor added anxiety meds to the list. “Take! A! Pill!” is all I’ve been hearing when I was in severe pain and needed immediate medical attention. Not to be melodramatic, but–I could have died. So, to hear my husband recommending another pill for my detox from a pill was just more than I could bear (you were right, Dear, b-e-a-r, that website must have been thru these oxy-detoxy eyes).

I started talking about my feelings and how hurt I felt and he cut me off. I tried again. He cut me off. I tried and tried and tried to express myself, granted, I was very upset and unable to control the volume of my voice, but every time I tried to talk he ignored me and wouldn’t communicate. It was so frustrating! Which definitely worsened my mood.

I am taking my husband to work because I have a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon and we are fighting the whole way. It was awful. He made excuses for his behavior. Even blamed me for the conversation. He said, “I asked you how you were because you want me to talk to you.”

Me: But I never asked for your advice! You didn’t even listen to me!

He said very hurtful things to me. Such as, “Go talk to your girlfriends and blog about it.” Super hurtful because my blog is my lifeline right now and that was an attempt to shame and hurt me so that he no longer had to deal with my anger. I was in tears. I apologized for my behavior, but he resolved to leave the car in anger and silence. No apology. No resolution. No reconciling. And he did not contact me for the rest of the day.

When I got home after the doctor. Still no apology. He told me later that at 11:30 am, while at work, he decided that he wanted a divorce based on a Facebook status I had posted. Here is the post.

“Maybe I don’t need a pill. Maybe I need grace, compassion, wisdom and love.”

He started looking for apartments. He found one near his work at a price that he can afford. He also wants a separate checking account. And, for sure, to leave for good.

I was stunned. Hurt. Flabbergasted. Anguished. Desperate.

He said that our marriage was a mistake. That for 18 years he’s wanted to leave and hasn’t because I’ve begged him to stay. That isn’t totally accurate because I wanted to leave in the past and he begged me to stay.

The man who was so angry last night is not someone I like. But he’s still someone I love. He acted irrationally. Selfishly. Arrogantly. Impulsively! But I still love him. But I’m wondering today…why? Why am I trying desperately to hold onto someone who doesn’t love me any more? It’s kind of pathetic. But, I’m terrified to lose him. I love him. And I know it isn’t right to give up. God doesn’t want this for our family. Satan does. That makes me mad.

I was wrong to badger my husband in the car. I was. I admit that. But everything was at stake. My pride, my ego, my integrity, my definition as a human being, MY HEALTH! was all wrapped in this decision to stop taking more pills. And I had told him everything that I was feeling about the pills before this moment, my decision, my resolution, my hatred of pill-popping. Or I tried to.

My husband thinks I should take my pills? So I can just be “normal”? So I will just shut the hell up? So he doesn’t have to listen? The oxy was killing me. But I’m supposed to take more pills?

I was opposed to taking any more unnecessary pills, so much so, that I freaked out. I totally did. I admit that, but what he said and did was hurtful. Everything he said and did after the initial encounter was horrible and hurtful. Downright nasty.

What’s a person with severe PTSD supposed to do with no treatment when the person they most trust tells them to just pop a pill when they are trying to detox from other pills? Lord, have mercy. But I was still wrong to raise my voice. But where’s the grace? He certainly raised his voice too. Where’s the grace for addiction, recovery and trauma? Is this man caring for ME? I have to say no. He was balls-to-the-wall out for himself. “Get out at any cost!”

I feel like the worst version of myself right now. I have nothing. I have no job, no marriage, no extended family, no health. I have nothing. My little family, my immediate family of 3, means everything to me. Me, my daughter, my love. It’s all I have. I’m desperate to keep it. But I fear it’s slipping away and I can’t stop it.

I promised last night to never lose my temper again. Never. You may not know me well, but I can just say this. If I say it out loud and it’s within my control, I WILL do it. I’ve NEVER broken a promise to my husband. EVER. I vowed to get mental help. I did. I made many a vow to him over the years and I’ve kept every one. I’ve played by his rules and it doesn’t always work. The rules change. If he was inclined, he would say that I’ve been true to my word. Every time. And I honestly didn’t know that my marriage was at stake over my temper. That’s very different. And, I also asked my husband to stay. Promise to stay. I’m not sure that he will.

I hate saying these things. These things are so private, embarrassing and insane. But I also know, for certain, that someone else is going through the exact same thing right now. Someone might read this and just know for one minute, or several minutes, someone else is hurting exactly like me right now (or worse) and I can bare another minute on this planet because I know that ONE thing. So I’m sharing.

I shouldn’t love my husband, but I do. We are bad for each other. We do not get along. We are broken, extremely damaged people who don’t know the true meaning of love. (Hang on. Maybe we’re perfect for each other?) But, we’ve got a child. A beautiful, brilliant child who deserves better parents.

And. I’m nothing without my husband. He’s flawed, but he’s also better than most. He can be mean. Cruel. Obstinate. Ridiculous! But he’s also funny, kind (sometimes), loyal and handsome (in my eyes). He doesn’t usually lie. And he’s the best, most generous lover I’ve ever had.

After 18 years, there’s not many butterflies when we kiss. Can anyone say they get butterflies any more? But butterflies were replaced long ago by deep, joyful, passionate longing for my one and only sweetheart. There’s no other for me. And I don’t want to lose the best thing I’ve got. I also don’t want to drive the father of my child away because I’m too broken to love.

I can control my voice. I can’t control whether my husband stays or goes. Pray for us. We need it. We so very desperately need it.

If you’re my friend and this is all strange and unbelievable. Guy can vouch for every word. Everyone thinks that Guy is swell, friendly and without flaw, but you haven’t met the real Guy. The Guy that I can provoke with a look or word. The Guy who can explode into anger at the drop of a slight.

And I’ve just never said. I’ve only told a few. It’s hard to say, “My marriage is bad.” But, it is. It’s not all bad. But things are pretty tough right now. We need a miracle. I trust that God will show up. I just don’t know if Guy will still be here when He does.

I am writing to expose all our sickness and strife because I know from years of writing, it’s the only thing that’s helped my PTSD and weight loss. Maybe this will help. We have agreed to counseling. Again. I don’t know if that will fix anything. And I’m also writing because I see happy couples on Facebook every day and I wonder, is that real? Because I know my own marriage seems happy from the outside, but it’s anything but sometimes. I am writing out of strict authenticity because that is important to us. At least, I think it is.

My God, help us. I truly want my husband back. I want to stop pushing him away. I want to embrace this damaged person and heal him. Not keep hurting him. Help me, God, to figure this out. I’d give my life to help this man.

 

Why’s it so hard to be nice to ourselves?

I’m pretty hard on myself.

I just had a major surgery (last Thursday) and I’m expecting miracles. I expect that I should be out of pain, off oxycodone, totally withdrawn from all pain meds and on my feet doing laundry and keeping house. In my wildest post-op fantasy, I should be holding down a job, fixing dinner every night and dressing for success all damn day. Also, adopting orphans and feeding the homeless.

When I write it down, it sounds ridiculous.

I haven’t had a job in 6 months. I’ve been sick for over 4 years. I’ve been recovering from weight loss surgery for just over a month and gallbladder removal for just under a week. I can barely hold down food at this point, let alone a job. Calm down, Mother Teresa!

I guess I’m impatient because I know how long I’ve been sick and how much I want to be better. My goal is be a productive human being again. Stop wasting time on being sick. Be a better wife, mother and human. To serve others and have purpose. To lose weight overnight and be a rockstar tomorrow. I’m ready for all the glory without any of the work, pain, time. Honestly, I want to take away the burden of a sick home from my husband and daughter. Bottom line. I feel so selfish.

Today was a success because I am almost 48 hours out from my last oxycodone pill after having taken them every day for over a month. My nausea is subsiding and I’m able to stand up straight without pain. My weight has gone back down to 399.8 and I’m doing laundry by myself. I am not exactly following my post-op diet but I am eating food that I can stomach.

I can only have a few bites at a time. I’m supposed to have nothing but protein, but when ur sick? Protein sounds awful! Chicken soup/veggie soup/broth is about the only protein I can stomach and even so, how much soup can a person handle? When you’re nauseous, ever heard of BRAT? Bananas, rice, applesauce and toast. I’ve been having a small piece of toast throughout the day for a coupla days because it’s all I can keep down. I can only eat a few bites, I over-chew and it stays down. Breaking the rules, but being nice to myself. Still losing weight, of course, because I’m barely eating anything.

Important not to make a habit out of bread. Also, trying to keep liquids down. That’s the most important thing I can do right now. Stay hydrated.

Goals for today:
Drink liquids.
Eat a little.
Stay off oxy!
Do a tiny bit of laundry.

Check!

OH! And be nice to myself. Check.

As a sidenote: I wish the nurses and doctors during my recovery had mentioned the oxy-nausea thing. Instead they told me to return to a soft food diet, not “get off oxy asap!” It’s not food, it’s the drug. Pretty sure. Because what they thought was an ulcer is now almost assuredly a side effect of the oxy. Glad they listened to me finally, took out my gallbladder and saw through the EGD that I did not have an ulcer. They prescribed carafate for my “ulcer” that they thought I had (before they saw the EGD results) and I nearly puked on that med. Stopped taking it immediately. But now I have a very expensive script that I only used once. I have resolved to care for myself the best way I know how…listen to my body! And fight for myself.

Hammered Dog Doo

I went in for gallbladder removal and EGD on Thursday of last week. I just have to say that gallbladder pain is the worst pain I’ve ever had. And I gave birth the old-fashioned way.

The thing about natural childbirth (or any birthing event, C-section) though is this. Even though your ripped and torn, bleeding and bruised, banged up, sore and hamburglarized–some sort of magic manic-euphoria sets in and you don’t feel pain like a normal person. It’s as if the pain gets blurred. Dulled by the giddy feelings of falling in love with your baby. You can just basically forget you have legs or a babymaker for hours at a time.

So, if they would have swaddled my little gallbladder sac like a precious newborn, I might have made it through okay. But that didn’t happen. That sack of marbles got tossed on the bio-waste heap with all the other dysfunctional organs time and junk food has stolen from my body.

But I did figure out the source of my nausea. I’ve been oh-so nauseous for days! Before GB removal and after. Just before the new year, I went into the ER for stomach pain. They pumped me full of dilaudid. The nurse said, “They typically give that to trauma patients, so you’re lucky!” After 24 hours of pain meds though, I didn’t feel lucky. I just felt sick as a dog. That stuff made me so nauseated! Never again. They had to administer the pain med with anti-naus meds to not make me more sick??! No!

You should also know, I hate taking pills. I hate it. I hate taking heart meds, pain meds, weight loss meds, any meds. I grew up in a household where you suffered through your pain. And that made me tough. Occasionally, I would get some aspirin or cold medicine, but for the most part, I was allowed to just sleep it off. Let my nose run. Hack up a lung. Let the fever break. Let the earache ooze. Let the scrape breathe! And, for the most part, I did okay. Never really needed more than that. I would’ve liked more than that sometimes I guess, but I didn’t need it.

I had measles, chickenpox, mumps, whatever. I only had shots once. I have had shingles. Twice! And I just rode it out. This is a way of life. This is a philosophy. Let your body do what it needs to do. I’ve always been interested in alternative medicine. I don’t smoke pot, but I’m sure pot is better at pain management than oxy. Why don’t we have something natural instead of synthetic? And I know pot doesn’t make you nauseous. Quite the opposite.

Only until I entered the modern healthcare system at 39 with heart failure, did I need meds. I needed meds before that for my heart, but I ignored it. So this modern approach to pain management is new to me. I think I’m addicted to oxycodone. I am not taking any more as of this morning. I think it’s partly causing my nausea and even though I’m still in pain, I’m done! I’d rather be sore than sick to my stomach. I can handle anything except nausea.

Oxy can cause nausea. Itching. Stomach irritation. Vomiting. Ulcers! Great med to give someone who just had their stomach diced up like a tomato. But I don’t think anyone expected me to still be on oxy. But they’ve been doling it out like M&Ms. The gallbladder complication really threw a wrench into my recovery. So. Cold turkey. I’m basically giving up heroin lite. Oxy is an opiate. Same class as heroin. AND I’m so done.

This morning I feel clear. Sore, but on the mend. I don’t need pain meds, I can muddle through without. Our bodies send us messages all the time and we should listen, not mute. I shouldn’t just take oxy because it’s sitting there in the cabinet. I shouldn’t just take it until they run out. I’m in charge. I should go easy until I heal and be a little sore. Or alot sore.

I’m adding back my meds that I know were safe before weight loss surgery, then I’m adding the new ones one at a time. I gotta get straight. I was taking stomach ulcer meds to try and keep up with what the oxy was doing to my gut. No thanks. But you don’t always realize what’s happening with taking so many meds. How they interact and what they’re even made of. Oxy is an acid. Not good for sensitive new tummies. You simply take what the doctor hands you. When you’re sick, you can’t do the research of a pharmacist from your recovery bed.

At some point I didn’t realize that my post-op weight loss surgery pain had migrated to opiate addiction. I was muting my messages. Plus, to suffer gallbladder stones on top of it, that was sending mixed signals for sure. I’m glad to be on the other side of it. I’m glad to take control right now. I still hurt, but nothing I can’t handle. Time to be tough.

I was praying so much this past weekend. Praying to make it through. Praying for the nausea to leave. Praying for healing. Praying for an ulcer-free stomach. Praying for the back pain from yanking out my GB to go. And I think I just got my answer. Thank you, Lord.

Current weight=402.2

I went up with surgery which is expected. I was up to 409 when I came home after being down to 397.8 before surgery. So I get to break 400 twice I guess? 🙂 They pumped me full of IV juices, so that’s one of the reasons I went up. Oh well. 402 is not bad! Onward and downward!

The Buzz!

What’s the buzz? It’s not a new radio station in town. It’s not a hot wings restaurant down on the corner where the servers wear footballs over their tatas! It’s me, my weight!

I just broke 400!!!

I weigh 399.8 today. 😀 Starting at 513 lbs. in August of 2012, to finally be down past 400 is huge! 113.2 lbs. lost! I am so happy. I am so thankful. I am so very excited! I am so excited to be at this weight-busting moment!

I had wanted to meet this goal before the end of 2016, but I’m only 9 days late. 😀 Better late than never.

Thank you for just cheering me on. It helps. Woot!!! I’m losing! I really am.

And if you’re having trouble starting your NYE diet resolution, be afraid, because I’m on your a$$ and I’m coming for you! What better motivation to start! LOL 😉