That's how I fucking feel. I'm so tired of being treated like I'm just making shit up. Why you ask? I complain for years about pain and being fatigued, and never ever having any energy. I tell my doctor, just this past Friday, that I can do 30 minutes of light to medium housework and then my lower back is hurting so bad that I have to take pain pills and I'm out for hours. Then, because my neuropathy and pinched nerves from bone spurs make my legs and feet hurt so bad, and my legs and feet start to swell, that I have to keep my legs propped up just to be able to stand it. But apparently I'm making that shit up too. Because according to her I am completely able to hold down a 40 hour a week job with no restrictions or concerns whatsoever. Answer me... who the fuck is going to hire me when I tell them that I can't stay on my feet for longer than 30 or 40 minutes before having to rest with my legs propped up? Who is going to hire me when I tell them that I have to take numerous bathroom breaks a day, sometimes every 15 minutes or half hour, because my IBS-D has kicked in and I'm constantly having to shit? Who is going to hire me when I tell them that I have brittle diabetes and that from time to time my sugar will bottom out or skyrocket and I have to check my blood and either eat or take insulin sometimes half a dozen times a day? Who is going to hire me when I tell them that I can't be around anyone who wears perfume or smokes, or chemicals, or extreme temperatures, because my lungs might start freaking out from the COPD and I then have trouble getting air and have to take multiple breathing treatments from my nebulizer? Who is going to hire me when I tell them that sometimes I get panic attacks or just start crying for no reason at all? But yeah..... sure. No problem. There are employers out there just itching to snap me up.
All of my life I've been treated by doctors who just wanted to blame me for everything because I'm fat. I had no control over being fat. I was fat from the time I was in preschool. I'm pretty sure that I was either over, or damn near pushing, 100 lbs at 8 years old. I was the ONLY fat one in the family, and until my parents hit their 50's and got that normal 'middle age spread' that has held true. (Even now they're not really that big.... my Dad weighs around 200 and my Mom weighs around 180, and I don't ever remember my brother being big.) We have pictures of me where I was this cute, skinny kid and then pictures of me when I was just a bloated pig. No in-between. No transitioning photos. It was just like one minute it's there, when the minute before it was not. I was like 5.... I don't remember it happening. Now that I'm an adult, I've tried to lose weight. I've dieted; I've worked out; I've done my best to eat healthy. I have no metabolism! I have no energy!
I was a military brat, so we went to the military doctors. They didn't want to mess with me and so the answer to everything was 'it's because she is fat'. I swear to you I went one time for a crushed finger that got caught in the door and the doctor blamed it partially on my weight. When I got older and became an adult I had to get my own doctors and I went through three or four who didn't want to mess with me. Again, everything was because I was fat. Lose weight they said. I tried. I tried and tried and tried. Nothing happened. For 20 years I was bleeding like someone had ripped my innards apart and passing blood clots the size of my fists. I was bleeding almost every day. And I mean EVERY day.... practically 325+ days a year. Those giant pads they give pregnant women? Yeah, I used those for 20 years and bled so heavy that I would sometimes go through four of those in an hour. Some days I couldn't even leave the house because I would be bleeding so much that no pad could keep me from bleeding through my clothes. The doctors response? Oh... some women just do that. They didn't want to test me for anything. They didn't want to do any exams. They didn't want to TOUCH me and on some occasions acted like they hated to even look at me. They treated me like I was a walking case of blubber with leprosy and sent me on my way. And eventually, oh guess what? You've got endometrial cancer. Whoopsie! We shoulda caught that huh?
So yeah I have a hard time trusting doctors. Lose weight, they keep telling me to this day. I'm tired of hearing it. They act as if I haven't tried; like I enjoy being in this body and not being able to do things that normal people can do. It's truly a JOY to have to be nervous about breaking furniture or going out places and wondering if I can use their bathrooms or if I will be able to fit in their seats. It's DELIGHTFUL to be stared at, pointed at, laughed at, made fun of, yelled at, be sneered at, to be discriminated against, and to not even be considered as a human being every time you step out of the house. I YEARN to feel like a failure and a disappointment, like an outcast, like a loser, like my life has meant nothing. Every day of my life I DREAMED about not being able to have children, to never be married, to not have someone in my life to share experiences with and to always feel alone. I've always been ECSTATIC that I can't do the things I'd love to do like travel, and go to theme parks and ride the rides, or simply sleep in a bed. It's been a goddamned PLEASURE I tell you!! I'm living it up EVERY DAMN DAY!
I told my therapist last week that I'm just tired. I truly am. I've been saying it for years now and it's more true now than it's ever been. I told her that I've always been scared about being put on heavy anxiety or anti-depressants because I know people who have been on them and they become zombies. I've always said that my mind was the only good thing that I had and for that reason I didn't want any of those types of drugs in my body. Well, I've lied in that too it seems. Because I would welcome it right now. I would much rather be a zombie whose mind is completely clouded and dumbed down. I wish she had the ability to load me up like a freight train with heavy mind-fucking drugs. Hell, if I could afford it I would find them myself. Dreams and hopes apparently just aren't meant to be in my wheelhouse, and once again life has shown me that expecting something different just ends up disappointing me more. Einstein said that doing the same things and expecting different results was the definition of insanity. I keep hoping and trying to stay positive that things will change but the results are never different. It always comes back to me that apparently I'm a liar. If the doctor says that I am perfectly fine and that all of these conditions obviously don't make any impact on my body or my life then that must be true. After all; she's the one with the medical license. So it must be the way it is. And that means I'm faking it. I'm a liar; a useless habitual liar. I guess everything is really fine after all. I'm tired of trying to get anyone to understand otherwise.
In the words of one of the best authors of all time, “How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep.”
You win, shitty life. You win.