Let's Add Socially Awkward to the List!

Ugh.

So last night I went out with my husband to dual birthday party for a couple ladies we know. 

I so did not want to go. I don't feel fit for social gatherings. I'm the size of a house, I hate it, it shows, and I know I get judged for it. I'm shy to begin with, but now, with my size and my long break from anything like a 'normal' life, I don't have fuck all to talk to folks about. Awkward. I am painfully socially awkward.

What do I mean by normal life? I mean a job, employment. Regular social engagements. That sort of thing. I don't have any of that.

I don't work. I can't work. But other than being the size of a house, I don't look sick. I don't look disabled. Hell, even my like 65+ yr old teacher at UofT asked me the first chance she got me in private if I really couldn't work. We had to introduce ourselves in the first class. I mentioned I was disabled and couldn't work due to chronic illness. If she doesn't even believe me, then how can I expect perfectly healthy young people to?

I don't have anything in common with them. They all work, they all lead full lives. I lead the life of a recluse, a social outcast, a hermit. Even my own parents are shocked by the....isolation in my life.  I've gotten used to it. It's not so bad. I've always had hermit tendencies. Without...close friends or any reason (like work) to interact with others.. I don't really. I don't even know how I'd do it in my state.

I'm fat, useless, boring, old, awkward, and just plain miserable. I do not have anything to offer.

So I spent most of my night sitting in the corner of the couch, with a fake smile plastered to my face, saying very little. I was incapable of chitchat. I didn't want to be so fucking silent, but I couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

It's not like anything really interesting happens in my life. I just... I didn't know what to say. Half the time I knew some people just never liked talking to me anyway, so I didn't bother to make an effort. Other people I so very much wanted to say something, anything that would be interesting or engaging or something... But I just.. I blanked. When I did say something, It... I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut.

I was so fucking self conscious I wanted to burrow into the couch and just be invisible. I did not want to be seen.

I mean, if my own doctor, who bloody well knows what kind of chronic pain, exhaustion, and social anxiety I live with tells me I'm fat because I'm lazy.... How can I expect perfect strangers to understand?

I just. I hate meeting new people. What's the first thing some asks? So, what do you do? I don't. I can't work due to chronic illness. That sure puts a stop in the conversation! Then they feel guilty, awkward, forced to console me, and ask about it. Then they hurry away as fast as they can. I'm a fucking social leper.

I don't know anything about corporate life. I barely even remember what it was like to work with people. I'm a fucking housewife. With no children. Who does a really shitty job at you know, keeping the place clean. I'm a waste of space, and I know it.

"Are you sure you can't work?" "So you can't work at all?" "There are lots of temp jobs" "Couldn't you do freelance?" Yeah, with what freaking credentials!? I mean, besides my physical limitations, I was a secretary, an office manager, a jack of all trades, but I don't have credentials for any of it. And it was so long ago, I don't know if I could do a lot of it now anyway. I mean, my last full time job was FIVE years ago. Ugh.

I couldn't do 8 hour days. Not even 8 days a week. I'm that fucked up. But I don't look it. So people always ask. They don't realize, that that outing, the bit where I'm being social or am in school, that's my activity for the day, and in all likelihood it will take me 2-3 days to recover from it.

*sigh*

I just.... I want the ground to swallow me up. I want to sleep and never wake up. I want an easy way out of this mess. Perhaps my doctor is right, and I'm a fat useless fuck because I'm just too gods damn weak-willed and plain old lazy. Yup. That's about right.

Rippit, Rippit, Sigh, Rippit, Rippit, Sob

So I got about 1/3 of the way through the cowl neck tank, and tried it on. I had to get to that point just to be able to try it on -- 1/3 is 1 inch below the armpits where the back and front are reattached. It fit perfectly.

But

*sigh*

The cowl was very stiff, stood up all on it's own, and was way too low -- it went below my boobs! Like, the middle hung below my bra. Not good. Not good at all. I couldn't wear it like that! And I want to be able to wear the damn thing after putting all the work into it I have.

So. Rippit. Rippit. Rippit. I frogged all my hard work, and am now swatching with different needles.

The band on the ball of yarn suggested 4.5mm needles. And I do all my dish clothes at that needle size, to keep them tight. The last thing I wanted with the tank top was for it to be see through! I wouldn't be able to wear it then either. But, 4.5mm needles was just way too tight. So I'm trying 5mm, 5.5mm and 6mm needles to see which will give me a better gauge, softer material, and better drape.

I hate that I've had to start all over again, but really. I would have been just heartbroken to get all the way done and not have it fit right.

It's my Birthday!!!

I'm 32 years old today. 32. Where did all the years go? lol.

I honestly never thought I'd be where I am at 32 - happily married, and living in downtown Toronto. Go me!

I also, never thought I'd be chronically ill and unable to work. It's been 4.5 years since I had a full time job! I've worked retail part time since then (the only work I could get), and it was just way too hard on my body. I'm not sure if or when I'll be able to hold down a real job.

On the other hand, we're lucky enough that we can live comfortably on Chris' salary. Things could be a lot worse!

Today I went to buy some cotton yarn to make a tank top for myself. I got a bright green basic cotton. On sale $2.49/ball, and 20% off at Romni, under $30 with tax, and I have more than enough yarn! So excited to get started!

Sadness, and a Fridge full of food.

So we tried to have a housewarming/bday party for my husband today. It was a fantastic failure. We gave everyone two months notice. Invited just about everyone we knew in Toronto, many people that before today I would have called friends, but they aren't really, they're just acquaintances for the most part.

So can you guess how many showed up? Yup. That's right. Zero. At least a couple of them had understandable excuses. But when no one shows up.... Yeah, that's no coincidence. This is me, never throwing another party again.

On the bright side, at least 90% of the perishable food in our fridge is healthy! Lots of veggies, and fresh salsa, and cheese. Mmm, cheese.

The day wasn't wasted though. I vacuumed and washed the floors, and made raisin bread. All before 1pm! I even go to finish the dirty book I was reading.

I wish I could ease this sadness though. I also feel like such an ass. I made sure we had chairs for guests - though Chris was the one that carried them home from half way across the city, I made my poor husband go on a fourth trip to the grocery store today to get pop for guests that never showed. I nearly killed myself cutting veggies, making a double batch of cookies, burning myself on raisin bread, and for what? *Sigh* the Cookies and bread can be frozen. In honesty, I made the bread with the thought that at least I'd have something sure to look forward to today. I think though, this is why, once I got past 13, I never threw another party. I just couldn't take the thought that no one would show up. So when I did invite people over it was only people I knew wouldn't not show, like my family and best friends. But my best friends live in different cities now, I'm not even sure if they would show up if I invited them. I'll have to try, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

Still. It wasn't a bad day. I got to snuggle my husband, and something actually made me keep the floors clean. lol. *Sigh* Just not what I'd hoped for. Oh well. Maybe we'll try again when one of us turns 40; preferably me.

But what really pisses me off, is this was supposed to be a birthday party for my husband. And no one showed up. Not a single one of the people I thought were our friends! And now there is no one here to eat the damn cake. The cake that is fucking perfect, and no one but us to eat it! Bah! Bah I say! Well, at least my husband is a fairly solitary creature, I don't think he's half as put out as I am. And he still wants to eat the cake I made. I'm very glad of this. I had some bread, and somehow I'm very full, but make no mistake, we will be eating that cake, and by gods we will enjoy it because it is magnificent.

Update:
To those of you who made my husband morose - *shakes my fist at you*

Update.

The weather lately has been fantastic! Sunshine, not too cold, not too hot either. Rather lovely. Today, however, looks like the last lovely day in some time - the forecast calls for all kinds of rain for the foreseeable future. So I'm hoping to go out today and do as much as I can. I'm not sure how much I'll manage. Chronic illness means I never have enough energy for the ambition/goals I have.

This weekend we are having a birthday party for my husband/apartment warming. I have no idea who is actually going to show up. Most of our friends seem to have other plans this weekend and can't make it. Makes me sad, but oh well. As Chris said, we tried.

I'm not sure if it's my particular mental stint, or if it's reality. I'm just...wondering if...friend is the right term. Maybe acquaintance is more appropriate. I mean, when we asked for help painting, and then moving the only offers we got were from my father (!!) and Shasta who lives with more pain than I do. I was shocked that my father was willing to help, he's basically ignored me my whole life, and I was saddened that none of our acquaintances cared enough to even make excuses.

It makes me realise why I've heard so many women say that their husband is their best friend. Many women marry men they would be friends with under other circumstances, but as it is, what with being married and all, their husbands are always there, always willing to listen, to help. I've always been jealous of women who say that. So very jealous. If it wasn't for the sex, for the marriage bit, Chris and I would not be friends. I love him, but I can't talk to him about a lot of things - things I would talk to my friends about, that I used to talk to my friends about, when I had close friends. But life, time, space, have combined to mean I just don't have close friends anymore, and Chris is my best friend. Poor man. I know he would never willingly take that post. And it's not that anything's changed. I still can't talk to him about chick things, or matters of the heart, or most of the things that eat at me, because he either doesn't want to hear it, or doesn't know how to respond. He's also a very solitary creature, and I often get the "I've had people talking at me all day, let me have some peace" speech when I do try to talk to him. So yeah. I try very very hard not to talk to him about most things. Even attempting to share my day with him never goes well.

I'm not good at making friends. I'm... not good with people in that way. But I mean, I can't relate to most normal life experiences, and most people have no clue how I live my life. I don't work. I don't even do most normal housewife things. I don't have kids (thank the gods). I live in chronic pain. I have no energy for anything. I just can't do so many things healthy people do and take for granted. How do I relate to them? I can't. That's the truth of it. So part of me holds back, but part of me just doesn't know what to say. =/

Anyway, thinking about this isn't going to make it any better. I don't know how to fix it. And dwelling just makes me sad.

Sad... And Angry, And Full of Self-Hatred (RANT)

I've been sad/cranky/grumpy since last night, and I can't shake it. It sucks big time.

I need to make a test cake, and I have no desire to do anything but mope. I want to make a cake for my mom's birthday next week, and I really really need to test the recipe, as I've never made it. I want it to be good damnit. I want it to work out. It's for my mommy. I want her to like it. I've never tried this recipe, so I'll feel a lot better having tested it. The idea was to bring a cake to a party we are going to tomorrow night. But I'm just so fucking miserable I can't even get into the idea of making a cake! And I love to bake!

I'm just too miserable. I've gained weight. A lot of weight. Half my winter clothes don't fit. Today I realised NONE of my summer/spring clothes will fit. NONE. I'm soooo fucked.

Me, loose weight? That's asking for the impossible. Especially here. It was different when it was just me. When I had my own money, and all I had to worry about was making sure I ate 'right'. But I can't fucking do that here. I have to feed Chris, and he's not about to eat the kind of shit I'd need to eat. Fuck, I don't even want to eat it! I did that for two years! I don't think I can do that again.

I know I need to start portion control again, even if I don't eat right. It's so hard though. Especially when I eat with others. Especially him. Just the difference between eating with him and eating with my parents. I feel like they are trying to fucking starve me. But that's what I need to do. I have to eat smaller portions, much smaller, and for a good month or more I'm going to feel like I'm being starved. I'm going to be hungry ALL the time.

I know, because I've done it before. And it was such a horrible, scaring experience that I just don't know if I can put myself through it again. But what's the alternative? Get so fat I can't even walk? I mean, not walk at all, as opposed to now where it just hurts like fuck to walk.

*sigh*

I have to do something. I have to. I hate that I've gained more weight. I hate how I look. I hate that most of my clothes don't fit. I hate that all my clothes look horrible on me because they are all too tight. Ugh.

But I dread the process I went through to loose the weight I did. It was horrible, and vile, and no, I didn't fucking feel better for it. I didn't like the food I ate, and I almost never ate anything I truly enjoyed. It was total denial of everything I love about food. Nothing fatty, nothing sugary, no cake, no chocolate, no junk food, no pop, fuck, no juice, almost no bread, almost no pasta, almost never potatoes. No white bread, ever. No white pasta. No white rice! It's enough to make me want to cry now just thinking about it!

I don't want to live like that! I just don't. I can't. Not again. Not ever again.

I don't eat much junk food now, I can cut it out again. It will be hard on Saturdays, but I think I can do it. I don't drink pop, that's no biggie. I cannot remove chocolate from my life. I cannot, but I can try harder to play the denial game. I won't be happy, I'll cry, but I think I can. Though.. no. Fuck. I can't make myself that miserable. What's the fucking point of living if I'm just fucking miserable all the fucking time!? Grr.

I almost never bake these days, it was in an effort to not make us fatter. But then after that I gained thirty fucking pounds, so it didn't fucking help me any. But baking certainly won't help. As it is, I only do it for special occasions, so that's good. I just need to stop eating baked goods offered me. *sob*

White rice will be hard. I love basmati rice. It smells so fucking good. Even just opening the bag is a wonderful experience for me. That's going to be way hard. I fucking hate brown rice with a seething, writhing, passion. Something will have to be done there, cause I ain't fucking eating it. It's disgusting.

I'm used to whole wheat pasta now, so that's not so bad. And the pasta sauce I like isn't too fatty, so I should be able to eat that, as long as I add in some veggies and watch my portions..

I eat very little bread now, so I can't imagine that being a block.

Potatoes, or lack thereof, will make me cry though. It's not the potato that's bad, it's the butter I want to eat it with. So potato wedges with a bit of olive oil will be okay, and I like them... Perhaps I need to start using margarine again? I dunno though. A lot of that 'diet' crap is way worse for you than just having the real thing...

*sigh* I'll miss butter on my potatoes. I'll miss mashed potatoes. I can't not have them. I can't. It will have to be my cheat or something.

Maybe if I mix long grain rice with the brown rice, that might not be so bad. Bland as fuck, but not sooo bad.

*sigh* I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

Have I mentioned how much I hate this?! BAH.



And I haven't even said anything about the exercise I need. Because I don't have a fucking clue what to do on that side of things. I know how I have to eat, I just really, really don't want to do it. As far as getting active. I just. I don't know what the fuck will work for me.

Chris wants me to do some kind of group martial arts thing. I don't really understand why. I hate competition - hate it, hate it, hate it. It brings all kind of horribly anxiety with it. I hate group anything. I am horrified at the idea of being tested in front of a group of people. Yes, that's just what I fucking need, let me fall on my fucking face in front of strangers. Um. No. Ever since I was a baby, before I can even remember, the one thing I have never wanted to do is fuck up while people were watching. I hate failure. I hate it. But it's so much worse, so much more agonising to have people see me do it! When I was a baby I wouldn't even try to walk if I thought someone was watching me!! I didn't want to take the chance someone would see me fall.

I mention this to point out just how deep seated this fear is. How integral it is to my fucked up psyche. I am what I am. Some things I cannot change. This is one of them. Fucking up in front of people is one of my all time worse fears. Being put in a situation where it is inevitable.. is enough to make me have a panic attack. Forcing me into that kind of situation is an offence I cannot, and will not forgive.

I've heard Neda and Jessica talk about their Karate classes. About the 3 hours of testing in front of a room full of people. About being pushed so hard in class that their knuckles bled, or they could hardly walk because their muscles were so exhausted from being pushed beyond their limits. They thought it was great. I thought it just sounded horrible, vile, and terrifying. I do NOT want that. Fuck, I couldn't even DO that! I'd have a fucking asthma attack and die for not being able to breathe. Fuck no. No. No. No. No.

Something less extreme? Maybe. If I wasn't such a fat useless fuck, maybe. I do have a lot of unused violence that I'm sure it'd be therapeutic to get out. But while I'm like this? While I'm almost 300 pounds and unable to do one single, even highly modified push-up? No. Just no. I'm too fat and too out of shape for that sort of thing. No. No. No. No. I do not want the general public seeing how weak and useless I am. No fucking thank you.

So no. I don't fucking want to fall on my face in front of strangers. I'm a fat useless fuck, and I most certainly do not want to take martial arts classes with cute little things. No. No. No. No.

I tried Curves once. That's the closest I've ever come to group activity or a gym. But it wasn't enough. The 'circuit', the machines didn't work me nearly hard enough to make a difference. I found that walking 40 minutes, of my then way home from work, as hard as I could, was of more benefit than any amount of time spent at Curves.

Sadly, I don't think I could do that now. My feet are so royally fucked up I honestly don't know if I could walk fast for 2 minutes never mind 30 or 40. Not without crying or limping. So what the fuck do I do?!

I don't like gyms, generally. All the skinny, pretty, people... That's just so not me. I have considered the YMCA, simply because they have pools, and I really miss swimming. But, I don't work. Like, I said, I'm a useless fat fuck. I can't afford that. I can't afford anything. I can't even pay my own medical bills! I rely on Chris and my parents for everything. And I hate it. I really do. But, again, useless fat fuck. I don't know how to fix that.

I know if I really wanted to go to a gym of some kind, or something, Chris would try to pay for it, but I don't have a fucking clue what his/our financial situation is really like, so I don't know if we really can afford it. So I feel very uncomfortable asking. He won't actually tell me anything; it's his money, why should he? But I can't ask. I can't. Not when I don't know if it will put him out.



Okay, this really fucking bothers me. Why does he want me to take some martial arts class?!?! Why? Fucking WHY?! He won't tell me. He won't give me a straight fucking answer. And I want to know why damnit. I feel I have a right to know. This directly concerns me, and I fucking want to know why. He's mentioned it many times. And every fucking time it feels like he's just making a slight against me. I don't like it. I know I'm a weakling. I know I'm fucking useless, but I don't fucking like talking about it. I certainly don't fucking like the implication that I need to take fucking martial arts classes! WTF. The ONLY person I have EVER had to fight off me is HIM!! Fucking strangers don't fucking want anything to do with me, what does it fucking matter if I can't wrestle for shit?? I don't like wrestling! Hello! Competition! I fucking hate competition! Why the fuck does he think I get so fucking grumpy after he makes me!? What the fucking hell. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

It's My Birthday

So I talked to Neda last night, and feel loads better. Sabrina and I don't always communicate the best, we mean well, but sometimes things don't always come out how we mean them, on both sides.

I was sooo worried my friends were upset with me, but no one is, including Sabrina it seems! So Yay! Angie apparently could talk of nothing else yesterday! Neda's the best. she's aces when it comes to easing worries!

Today has been great. I got woken up by my wonderful boyfriend singing 'happy birthday'. and tonight he brought me home live flowers! They. I think, are Hyacinths, possibly. Pretty in anycase!

Both Sabrina and my mom called to say happy birthday to me, that was really very nice. Brightened up my day. I love my mom... She really is just so good to me. She let me babble at her and everything! lol.

Most things have just gone swimingly today too, which is great. Now I just have to go finish icing my cake for the dinner party tonight. Don't worry, it's at a restaurant -- I'm not about to do that much work on my birthday!

Damnit!!! (warning potentially incoherent rant ahead)

Why does she always do this to me?!? What's her fucking issue?! Seriously. Gods fucking damnit.

All she had to do was say 'no'. That flipping simple. I was expecting a 'no' from her of all people anyway, all she had to do was say, 'no, sorry, I can't make it'. But nooooooooooooo! She has to go on a rant and make me feel guilty and miserable and give me a fucking ulcer worrying I've forced my friends into something they don't want to do! Mean! Seriously.

I didn't want to ask anyone in the first place because I knew it was a lot to ask, and they NEVER do anything for me, so why should I bleeding well expect them to do this, and on such short notice even.

Now my stomach is in knots and I just want to call the whole thing off..... I feel so gods damn fucking guilty. And angry. Really fucking angry that she just had to give me a guilt trip and make me feel like ALL my friends are pissed off at me! She couldn't just contain her guilt rant to her own issues, oh no, she had to fucking drag everyone else into it. Grr.

None of them had to say 'yes'. They all could have made their excuses. Chris and I could have gone on our own - no big deal. I really would have rather had them do that than being racked with guilt like this!

Now I can't even enjoy baking my cake because all I can think about is that my friends are all pissed off with me. Why the hell did she feel the need to make me feel bad like this!? Does she get fucking joy out of making me miserable?! What the fuck!

*grumble*pout*grumble*

She just likes to twist things to make herself feel better! Whatever, that's fine. But spreading her mis-information, sewing discord, and making the rest of my friends angry with me is just seriously low. Low, mean, cruel, and so totally NOT cool! Grrr!

On a happier note, my cakes are cooked and they smell so flipping amazingly coconut-ily delicious! :D Yay! At least baking and I are still friends!